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That was a much easier explanation, but it was also much harder to convince myself of as I walked Lock, got ready for bed, tossed and turned.
But soon, work was over, I was packing up some of Lock's things, tucking him into a ridiculous carry-on to skate past the "no dogs unless they are in bags" rule, then headed up toward Crosby's place.
It was a bit of a culture shock to go from my neighborhood and shoebox apartment to Crosby's neighborhood and apartment.
There was no denying that Crosby and his siblings had a leg-up in life, but the only reason Crosby was able to afford his apartment was because he worked his butt off, he was constantly trying harder to make more.
It was something I truly respected about him even though I didn't have the same drive. I liked my little job that did some good in the world. And while, sure, I would have loved to live in a building that sported an Olympic swimming pool, basketball court, bowling alley, gym, indoor garden, and music room, I was happy in my littler life.
Still, it was always impressive to visit him, to walk into the sun-soaked lobby—though it was dark now, the city lights streaming in—thanks to floor-to-ceiling windows. The lobby was an expansive space, but kept minimalistic in style with light stone walls, dark wood floors, and small, modern furniture placed about.
I gave a smile to the doorman as we walked to the elevators, taking it up to Crosby's floor.
His apartment was about three times the size of mine. Which was still small by most of the country's standards, but was massive for New York City ones.
Much like the lobby, his apartment had floor-to-ceiling windows all across one side, letting in the city lights. These days, though, Crosby had them outlined in happy little twinkle lights, the sight of which made me smile immediately.
The kitchen was to the left of the door, cut off from the rest of the space with an island with chairs that acted as his dining room. The cabinets were a dark wood, the countertops white, the appliances stainless steel and fancy. But not nearly as fancy as his couch. I'd been with him when he'd picked it out. It was an oversize tufted sofa in a light champagne color. It had cost three-grand and my heart had skipped a beat at the price-tag. Crosby hadn't even blinked.
On that couch was Jellybean, sitting inside her circular fluffy bed, casually gnawing on a treat, pretending to ignore the fact that Jaw had arrived.
"Will she ever stop pretending she's not head-over-heels for the dog from the wrong side of the tracks?" Clarence asked, breezing in from the hallway, immediately dropping to a squat to accept some of Lock's abundant love as I shrugged out of my heavy jacket, hanging it over the couch arm. "We're going to have a good time, buddy. Some treats, a couple long walks, then we can all crash. You two sound like you have a fun night planned," he added, straightening, giving me a smile.
"It's going to be amazing."
"And you couldn't ask for better company," Clarence said, making my brows pinch together. Clarence was not typically the hype-man type of sibling. He was more of a rib-you-for-everything-you-do sort of one.
"Yeah, Crosby is Mr. Christmas, after all," I agreed, feeling weird when Clarence gave me a somewhat frantic nod.
"Oh, hey, Dea. I didn't hear you," Crosby said, coming out from his bedroom, carrying a bag in front of him.
"More presents? Careful, a girl could get used to this," I said, doing gimme hands until he forked over the bag.
"We had to have more ugly sweaters for tonight's festivities," Crosby declared, grabbing the sides of his shirt to stretch it wide for inspection.
He had on a red sweater with a giant target on the front with three red and green plastic balls wrapped in velcro attached with the words, "You miss, you drink" underneath.
"Oh, that shirt is going to get me in trouble," I grumbled. "I have the aim of a toddler."
With that, I reached into my bag, producing a red sweater as well with a big Christmas tree on front with actual twinkle lights attached and the words, "Let's get lit!" across the front.
"There's a little battery pack to turn on the lights," Crosby told me, coming over to click them on.
"Oh, my. That is truly hideous," I decided, beaming up at him.
"Come on, put it on. The dogs and I have a full night planned," Clarence demanded, making me laugh as I handed the sweater to Crosby, reaching for the hem of my own green sweater, and hauling it up and off.
I thought nothing of it, of course.
It wasn't like I was in my bra under it or anything.
It was the winter. We did a lot of walking in the cold. I dressed in layers. So I had my usual white tank top underneath.
