"What are you doing in Cristina's apartment?" Owen shouted at the dark-haired intruder.
"I live here," the stranger yelled back. Cristina came to the open doorway.
"Julian? What are you doing here?" she said.
"What do you mean what am I doing here? I live here," Julian said in a calmer voice.
"Owen, it's okay. This is my boyfriend, Julian," Cristina said, turning to Owen. Owen put down the baseball bat. She looked at her boyfriend, "I thought you said you were coming home at seven tonight. It is only 4.30."
"Well, the meetings ended earlier than I thought and I caught an earlier flight," Julian said. "Thought I would come home and see my baby. Just wasn't expecting this kind of greeting."
"Sorry about that," Owen said. "I am Owen Hunt, your next door neighbor. I live across from you in Apartment 6C." He went forward and shook the dark-haired man's hand.
"Well, at least I am glad to know that Cristina is adequately protected, when I am not here. Julian Jones is the name," Julian said. He looked at Cristina. "Aren't I going to get a kiss and a hug?" She went to him and he enveloped her into his arms, while he kissed her on the forehead. Owen suddenly felt very weird, seeing this display of affection between Cristina and her boyfriend.
"Well, I think I better go back to my apartment," Owen said.
"You don't have to," Cristina said in a muffled voice, her face still buried in her boyfriend's chest.
"Yes, I have to. I have to give you guys some privacy," Owen said. "Nice to meet you, Julian." He turned and headed back into 6C. He leaned back into the door, as he shut it. He and Cristina had been living in a kind of bubble for the past two days, where their significant others did not exist. Back to real life, he thought.
Back in 6D, Julian was still hugging Cristina. "So I see you already made friends, Cristina," he said. Cristina glanced up at him and said, "Owen has been pretty nice to me for the past two days. He helped me move in, since you were not here. He brought up my boxes and helped me arrange the furniture and unpack our stuff. He even cooked me dinner."
"That was very neighborly of him," Julian said, his green eyes staring intently at her. "Is he single?"
"No, he lives with his girlfriend," Cristina said. "Though I have not met her as yet. I think she is a lawyer."
"Ah," Julian said, glad to hear that the handsome, blonde man was not available. "So where were you two coming from?"
"We went to see that new sci-fi movie at the Cineplex," Cristina said. "It was just awful. We laughed so much, it was so bad. If we hadn't laughed, we probably would have wasted our money."
"So you got someone to go to the movies with you. That's nice," Julian said. "So what about dinner tonight? Do you want to go out?"
"Yeah, if you want. But I did get some groceries this morning, if you want to cook, instead. We were sadly lacking," she said, going to the cupboards and showing that they were no longer bare.
"How did you find the grocery?" Julian asked. He knew that Cristina did not know the area very well.
"Oh, Owen took me this morning," she said. "it is a pretty nice grocery. One of those giant chain supermarkets."
"He has been very helpful," Julian noted. A little too helpful, he thought.
"Yup," Cristina nodded. "He has been a godsend."
"Okay, well, let me just take a bath and we will go explore a restaurant in the neighborhood. One of the reasons I wanted to move here was the variety of restaurants we had here. I know you're not much of a cook and we could always use a good place to eat," he said, heading to their bedroom.
"Stop dissing my cooking skills," she said. "One of these days, I am going to surprise you."
"Yeah, you do that, baby. I have known you for a year and you have yet to cook a decent meal," he said, laughing.
"Ha, ha," Cristina said. She will show him. Owen will teach her to cook something, she thought to herself.
Later, Owen watched from his window, as Cristina and Julian left in his rather showy BMW convertible. He figured Julian would have driven a vehicle, such as that.
"What are you doing?" Sophie asked. She was at the table, having her dinner and reading the newspaper.
"Just looking at our new neighbors," Owen said. "Cristina's boyfriend came back from his business trip, today. I met him, today."
"Is he nice?" Sophie asked, pushing back her long, blonde hair behind her ears.
"He seems okay," Owen said. "Nice enough, I guess. I don't think he is the bongo-playing type like Jasper." Not a stiff, corporate type like Julian, he thought. Julian would not be caught playing bongo drums or anything like that. He wondered what Cristina saw in him. He was a good-looking man, Owen had to admit. But his personality was certainly not what Owen expected Cristina to be attracted to. He expected Cristina to have an affinity to someone like himself, in terms of personality.
"And for that, I am grateful," Sophie said. "I praised the day that Jasper moved out."
"Oh, excuse me," Owen said. He was not quite sure what she was talking about because he was so lost in his own thoughts.
"You were saying that her boyfriend was not the bongo-playing type and I was telling you that I was thankful for that," Sophie said. "What's the matter with you? You seem so absent-minded."
"I am sorry," Owen said. "I think I will head to bed, right now."
"This early?" Sophie said, surprised.
