Chad had gone into hibernation in the weeks since their parents' wedding, or re-wedding as he liked to refer to it. He was desperate to finish the book. So close to finishing it, that he even forced Jo to leave him alone. He didn't need her constant yammering at his desk as she typed. Asking a million and one questions, like: did this really happen, Chad? Oh, I didn't know my brother had a heart. Since when? Why are you so mushy? Were you always so mushy? Or his favourite: how are you even a romance writer, mate? You suck at relationships. Always have.

It was when he'd thrown his pen and notepad to the floor and frog-marched her out the door. "I don't need this right now, woman! Go annoy Tom or something."

"Tom's at work!" She'd protested, holding onto the door frame like a drowning man might hold on to a tree trunk floating past.

"I can't write with you and your million questions."

"I won't ask any then." She had grinned at him, "And I still have another chapter or two to type," she'd said as she pulled at the door frame with him still attempting to dispel her from his house. "I want to know what happens next!"

"You know what happens next, Jo. She leaves!" He had then pried her fingers off of his threshold. "Go home and leave me alone for a week so I can finish this thing. Then you can come back and find out what happened."

"Fine." She'd let go of the door without warning and the force of Chad still pushing her had sent her flying off backwards. He had to scramble to grab her hand before she landed on her bottom. She'd brushed him off. "Make it a happy ending."

"Why?"

She'd shrugged. "It's your signature. Love stories and happy endings. Your book 'Chad' deserves it."

"It's a placeholder until I find a better name for myself," he'd mumbled in embarrassment.

"Good, 'cause your name's kind of dorky." She had smiled as she'd said it. "Now get me my handbag if you want me to leave. My license's in there."

Chad had marched back into the study and fetched her bag. "What if I never get my happy ending?"

Jo had chewed her lip, looking a little guilty. Ever since the kidnapping, Tom was back in her life and things were going well. Great, even. Chad could tell she was head over heels in love and for the first time in her life, maybe even wishing to walk down the aisle in a manner of speaking.

"Go write her an ending she can't resist." Jo had lingered on in the hopes he would let her back in, jingling her car keys. Chad had refused to budge. "Call me when you're done." Then she'd left.

He had watched her back the car out of the driveway and he had the house all to himself. Quiet and lonely, the way it had been before he'd met June. The quiet irked him, giving him the urge to run out the door, and go anywhere to avoid his loneliness. But running away would not write the story for him. So he had turned on the TV for white noise and headed straight to the study. He would not come out until he had finished the damn ending June couldn't 'resist'.

Piles of paper, sheaves of notepads, pens upon pens drained of ink, mountains of fizzy drinks and too many Gin&Tonic, over multiple days later, Chad thought he had it, the perfect ending to an imperfect story that was his life.

'A darn good ending', as Terry would call it.

An ending he wished was the actual beginning to something special in his life. An ending he hoped June would be curious enough to read. Never in his life had he written thousands of words for one reader. It was an odd feeling, like a man about to say 'I love you' for the first time in his life and he had no clue if the other person felt the same. An infinitesimal part of him hoped she felt the same. But an enormous part of him doubted it.

He looked around the room. At the littered ground, where a tsunami of scrunched up paper and discarded bodies of soda lay.

He looked down at himself next, wearing a faded t-shirt he should have thrown out years ago and his boxer shorts. He couldn't remember the last time he'd showered, or shaved, or even changed clothes. He grabbed the front of his t-shirt and gave it a sniff, reeling back from the smell.

He eyed the mess about the room. In his other hand, he still held the bundle of papers that were the last two chapters of his newest book, 'for June', or rather 'for Fay'. A semi-closure if he could ever get one most likely.

"You need a shower!" He heard a voice from the doorway and turned, half-hoping, half-dreading that it was yet another hallucination thrown up by his sleep-deprived, sugar-high, caffeinated to the last drop of blood, self.

She eyed the mess with a disapproving shake of her head. "You need help, Chad."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know." He blinked his eyes, surprised she hadn't vanished.

"It's filthy." She glanced at his t-shirt.

He nodded again and scrambled to his desk, placed the finished chapters in the journal, and went about picking up the rubbish off the floor, too scared to check the figure standing by the door.

"I'll clean it up. You'll see. It'll take a moment." He piled more paper in the makeshift hammock of his t-shirt, nervously glancing back at the door despite himself. "I'm so glad you're back, June." But the doorway was empty once again. He scoffed, aware that he'd made a fool of himself to no one. She'd been another figment of his imagination again, for the umpteenth time.

It was the ringing doorbell that sent him jumping about and the piles of paper and numerous cans he held in his t-shirt falling back to the floor like odd confetti he threw up. He whipped around and eyed the clock on the wall. It was almost five o'clock in the afternoon. What day? He wasn't sure.

The bell rang again.

