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Those six people are talking amongst themselves about investments, short selling, and things that I have yet to learn about.
Once I’m working full-time as a doctor, I can start thinking about how to manage my finances. For now, it’s all about wearing the clothing I brought with me from Hartford and buying whatever food is cheapest to eat.
I catch his eye as he turns to glance at me over his shoulder. “What night works for you?”
I thought that was a better choice than if I had blurted out tonight. I don’t want to seem eager to spend more time with him, but that’s exactly what I am.
“Tomorrow,” he says smoothly before he smiles at one of the women in the elevator who is dressed in a power suit and sporting a four hundred dollar haircut.
I’m estimating the price of that based on what Gwynn has told me about the salon one of her roommates works at. It’s on Park Avenue and only serves a select clientele.
The woman in the suit shifts slightly, so she’s closer to him.
She has to be closer to his age than I am. She probably has loads of life experience that far surpasses my own in the bedroom and out of it.
Matthew cocks a brow. “Does tomorrow work?”
I like that he’s still focused on me even though the woman between us keeps trying to catch his attention with her breathy sighs and the twirl of her finger in her red hair.
“Tomorrow works for me,” I say.
That lures the woman’s gaze to me. She shoots me a half-cocked smile that I take as a ‘good for you, girl’.
I offer her back a grin.
“Why don’t you bring something tasty over to my place at eight?” Matthew suggests. “I’ll have the table set and waiting for you.”
Um, what?
I thought we were going to sit at my crowded dining room table and eat one of the take-out meals straight from the container with two of the mismatched forks the octogenarian left behind when he moved out.
“Okay,” I answer with a tremor in my tone. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
When we reach our floor, he doesn’t get off. Instead, he continues his ride up. I assume that’s so he can visit Roman and his family.
I race to my apartment door, unlock it and storm inside with my heart battering around inside my chest.
“He invited me to his place,” I whisper to myself. “I’m going to be inside his apartment.”
I drop everything in my hands and dance in a circle, not caring if he extended the invite because he’s a good neighbor.
A few days ago, he didn’t know who I was. A little more than twenty four hours from now, I’ll be in his apartment.
How the hell is this my life?
Chapter Seventeen
Matthew
I knock on the door to the apartment that my brother and his family live in.
Instantly, I can make out the sound of fast running steps on the other side of the door.
It’s a foot race.
It’s always a race when my twin nieces hear someone on the approach.
The door swings open.
I spot Dora first with her mismatched clothes. Today it’s a pair of red pants and a bright purple and green striped sweater. On her feet are two different socks – one blue, the other a polka dot pattern of red and orange.
“Uncle Matty,” she screams my name as she launches herself at me. “You’re here!”
It takes me less than a second to drop to my knees as Georgie, her sister, comes in for a hug.
I embrace them both tightly, as I always do.
I’ve been an integral part of their lives since day one. Their birth mother didn’t stick around long enough to realize what remarkable people her children are.
That fact has never been lost on me. I consider myself damn lucky that I’ve had a front row seat to the first seven years of their lives. I hope to have the same with my nephew, who is set to arrive next month.
“Hey, Matt,” my sister-in-law, Bianca, calls from behind the girls. “You’re staying for dinner, right?”
That’s the plan I worked out with my brother earlier. I’ll take a seat at the dinner table in exchange for some story time with my two favorite girls.
That will give my brother and his wife a chance to go to their favorite place in this city. Bow Bridge. I have inside information that Roman is going to propose to his wife again tonight.
It’s a running joke in the family, but it tickles Bianca pink to accept her loving husband’s proposals a few times a month.
“You know it,” I answer back.
“Hurray!” Dora bounces away from me. “Let’s go draw on the wall.”
I’m responsible for that. A few months ago, I started a mural on their bedroom wall that has taken on a life of its own. Roman grumbled about it initially, but he’s taken a marker to the wall more than once.