"Yeah, just feeling a little tuckered out," he said, as he headed to their bedroom. Later, when Sophie joined him in bed, he pretended he was asleep but he wasn't. He listened to her even breathing, which indicated that she had fallen asleep, before he turned away and opened his eyes. He was feeling extremely conflicted. Sophie was right next to him, yet all he could do was think about his dark-haired neighbor with the shiny, raven curls. This was wrong, he thought but he could not help himself.
The next day, he came back from his morning jog with bagels and coffee. He took a quick shower, changed into some clean clothes and then, went knocking on Cristina's door. He could hear her, shuffling inside. She opened the door, a little dishevelled. She was wearing a night shirt and her curly hair was pointing in all directions.
"Did I wake you?" he said.
"Yeah, Julian and I were out late last night, trying out one of the restaurants in the neighborhood," she said, as she turned her body to allow him to come in.
"So where is Julian?" he asked.
"Oh, he left for the office, already. First day back after a business trip. He said he needed to get cracking on all of his work," she said. "He left about half hour ago." Owen handed her a cup of coffee.
"I am so grateful for this," she said. "You have no idea." They went to her table, and he watched as she tucked one of her legs under her body, while she swung her free leg. She looked like an adorable little kid, who just woke up from bed.
"So what are your plans for today?" he asked.
"Oh, I got an assignment, last night. I have to interview this artist, who lives in the Hills. Apparently, he is 70 years old and is now starting to get recognized. His work is now in all of the chic downtown galleries. I am going to ask him all about his life and work and what it means to him to be finally recognized, even though it was so late in life," she said. "It is for a magazine."
"Ah," Owen said. "That sounds really interesting."
"I think he would make an awesome subject. Hey, if you are not busy, do you want to come along? I see him around 9 this morning," she said. "You could see me at work."
"Yeah, sure," he said. "I got another project. But I will start that after lunch. We should be back by then, right?"
"Yeah, we could have lunch and then come back home. I could start writing this up," she said.
They had breakfast and then she got dressed for her interview. They used her Juke to drive to the Hills to meet Mortimer Gladstone, artist extraordinaire. Gladstone lived in an early 20th century Mediterranean style home.
"Isn't this gorgeous?" Cristina said. "I love Mediterranean architecture. When I get married, I want to get one of these houses and fix it up."
"Yes, it is beautiful," Owen said. He also had an affinity for Mediterranean style homes, too. That was something they both had in common.
When the man with the wild white hair and the bright blue eyes opened the door, Cristina said, "Mr. Gladstone, I am Cristina Yang. Watercolors magazine sent me over to interview you."
"Ah, yes, welcome, young lady. And this is your young man?" Gladstone said. Neither corrected him on his misconception.
"I am Owen Hunt," Owen said, shaking the older man's hand and noting that he had a very strong grip.
They were ushered into a very large living room that was also doubling as an artist's studio. Cristina took numerous pictures of his works in progress, as well as many of the artist at work. They, then settled down for the interview. He proved to be a very interesting guy, who had not painted when he was younger because he had a family to feed and had worked as a homebuilder to provide for his children. It was only when he turned 60, he first picked up a brush and started painting as a form of solace when his wife died of cancer.
It turned out that he was great and through word of mouth, people started hearing of his work and liked what they saw and he started getting commissions. He had been amazed that he could actually make a living doing this. When his work started seeing the insides of all of the exclusive LA galleries, he was the one who was most surprised.
"So how do you feel getting recognized for your work, so late in life?" she said.
"I always believe that everything happens for a reason. My wife's death was what led me to start painting. Don't get me wrong, I loved my wife but if she had lived, I would not be painting and probably just pottering around in my garden. I would have never known that I had this talent. As for getting recognized so late in life, it was just my time. It was my destiny. The stars lined up in my favor for this to happen to me at the age of 70," he said.
"So you believe in destiny?" Cristina asked.
"Yes, the people we meet; the places we end up; the things we do. It was supposed to happen that way. It may not happen, immediately but if you're supposed to be with someone, life just pushes you into that direction. It is unexplainable," he said. "I met my wife, when I was working on a house in the Valley. She was lost and asked me for directions. If she hadn't been lost, we would never have met. It was our destiny to meet."
"That's beautiful," Owen said. "If two people are meant to be together, then it is just fate."
"Yup," Gladstone said. "Like you two. You found each other." Cristina was about to explain that they were not together but she changed her mind. She took Owen's hand into hers and said, "Yes."
When they drove back to Santa Monica, Owen asked, "Why didn't you tell him that we weren't together?"
"He had such a lovely sentiment about destiny putting people together," Cristina said. "And I didn't want to ruin it." She looked at him. "Besides, there was no harm in it."
"No, so do you want to go to a beachfront restaurant and watch the ocean?" he asked.
"Sure," she said. Owen was quiet. He wondered if the old man was right that if you were meant to be together, then it was going to happen. He looked at Cristina, the wind whipping her hair back. She looked beautiful. She turned and smiled at him. Her smile was like sunshine and made him feel warm and loved.
A/N: Please leave your reviews. I do appreciate reading what you think about this.