"Who is that?" He inched to the front door, avoiding some old creaky floorboard in case it was some salesperson. He didn't want to give it away that someone was home. Then he peeked through the recently installed eye-hole and jumped back in fright. "What is she doing here?" he grumbled, looking through the peephole again.

Yup. It was her. He was not dreaming this time. It was June, standing outside his door looking impatient, the way she kept glancing at the window or the balcony above her head.

She pressed the bell again. "Chad. Open the door. I can hear you behind the door. I know you're there. Open it or I walk away right now and you'll never see me again."

A flutter of butterflies kicked his belly in an uproar. He was filthy, sleep-deprived, and jumped up on too much caffeine. What he needed was a shower, food, and sleep before she should see him. His house was a bigger mess yet, and to be honest, he didn't want her to see either of them in their states of falling apart. But he didn't want her to leave either. He rushed back to close the study door and hide the mess. He then rushed into the laundry to salvage older clothes that didn't smell as bad as the ones he was wearing.

Once changed into something a little fresher, he ran to the kitchen, found his mouth freshener in the bottom drawer, and gave a few enthusiastic sprays into his mouth–not that he was expecting to kiss her anytime soon. He pushed the tower of empty pizza boxes still sitting on the benchtop to the floor of the kitchen as he rushed back to the front door.

By the time he was opening the door, true to her words, she was walking away.

"June?" he called, his voice hoarse and dry. It was the first time he was speaking in days other than mumbling to himself.

She turned and scanned him from head to toe. Then without a word, walked past him, stopped to wrinkle her nose at his stench briefly, and entered the house.

She stood there, dressed in a gorgeous yellow cocktail dress that complimented her light tan. Her hair was in elegantly styled into waves and swept to one side. She even had bright, dewy makeup on her face. In her hand, she held a nude clutch, and her heels clicked on the wooden floor. Chad had never seen her in heels. In fact, he had never seen her looking as beautiful and done up before. It wasn't like her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, despite himself.

"The wedding," she replied with disinterest as she scanned the house. Very little had changed in the month and a half since she'd left. "And I hope to God, you're not going like that. Even Bax would be embarrassed for you."

"What wedding?" he asked, still not catching on.

"Your ex?... You forgot, didn't you?" She laughed as she turned back to him. Her expression was neither surprise nor shock. "Why did I bother to turn up here like this?" She shook her head in that regretful manner, eyeing the front door, and Chad who stood between her and it.

"Is that today?" Embarrassed that he was a walking garbage bin with a memory of a goldfish, Chad rushed to the fridge and eyed the calendar. He had marked 'Shit's wedding' with a bright red pen on it.

"You truly let yourself go." June let out a whistle upon seeing the cascade of pizza boxes on the kitchen floor.

"Yeah... I was busy, and I haven't cleaned up. I was starting to when you rang the bell," he finished, eyeing her, unable to help himself. "You look stunning."

When she didn't engage him in that conversation, he moved past her towards the stairs. "So you came to?" He couldn't find the words to ask her why she was here.

"You mean, why am I here? Looking like this?" she volunteered.

He nodded. Exactly.

"I made a promise, Chad. Despite everything, you did save my life, so it's time for me to return the favour."

The look of confusion remained on his face. What favour? She'd already done him plenty of favours, namely saving him from looking like a loser in front of his judgmental father who'd popped back in their lives after going AWOL for years.

"I'm here to go to this stupid thing and pretend to be your..." She bit her tongue, hesitating, "... girlfriend, for one night. But I have terms. No kissing. Don't touch me, don't hug me, don't even look at me until we get there. Then, all you get is one kiss from me, on your cheek where Setal can see it, and you may hold my hand when we approach them to say congratulations. After that, no touching. Then at the end of the night, I go my way, you go yours. Understood?"

Chad nodded. Understood. Perfectly understood. He was being punished, and it was a good punishment at that. Well deserved.

"Well? Are you going to go get ready, or do I have to wait for Cinderella all night?"

"Right," he mumbled, still stunned from the terms. "Go get ready. Got it. Be right back." He rushed upstairs, heart skittering, no thanks to sugar and caffeine overload. He pinched himself and flinched at the pain. It was real, and if the pain was real. She was real and waiting for him downstairs, looking like a heartbreaker. Real and unhappy.

This would be an interesting night. Painful, but interesting, and he would get to spend time with her, ever under her terms. It was better than nothing, and he'd take anything over nothing.

He dashed into the shower with a smile, daring to scheme up ways to win her back, or at least, her trust.

♡

Chad remembered something before they left the house, and rushed back upstairs, profusely apologizing that he would not take long. June heard him running down the upstairs corridor into what had once been her room. Then run back down again, with something in his hand.

"I had something for you." He held out the wrapped package, waiting for her to take it.

She eyed it. "There is nothing I want from you anymore." She walked out the door, leaving him a little crushed with no time to mourn.

He placed the present on the coffee table and ran out the door after her, afraid if he took any longer, she'd change her mind and leave.

(Image by Pexels on Pixabay)