Chapter 2

Jim meets his tall handsome neighbor:

Three days before Jim and Jessica’s wedding, Jim was a mess in their new 10th-floor apartment, his moving boxes turning the living room into a war zone. Jessica’s silk throw pillows, sapphire and gold, spilled from crates, her crystal vases gleaming on a shelf beside Jim’s scrubs, folded into tight squares. The coffee table sagged under her wedding planner, sticky notes fluttering and ribbon samples scattered like petals. A tray of her perfumes sat nearby, bottles arranged by Jim’s trembling hands: floral left, musk right, per her orders. His world was the mop bucket, soapy water splashing as he scrubbed the hardwood, and a cloth for polishing her silverware, each spoon shining like a jewel.

His ER shift had been hell—12 hours of broken wrists and wailing kids, his scrubs clinging under a faded tee—but Jessica’s private practice was a breeze, home by five with her hair all glossy. Jim was still moving in, his boxes of textbooks and socks dwarfed by Jessica’s elegant touches. She’s my queen, he thought, picturing her green eyes, the way she’d tossed him her dry-cleaning ticket last week with a smirk: Don’t mess it up, Jim. She’d picked his wedding suit (navy, “it’s sharper”), their date nights, even how he sorted her mugs—her rules were his life, and he worshipped them. Gotta keep her happy, or she’ll ditch a scrub like me.

He was polishing a teaspoon, his fingers sore, when a creak from the living room turned into a jagged crack. The big picture window was jammed halfway, the glass wobbling like it might shatter and tank their deposit. Jessica’s disappointed glare flashed in his mind, her voice cutting: Really, Jim? “Crap, crap!” he muttered, dropping the spoon and rushing over. He yanked at the window, his hands slipping, but it groaned louder, the glass trembling. He grabbed a fork from the counter, prying at the sash like a fool, but it bent, and he tripped over a box of his old journals, crashing to the floor. She’s gonna hate me, he thought, sweat soaking his shirt, his heart hammering.

Jim scrambled up, panting. He needed a tool—a wrench, anything—and his toolbox was buried under Jessica’s coats. The only other apartment on the floor was 10B, some neighbor he’d never met. Desperate, he sprinted down the hall, sneakers squeaking, and jabbed the doorbell, bouncing like a kid. “Please, someone,” he muttered, wiping his brow.

The door opened, revealing a guy who looked like he’d walked out of a movie. Tall, six-foot-two, with muscles bulging under a fitted gray tee, his dark hair tousled just right. His grin was warm, like you were already pals. “Hey, you okay, man?” he said, his voice smooth. “I’m Brian by the way, 10B.”

Jim’s words spilled out. “Hey! I’m Jim, 10A, just moving in, our window’s stuck, it’s gonna break, I need a wrench or something, please. Any chance you have some?” He gasped, face flushed, hands flailing.

Brian chuckled, calm as hell. “Relax, Jim, I got you.” He grabbed a toolbox, pulling out a wrench. “It’s your lucky day! I’m a engineer, deal with this stuff all the time. Let’s see it.” They hustled back, Jim babbling about the deposit, and Brian knelt by the window, his eyes narrowing like he was cracking a code. “Frame’s got too much tension, misaligned pins,” he said, adjusting the wrench with precision. The window slid open with a soft click, the glass steady, no cracks. “Done,” he said, standing. “Fixed one like this at a plant last year. Finicky mechanics.” His grin was easy, and Jim’s jaw dropped, his bent fork dangling.

“You’re a genius,” Jim said, his voice pure gratitude. “Jessica would’ve killed me if we lost the deposit. Thank you, man.”

Brian shrugged, his tee clinging to his shoulders. “No sweat. Neighbors gotta help. Moving in, huh? Place looks sharp.” He nodded at Jessica’s vases, the planner.

