Chapter 38: If the Sun Never Sets: Chapter 38

Farrah thought she’d gotten rid of Blake.

She didn’t hear from him for a week—unless you counted the endless stream of pleading texts, phone calls, and voicemails, which she ignored, though she couldn’t bring herself to block him—yet.

Then he started showing up in person. Every damn day. Begging her to give him just five minutes. Ensuring she couldn’t forget about him no matter how hard she tried.

Farrah’s mouth pressed into a thin line when she saw Blake sitting on the stoop in front of her building, the same way he’d been doing for the past three weeks, even as she tried to ignore the sharp ache she felt at the sight of him.

She’d thought one of her neighbors would’ve called the cops by now, but he’d somehow managed to win them all over, even the grouchy old lady on the second floor.

Farrah didn’t know what kind of sorcery he was practicing, but she wanted no part of it, no matter what her traitorous, fluttering heart said.

The closer she got to him, the more her chest hurt.

Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

Blake scrambled to his feet when he saw her. “Give me a chance to explain?”

Farrah fished her keys out of her bag, determined to ignore him, but the question slipped out before she could prevent it. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Blake waited in front of her building every evening like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home. She assumed he came here straight from work. She didn’t know how long he stayed, but Olivia came home once at eight and said she saw him outside, looking miserable. Farrah had lasted two minutes before she’d excused herself from the conversation and locked herself in her room, where she’d alternated between trying not to cry, cursing Blake out in her mind, and resisting the urge to run outside and fling herself into his arms.

“I do. Here.” Blake flashed a small, devastating smile before his face turned serious again. “Farrah, please. I just need a few minutes.”

“I thought I made myself clear the other day.” Farrah’s hands curled around her keys until the metal dug painful grooves into her palm. Her ears buzzed, and her heart slammed against her ribcage in a frantic, unyielding rhythm. “I’m not interested. You had your chance. You had two chances. Both times you pushed me away. So congratulations. You got your wish. I’m staying away. Now you need to do the same.”

She tried to look Blake in the eyes to drive home her point but ended up staring at his forehead instead.

Blake’s jaw tightened. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

A frustrated groan tore from her throat. Why was he making this so hard? “Stop. We both know this isn’t going to last.” She gestured between them. “One day, you won’t be here. You’ll leave. That’s what you’ve always done when the going gets tough.”

“Not this time.” Blake’s eyes burned into hers with an intensity that sent trembles up her spine. “I love you, and you love me. I’m not giving up on that.”

“You already did.” Farrah sucked in a deep, shaky breath and turned her head, afraid the mess of emotion in her throat would be reflected on her face. She needed to leave before she broke down. “You’ve always been good with words, but actions matter more, and yours told me all I needed to know.”

She fled inside her building before Blake could rope her back in. A tear escaped, then two, then more than she knew what to do with.

Damn him, she thought bitterly.

Blake was right. She did love him, even after all he put her through, and he knew what he was doing by showing up here every day.

But he was going to stop. She was sure of it.

Except…he didn’t.

Mid-December rolled around. The leaves had fallen off the trees, and holiday fever had swept the city, but Blake remained stubbornly, infallibly present, to the point where even Olivia felt bad for him.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Olivia said tentatively one evening, while Farrah was packing for her trip home for the holidays. Her flight was four days away, but after living with Olivia for so long, some of her roommate’s tendencies—including packing early—had become her own. “It’s been almost two months. I know you’re hurt and angry, and you have every right to be, but he’s trying. No guy waits that long—”

“Liv, don’t.” Farrah shoved a dress into the corner of her suitcase. She’d done a decent job of pushing Blake out of her mind—other than her heart splintering every time she saw him outside her building, of course. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She’d managed to avoid discussion of Blake so far, even when Olivia complained about the teddy bear blocking half the TV in the living room. Farrah said she couldn’t throw the bear out because it was gigantic, and there was no good way to dispose of it, but they both knew that wasn’t true. Olivia, thankfully, hadn’t called her out on her obvious lie.

It helped that there had been plenty of distractions this fall: namely, the Kelly-Matt scandal, which blew up right before Thanksgiving and sent shock waves through Manhattan. Kelly’s best friend and Matt’s mom, a wealthy, well-connected socialite who split her time between Chicago and New York, had flown in to surprise her son. She ended up being the one surprised—when she caught him in bed with Kelly.

The socialite killed Kelly’s reputation among Manhattan high society. The gossip sites covered the sordid affair for weeks—Design icon caught in bed with employee (and godson)! Wealthy heir ensnared by cougar!—and, in an attempt to save his own ass, Matt declared Kelly forced him into the relationship. He also spilled all her dirty secrets, including the tactics she used to get back at those she felt had wronged her. Among them: sending a PSA to all the design studio heads in New York, telling them not to hire Farrah because she was insubordinate and difficult to work with. Kelly claimed she’d been about to fire Farrah anyway before Farrah quit in a childish tantrum over not receiving a promotion.

