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I pursed my lips. “How about it goes to the homeless outside?” There was no shortage of people to feed who weren’t as privileged as the people inside this building—I’d passed by many of them on my walks to and from work.
Something flashed in his steely eyes, his grin never leaving his face. “Okay, Mara,” he agreed. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I looked at all the food, moving closer to inspect the contents of each container. Eyeing one full of biscuits and gravy, I pulled it toward me before reaching back out to grab a small container of fresh fruit. “This is perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”
Leo pushed off the wall to find a fork for me in one of his kitchen drawers, reaching to hand it over across the island. “So, I know this is probably the last thing you want to think about right now, but unfortunately my parents are due to arrive this afternoon.” He placed both hands on the edge of the island, using the surface to support some of his weight as he looked intently at me. “I’m not . . .” He paused, swallowing as he seemed to collect himself. “Please understand that there are no expectations around your involvement. After last night?—”
“You’re rescinding the contract?” I interrupted through a full mouth of food.
He sighed. “Mara, after what happened last night, I couldn’t possibly ask you to parade around some fake fairytale just to help me appease my stifling parents. It’s . . . selfish. Beyond selfish. And you?—”
“No,” I cut him off again, before I could even fully process his words. It was like my mouth had a mind of its own. I mean, not having to follow through with that ridiculous deal did sound tempting, but it would mean reversing the part where I got Larkspur in the end. “I don’t want to cancel it.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
“No. I’m still in. I . . .” I would never in a million years confess this out loud, especially not to Leo, but after everything that happened last night, after all of these old wounds had been reopened, I needed a distraction like this. Something I could exert some control over. And the deepest, rawest parts of me knew the one real truth that I didn’t want to admit even to myself—I didn’t want to be alone. “I would like to continue as planned. I’m fine, really. Last night was . . . a shitty thing that happened. I don’t want to wallow in it.”
Even as I said the words, I could feel my body flushing with an icy heat. So I gave myself a reprieve from his gaze and instead looked down at my food, shoveling a piece of biscuit and sausage into my mouth.
“Are you sure?” Leo asked tentatively, obviously unconvinced.
I didn’t look up at him as I answered, focused on stabbing a sliced strawberry with my fork. “Definitely.”
After what felt like a full minute, he sighed. “Okay.” He sounded tired, and I knew it had everything to do with my takeover of his bedroom last night.
“I’m going to have to get some things from my place, since I’ll be living here and all.” I finally looked up at him. “I think I’m going to go home to pack a few bags and get out of your hair for an hour or two. I’m sure you’d like a little time to yourself.”
“No, I’ll take you.”
My shoulders dropped. “Leo, you’re exhausted. I already ruined your night, don’t let me ruin your day, too.”
He scoffed. “You most certainly did not ruin my night, Mara. While I desperately wish you hadn’t run after that man and gotten hurt, I understand why you did it. And you are also not going to be the reason today is ruined, either. That will undoubtedly be accomplished by my father.”
I sighed. “Well, what if I just need a minute to myself?”
“I’d normally give it without another thought. But so long as you have a ‘probable concussion,’ I’m responsible for making sure you don’t drop dead from a brain bleed. You’re still on my watch for . . .” He looked at the digital display on his silver microwave. “. . . fourteen more hours. Which means, you’re not going anywhere without me.”
I dropped my head back and looked up at the ceiling, knowing there was no use in fighting him on this, and choosing to ignore the flare of ridiculous excitement that lined my stomach. “Fine.”
My keys jangled in my hand as I worked to unlock my door, knocking against the mini-canister of pepper spray that hung from the silver hoop. Leo watched from where he stood, stiff and robotic like he was my bodyguard and not my . . . Hm. What is he? A friend felt like a stretch—though, I supposed if we were going to be successful with our ruse this week, we needed to convince others we were much more than that.
Still forced to wear his clothes—admittedly a better alternative to last night’s skimpy work outfit—I turned to eye him warily as I pushed open the heavy door to my studio apartment. “It’s small,” I warned him before he even had a chance to say anything. “Not all of us can afford penthouses, and it’s only me, so it’s just?—”
“Nice,” interrupted Leo as he stepped through, looking around at my six-hundred-square-foot safe haven. He’d swapped his glasses for contacts, but had still kept it casual in his joggers and tee, adding only a half-zip athletic sweater before we ventured here. Leo had insisted on driving, but I wanted to feel the early sunlight on my face, the cold air from last night’s rain in my lungs.
Leo’s gaze landed on my pink velvet couch adorned with forest green decorative pillows. “It’s nice in here, Mara. Very . . . you.”
I felt my skin tighten around my body, compressing against my bones. No one else had been inside my apartment in over a year, and to see him here, scanning over my things while probably doing his best to keep a straight face—it made me feel more exposed than I would have liked to feel around him. “You can just take a seat.” I waved toward the couch, thankful I’d at least had the foresight to put all my clean underwear away from where it’d been piled there yesterday morning. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
He nodded, seating himself into a worn cushion as his strong legs splayed wide open. My couch looked like doll furniture with him on it. Quickly turning away from the sight, I tried to pretend like he wasn’t here at all as I started pulling enough clothes for the week out of various dresser drawers, stuffing them into a beige canvas duffle as I went. I made sure to grab my birth control pills off my nightstand—an assurance I still found comfort in despite my recent lack of intimacy with men.
Halfway through my packing, my phone vibrated from where I’d tossed it on my bed. A picture of my parents appeared on the screen—a photo I’d taken the last time I saw them, my father’s arm wrapped around my mother’s shoulder as she looked up at him with a soft smile. I’d taken it on a whim in the kitchen one night, wanting to capture proof of their easy love so I could remember something like that was possible.
Glancing back toward Leo, I found him absentmindedly taking in the details of my apartment—the green lava lamp on the end of the TV console, a framed poster of Fleetwood Mac on the wall next to the fridge, the string of white fairy lights that I’d fastened to the ceiling. If I didn’t answer this call from my parents now, I’d have to call them back later. It was Sunday, and I’d promised till I was blue in the face that, at the very least, I’d make time for them each week and provide evidence that I was still alive and kicking. Before I could talk myself out of it, I swiped my thumb to answer the call and changed the audio setting to speaker-mode so I could keep packing. “Hey, guys,” I said quietly, glancing at Leo again a bit self-consciously.
“My baby girl!” My father’s baritone voice rumbled through the phone, and Leo turned to find me watching him.
I quickly turned away.