“Yeah, Jessica’s got the style,” Jim said, his voice mushy. “She’s a doctor, like me, but she’s ... incredible. Smart, gorgeous, runs the show, you know? Just got off a brutal ER shift, trying to keep up.” He gestured at the perfumes, the scrubs, like they were her crown.

Brian nodded, his tone friendly. “ER, huh? That’s rough. Jessica in the ER too?” His question was casual, just curious.

“Nah, private practice actually,” Jim said, leaning against a box. “She’s got it all together, keeps me on track. Wedding’s Saturday, big deal. I’m making sure it’s perfect for her.” He laughed, shaky, like he was oversharing.

Brian packed his tools, his grin warm. “You’re putting in the work, man, sorting perfumes and all. Respect.” His tone was kind, but Jim blushed, feeling small next to Brian’s height and chill vibe. “Glad I could help. Hit me up if you need anything.”

Jim’s sister calls him:

Jim shut the door, his heart still racing, when his phone buzzed on the counter, buried under Jessica’s bridal magazines, their covers screaming Dream Day! It was Lisa, his sister, and his face lit up like she was his personal savior. He answered, grinning. “Hey, Lis!”

“Hey, sweetie,” Lisa cooed, her voice like warm caramel, all caring but with a tiny edge. “Just checking on my favorite brother. You surviving the move and all that wedding chaos? You didn’t forget the caterer, did you? Or the florist? The cake? Jessica’s counting on her little helper, right?” Her tone was so sweet, like she was proud, but the jab landed, like she knew he’d slip up.

“I’m on it, Lis,” Jim said, puffing up, eager to please her. “Cake’s chocolate with raspberry, Jess’s favorite. Caterer’s set, peonies for the flowers, photographer’s booked. I’m keeping it tight.” He sat on a box, his voice earnest, like he was reporting to a mentor. Lisa had always been his guide—helping him pick colleges, steering him through bad breakups, even picking his prom tux. Her advice was gold, and he hung on every word.

“You’re doing great, hon” Lisa said, her voice sparkling. “Jessica’s so lucky to have you running around for her”. She laughed, a tinkly sound, and Jim grinned, his chest swelling with her approval. “But, hon, moving in and planning a wedding’s a lot. You’re not dropping the ball, right? If something is still no perfect, now is the time you’ve got to tell me.”

“No way,” Jim said, his voice firm. “I got this. Oh, and get this—our big window, you know? It was just about to break ten minutes ago! Total disaster! But happly I rang the neighbor’s bell, this engineer guy Brian in 10B, and he fixed it for me. Lent me a wrench, then just handled it. Saved our deposit.”

Lisa’s voice lit up, all curious. “Brian? Oh, sweetie, that’s so sweet! A helpful neighbor, huh? Tell me more!” Her tone was like she was planning a surprise, all excited.

“Just met him,” Jim said, the silverware tray glinting nearby. “He’s an engineer, lives in 10B, only other place on the floor. Super chill, knew exactly what to do. I was freaking out, but he was all calm, like it was nothing.”

“That’s adorable,” Lisa said, her voice dripping with warmth. “You’re doing so great, Jim, really. But, like, a wedding’s such a big deal, and with the move, your guest list’s must be getting tight, right? All those extra people, like Tom and Greg from med school for example, must be stressing you out.” She paused, her tone all helpful, like she was solving his problems.

Jim frowned, shifting on the box. “Tom and Greg? They’re cool, Lis. We got through med school together, studied all night, shared pizzas. I can’t just ditch them.” His voice was soft, reluctant, like he was scared to disappoint her but loyal to his buddies.

Lisa’s tone stayed sugary, but it sharpened, elegant and firm, like a velvet glove. “Oh, hon, I get it, you’re so sweet to your friends. But Jessica deserves a refined event, not a nerd reunion. Tom and Greg are nice, but they’re ... well, a bit dull, don’t you think? You’re better than clinging to old study buddies, Jim. You’re making a statement with this wedding.”