“Josh. Hey!” I wave, but the traffic noise covers my shout. He doesn’t see me, but the woman standing next to me gives me a sharp look. The crosswalk light still hasn’t changed.
I bounce up and down in my snow boots and try to get a better view of Josh. I can’t believe he came. When he didn’t call back or text I thought for sure that his call from last night was a butt dial or a fluke.
I was ninety-nine percent prepared to march into my appointment today and tell Dr. Ingraham I’d be using an anonymous donor. But Josh is here.
The flood of relief and happiness that flows through me makes me realize just how much I wanted a familiar face to help in this.
I watch as Josh takes a breath and lets out a long sigh, then he shakes his head like he’s arguing with himself. He pushes off the wall and starts to walk away, shoulders hunched.
Is he leaving?
“Josh!” I shout.
The woman next to me glares.
Josh stops, turns back around, and leans against the wall again.
Thank goodness.
Finally, the traffic stops and the crosswalk signal changes. I slosh through the winter slush and hurry toward Josh.
When I’m a few feet away I see him take a deep, steadying breath and then run his hand over his face.
I stop next to him and shift on my feet, suddenly, I feel incredibly awkward. I bite my lip and clear my throat to let him know I’m here.
Josh looks over at me in surprise, and I watch as the worry line between his brows vanishes and he gives me his devil-may-care/life’s-a-playground smile.
“Hey. You came. I didn’t think you would. I…” My throat feels thick with tears and I realize how scared I really was to go down this path, but Josh being here, giving me his isn’t-this-amusing smile makes everything okay. On impulse, I rush him and throw my arms around his neck.
He lets out a surprised grunt and stumbles a bit, then stands awkwardly as I squeeze my arms around him. He’s as stiff as a statue.
“Hug me back, you ding dong,” I say, and I press my face into the warmth of his coat.
He lets out a rumbly chuckle that vibrates in his chest. Then he shakes his head and wraps his arms around me. “You’re a strange one, Gemma Jacobs.”
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I squeeze him harder and bounce up and down, keeping my arms wrapped around him. Finally, I pull away and take a good look at him.
His nose is pink from the cold, he must’ve been standing outside waiting for me for a while. His hair is ruffled from the wind, he has a day or two worth of stubble, and he looks more tired than usual. Even though he’s giving me his usual smile, there’s a hint of something else in his eyes. Maybe doubt, or worry, or…I don’t know, the emotion is like a snowflake that has landed on warm skin, there for a moment, and then gone.
A thought occurs to me. “Are you, um, did you come to be a donor? You did, didn’t you? I mean, I just assumed, with that whole hug thing. But maybe you aren’t actually—”
“Gemma. Relax.” He shakes his head and looks at me with amusement.
“So, it’s a yes?”
He gives me a rueful smile.
“But…why? Why’d you change your mind?”
At first I think he’s going to tell me something profound, something serious, but then he says, “You know, I figured, you should always say yes to the opportunities the universe presents you.”
I sigh. He gave me an Ian quote. “I really wish you wouldn’t quote my boss. It’s weird.”
“What?”
I hold up my hands, “It’s one of Ian’s most famous quotes.”
Josh scowls.
“Never mind,” I say. “I just wondered why you changed your mind.”
Ugh. I could almost kick myself. What next? Am I going to try to dissuade him from helping?
Josh gestures for me to walk closer to the building, I do and we both lean against the cold stone, our shoulders touching. “Why did you really ask me? Tell me that and I’ll tell you why I changed my mind.”
I wrinkle my brow.
“Come on, Gemma. Sure, I’m smart. I’m healthy. I’m good looking.” He wags his eyebrows at me and I sniff at him. “But be honest, why’d you actually ask me? It’s not like we’re close. Usually people ask friends. We’re not friends.” He gives me a sardonic look and I assume he’s quoting my voicemail from last night.
There’s a tightness in my chest, something I don’t want to look at too closely. I brush the feeling aside and turn my head to look at Josh. The winter wisps of our breath fills the cold air between us.