Partners in Romance

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Josh Waldron wandered barefoot around his new temporary apartment, counting his steps, listening to the echoes in the nearly empty space. Wondering how long it would take to feel like home.

The relocation agency had done an amazing job finding this place—a beautifully converted factory loft not far from downtown Atlanta.

Mellow hardwood floors throughout, salvaged from an old school gym. Concrete countertops in the kitchen and baths, all inset with old skeleton keys and bits of stained glass and gears and springs rescued from the factory.

The non-stinky paint they’d used lived up to its name. The only thing he smelled was the lemongrass of his own deodorant.

Close to the MARTA transit line that would take Josh on a quick ride to his new job in a couple of days. Plenty of parking under the building for those unlucky enough to have to dive into the whirlpool of traffic every morning and evening.

The builders had managed to retain the retro-cool vibe of the hundred-year-old brick building while bringing in touches of pure modern. Josh had already taken himself from the third floor upstairs to the roof to see the huge array of solar panels and solar water-heating tanks, perfect for an already hot and sunny mid-May in Georgia.

From what he’d heard and read, the massive black water tanks and gleaming rectangles of blue and silver would be every bit as effective in February down here.

From the roof, he could see what looked like a gigantic forest all around him, broken here and there by the nearby train lines and the three huge interstate highways that bordered and defined Metro Atlanta. As for the city itself, the clustered glassy towers of downtown were closer, but he could see the sprawling jumble of big Midtown buildings in the distance as well.

He hadn’t quite worked out what happened to uptown, why locals never seemed to capitalize downtown, or what Midtown was supposed to be halfway to. It was almost as mysterious as the dizzying number of streets with Peachtree in the name.

The factory loft developers had even managed to include a tree-lined courtyard with fire pits and two pools (one long enough for laps, the other twisty and clearly meant for relaxing), a community garden, and a half-mile-long running track around the complex. The track, the walking surface around the pool, and the raised gardening beds made with almost entirely recycled materials, of course.

Josh wondered how many pairs of shredded old sneakers had helped create the track’s springy blue surface, so much more forgiving on his forty-something-year-old hips than concrete.

He brushed his fingertips over the mess of photos, paintings, and various other bit of art stacked up against the wall in the living room as he passed by. His preferred black metal frames were already warm from early Friday morning sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Getting at least a few of those hung on the flat white walls would help give the place a homey touch, even if he did decide to send the rest right back to storage. Hanging anything on the solid wall of original tan brick might be more tricky, but the maintenance folks had sworn it could be done.

Josh walked back into the kitchen and opened the door of the stainless steel refrigerator again, staring at the mostly empty bright white shelves and spotless glass compartments.

Nope, the fridge hadn’t managed to sprout whatever magical variety of food would satisfy his restless cravings in the ten minutes since he’d last checked. Only boring staples like milk, eggs, stuff for sandwiches. Fuel, basically, rather than anything more inspiring.

The only non-standard splurge for him was the decidedly non-organic non-dairy creamer he’d splashed into his coffee when he got up.

He purposely mussed his in-need-of-a-trim brown hair, wanting to make something at least feel lived-in. Comfortable. Familiar.

The echoing sound of his own footsteps only made the loneliness worse.

The move had been the right decision. Josh’s mind—freed from the demands of a slowly dying relationship for the first time in eight years—understood that, and had reacted accordingly by leaping into action the second a concrete job offer in digital special effects materialized.

Josh and his mind had finally punched their ticket for the Life Change Express straight out of Nowhereville, Ohio, barely three weeks ago. After nearly three years of study, and a year after the end of his relationship with Mike. Josh had heard and heeded the advice to avoid big decisions right after a breakup. Even if that breakup had only been delayed by inertia.

Now here he was, within reach of his big city dreams.

Staring out the window at the city he’d chosen to dream in.

Hoping the whole thing would be worth facing alone.

Maybe if he repeated the mantra to his heart a few thousand more times (the move was the right decision), the message would finally sink in.

Movement down in the community garden caught his attention, and he gratefully accepted the distraction.

Several people milled around at the arched metal gateway to the garden, right before the broad graveled path split to pass through the neat and even rows of knee-high boxes. Josh didn’t recognize anyone, but then he’d barely met anyone since moving in a few days ago. He could make out two men and three women, but not much else.

They did look like they were around his general age, at least from three stories up. Exactly the sorts of people he wanted to meet if he went by clothing and general attitude. Blue jeans, colorful t-shirts. A couple of floppy sunhats.

The willingness to work together to make the sprawling garden better for everybody, even if they were supposedly there for the short term, like Josh.

Nice as these apartments were, about a quarter of them were tiny, designed for people who would be moving out or moving on before too much time passed. Less than a thousand square feet, much less in some cases.

Josh had a small living room, bathroom, one bedroom, and the strangely large kitchen. Maybe that’s where people were supposed to gather, if transient residents gathered at all.

He hadn’t planned on needing any kind of temporary housing. Not years back when he’d starting daydreaming, then thinking, then planning this move into the next phase of his life.

He’d expected to be buying a house with Mike.

Not huddled in a glorified hotel and pretending he was fine with that. Acting like this half-new life, this rootless existence would suit him for more than a few weeks.

Pushed out of his hyper-focused plans and dreams and expectations by Mike’s need for constant calm. Stability. Predictability.

And because it had taken Josh so long to recognize how his own growing need for change—and the fear that went along with it—left the two of them less compatible rather than more as the years passed.

Well, his longed-for change was finally here, and he wasn’t about to huddle inside and try to avoid it now.

Josh shook himself, stepped into a pair of the shoes he’d lined up neatly beside the front door, and escaped the empty apartment.