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“Home?”Arsène raised an eyebrow. “Nice choice of word.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” I quipped. “Bye, Charles.”
“Bye, kids.” Charlie was already engrossed in aDiscoverymagazine he was flipping through.
The three of us made our way to the elevator. Christian and Arsène exchanged looks.
“Who should tell him?” Arsène asked, businesslike.
Tell who what? I was too preoccupied for his brand of bullshit.
“Not me.” Christian held up his hands. “If he goes through a mental breakdown, Arya’s gonna expect me to spend time with him. I lack the patience.Andsympathy.”
“Who’s having a mental breakdown?” I asked, thinking they must’ve been continuing their conversation from the balcony.
“No one,” Christian said, at the same time Arsène said, “You, idiot.”
“Why would I have a mental breakdown?” We all stopped by the elevator.
Christian glanced behind his shoulder, to the room we’d just left Charlie in.
“When the old man dies.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “He’s a nice guy, but a meltdown is a stretch.”
The elevator slid open.
“Maybe it’s my destiny”—Arsène shook his head, looking upward—“to be surrounded by morons.”
The day just kept going progressively shittier.
After bailing on drinks with my friends, I made my way back to Duffy’s. When I got to her floor, I couldn’t find the door. Not because it had disappeared, but because there were approximately eighty thousand fucking roses waiting for her, blocking the path to the entire hallway.
Who did something so stupid? Sent someone who lived in a tiny apartment in New York thousands of roses, cramming up the entire goddamn building? But the answer was clear—Cocksucker. Cocksucker, who never had to live anywhere smaller than four-thousand-square-foot houses, even in college, I bet.
There were roses everywhere. Red roses. White roses. Pink roses. Yellow roses.
Roses didn’t make up for the fact that the man fucked someone else in Thailand.Orthat he was in Thailand, not Nepal.Orthat he’d left her. Man, if she took him back, she’d be the biggest idiot on Planet Earth.
No. That would be you. For buying into your sham fucking relationship.
Upon closer inspection, I realized that on each of the roses was a petal with the imprintPlease forgive me. I bet he thought it was a nice touch.
Somehow, I managed to push through and get to the door. Normally, if any packages were outside, I brought them inside. Not this time. We didn’t have space to store all of BJ’sI know I fucked upflowers. Even if we did, I wasn’t going to help his cause.
Inside was a Tupperware container waiting on the counter, along with a note.
I walked over to it and picked up the note.
Riggs,
Interview was cut short due to my visa situation (it’s fine, I’m over it), so I had time to stop at the flat.
I made you some stuffed zucchini. You can’t live off junk. Eat it. It’s an order.
Also, the neurologist’s office called. They had to move your appointment. Please call them to reschedule.
BBL.