Matt’s accusations fell apart after a gossip columnist dug up the history of filthy, very much un-coerced texts he’d sent Kelly over the past year. He fled to Chicago with his tail between his legs; Kelly took an extended leave of absence from KBI and was reportedly hiding out upstate.

Meanwhile, Farrah had been inundated with messages from her former coworkers and interview offers from companies who’d been radio silent until news of Kelly’s deception broke. She was glad she finally knew for sure what happened, and that her reputation in the industry was no longer in tatters, but she couldn’t help feeling bad for her ex-colleagues. A lot of them had to look for jobs elsewhere, given KBI’s new client stream had slowed to a trickle.

Farrah herself hadn’t replied to her interview offers yet. If this were a few months ago, she would’ve jumped on them in a heartbeat, but now, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to work for someone else. She enjoyed being her own boss, and she was even getting the hang of the business side of things. Sort of.

“I’m just saying.” Olivia’s voice brought Farrah back to the present. “It’s snowing like crazy out there. Blake’s probably freezing.”

Farrah’s heart seized at the mental image of Blake standing outside, shivering in the storm. “He’s not out there.”

“It’s seven. He usually doesn’t leave until eight or nine.”

“You said it yourself. It’s snowing like crazy. No sane person would be outside right now.”

“No sane person would wait outside their ex’s building for two months straight, either,” Olivia retorted.

Farrah resumed packing, but her heart wasn’t in it. “When did you turn into a Blake apologist?”

“Since I saw how miserable you are. You can ignore him all you want, but if you really wanted to get rid of him, you’d have called the cops on his ass a long time ago.”

“He’s not breaking any laws,” Farrah murmured.

“I’m sure you could make a case for harassment or something. At the very least, you could’ve tried. But you didn’t.” Olivia’s tone softened. “Babe, you can’t keep going on like this.”

“I won’t. I’m leaving for L.A. in a few days, and I’ll be gone for a month. Once I come back, Blake won’t be here.” Farrah folded a denim jacket and stuffed it next to her dress.

“If you say so.” Olivia pursed her lips. “I’m going to take a shower before this storm knocks out the electricity or something.”

“It’s not snowing that bad!” Farrah yelled after her, right as a fierce howl ripped through the air outside.

There was no way Blake was out there. Right?

Don’t do it, Farrah Lin. Don’t you dare.

With a groan, Farrah threw on a coat and shoes, grabbed her keys, and stomped outside. She was furious with Blake for being so persistent, with Olivia for putting the suggestion he might be outside in her head, and with herself for caring.

She opened the door to the building and flinched when a blast of icy air almost knocked her over. The ground was blanketed in thick, powdery snow, and the cold soaked through her layers of clothing until it clawed at her skin.

Farrah didn’t notice. She was too busy staring at the figure shivering in the corner. He stood beneath an awning, but it was too small to prevent the snow from collecting on his hair and coat. There was an alarming blue tinge to his skin.

Her breath rushed out in a gust of shock and anger. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Blake’s eyes lit up. “You came outside.” Then he frowned at the sight of her thin coat—she hadn’t put on her parka for such a quick trip—and slip-ons. “You must be freezing.”

Farrah wanted to cry. “I’m freezing?” She grabbed his arm and yanked him inside, trying to ignore the shower of sparks that erupted in her belly. The door closed behind them, shutting out most of the cold, but Blake continued shivering. No wonder—he was soaked from the melted snow. A messy ball of emotion clogged her throat. “What are you doing outside in this storm? Are you crazy?”

Blake lifted his shoulder with a slight furrow in his brow. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. Not until you give me a chance to explain.”

Farrah wanted to scream. “You could’ve gotten hypothermia!”

“Worth it.” His lips curved into a small smile. “At least you’re speaking to me.”

He was certifiably insane.

They could’ve argued all night, but pale blue still tinted Blake’s skin, and if he didn’t warm up soon, he really was going to catch hypothermia.

“You need to get out of those clothes, or you’ll get sick,” Farrah said. “And don’t you dare make a sexual innuendo right now,” she added when Blake opened his mouth to speak.

“Okay.” The mischievous glint in Blake’s eyes told her he may not be saying it, but he was thinking it.

Farrah’s lips inched up before she caught herself. “Don’t take this as anything more than basic human decency, but you can shower and change at my place.”

Blake followed her silently into her apartment, where a freshly showered Olivia was reading one of her erotica books on the couch. Other than an arch of her eyebrow, she didn’t look surprised to see a soaking wet Blake enter her living room. “Blake.”

“Liv.” Blake returned her greeting.

“I’m going to be in my room. All night,” Olivia announced. She closed her book, stood, and left, but not before shooting Farrah an I-told-you-so look, which Farrah ignored.

While Blake took a shower, Farrah tossed his clothes into the laundry and fixed a cup of hot tea, all the while trying to sort through her tangled web of thoughts. How long had Blake been standing out there? It’d been snowing for hours. He was bundled up, but dammit, why hadn’t he had the common sense to leave after the snowstorm intensified? Lord knows how long he would’ve stayed had she not gone outside.

A burning sensation spread behind Farrah’s eyes. Her heart ached so much her hand trembled and she almost spilled the tea all over herself.

The sound of the shower turned off, and Blake stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of men’s sweatpants and a purple Thayer University T-shirt. The blue tinge had subsided from his skin, thank God but a dark scowl marred his chiseled face.

“Drink this,” Farrah instructed, shoving the tea into his hand. “It’ll warm you up.”

“Thanks.” Blake took the mug but didn’t drink. Instead, his eyes bored into hers, as if searching for the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet. “Who do these clothes belong to?”

“Excuse me?”

“These clothes.” A muscle ticked in Blake’s jaw. “Don’t tell me you just have men’s clothing lying around.”

She shrugged. “Maybe they’re an old boyfriend’s. Or a current fling’s. I don’t remember.”

A growl emanated from his chest. “You don’t have a current fling. I would’ve seen him—and killed him.”

“I could’ve snuck him in the back.” Farrah’s smile was sweeter than pie. Never mind the fact that the back of the building was sketchy as hell and she would never use that entrance; she relished Blake’s glower even as guilt nibbled at her stomach for making him suffer after he nearly froze to death.

The guilt won out, and she sighed. “The clothes belong to my cousin, okay? He visits sometimes and always leaves some of his shit behind. Not that you have any right to be jealous,” she added, jabbing a finger at his chest. It was like poking a brick wall. “Plus, you didn’t answer me earlier. What the hell were you doing out there?”

“Waiting for you.” A glimmer of satisfaction replaced the jealousy stamped on Blake’s face. “It worked. You came.”

Farrah couldn’t believe it. She was in love with a fucking idiot. “You have zero sense of self-preservation,” she fumed. “You could’ve died!”

The burning sensation behind her eyes returned.

“I’m still alive. But it’s nice to know you care,” Blake teased.

A tear slipped out, and she wiped it away angrily. “Of course I care,” she snapped. “I don’t want anyone dying because of me.”

Blake’s expression morphed into one of alarm as more tears tracked down her face. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m here. I’m fine.” He drew her into his chest, and she let him, burying her face in his shoulder while he stroked her hair with soothing motions. “Shh. It’s okay.”

Sobs rolled through Farrah’s body. It was beyond embarrassing, considering she was still supposed to be angry with him, but seeing him outside, shivering and soaked to the bone, had cracked the ice around her heart. She’d imagined, just for a second, what it would be like to live in a world without Blake, and the thought was so devastating she couldn’t breathe.

For all his faults and misdeeds, Blake had always been her light, her rock, her center of gravity. Without him, the earth would surely fall off its axis and plummet into oblivion.

Another sob ripped through her before Farrah mustered the strength to shove him away and glare at him. “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” She hiccupped. “I don’t know what you were trying to prove, but it was beyond stupid.”

“Okay.” Blake raised his hands in acquiescence. “I won’t. But I don’t regret doing it.”

He was impossible. “Blake—”

“No,” he said firmly. “Listen to me. You said actions matter more than words, and you were right. I screwed up by pushing you away in the past, by not trusting you when you trusted me, but that’s not me anymore. I’m done running.” He swallowed hard. “I know forgiveness might be too much to ask, but is there even the smallest chance you’d let me let you in? To show you I’ve changed, and that I’ll be here, no matter how hard the snow falls or how much shit goes sideways?”

The ache in Farrah’s chest grew. “I want to,” she whispered. “I really do. But every time I look at you, I remember that night in Shanghai and that night in your apartment. You shut me out and didn’t even give me a chance to be there for you. Twice. I can’t just forget. Not yet.”

The most painful part of loving someone was knowing you couldn’t live without them, but not being able to live with them, either.

Blake’s throat convulsed. He hung his head and nodded. “I understand. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

He looked so sad Farrah almost caved and threw herself into his arms again, but she forced herself to stand her ground—no matter how much doing so killed her inside.