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Turning to grab his watch from the nightstand, he squints through the low light of early morning to check the time. He sets it back down and then scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s 5:45 in the morning. You’re going to have to help me out here.”
I wave my hand between us and the door. “Our rooms are so far apart in this place that I might as well still live in Brooklyn.”
“I’ve still got nothing, Tealey. You’ll have to spoon-feed it to me.”
Not sure what he’s not understanding, I huff and sit back up. “Why are we still existing in two rooms?”
Now I have his attention—eyes wide open, line between his brows. “You want to move into my room? You’re already here.”
“I want us to get ready for bed and work together, to have a set space that we go to without asking ‘my place or yours’ every night. Sure, it’s funny, but it’s starting to feel like a barrier instead.”
Flipping the covers off his body, he gets out of bed and stretches. As he heads for the bathroom, he says, “You can move into my room on one condition.”
“Name it.”
He returns to me and pulls off the covers, letting his gaze graze down my body. “You take your shower with me in the mornings.”
I flop back down on the bed with my hands behind my head and my ankles crossed, soaking in this victory. “I have no problem with that.”
“Then you have yourself a deal.” His head signals toward the bathroom. “Deal starts now. Get that sexy ass in there.”
* * *
Sitting at my desk a few hours later, I hear Misty Connor asking for me. I stand. “I’m here. Come on back.”
Her eyes meet mine, and she walks down the corridor created by the cubicles, stopping when she reaches mine. I smile, noticing that she’s holding her head up and looking me in the eyes. “Hi, you weren’t here last week when I came by.”
Remembering my day of playing hooky, I try not to let guilt from missing work set in. It’s a hard habit to break, though. “Sorry I missed you. I was out that day. Have a seat. I’d like to hear an update.”
She sits in the chair, setting the brown purse at her feet. Although it’s a gentler smile she’s wearing, it’s more than any I’ve seen on her before. She says, “Mr. Wellington has helped my case tremendously. I actually have hope that it’s going to work out how it’s supposed to. Deacon hasn’t violated the restraining order despite threats that he would.”
“You need to report those threats. A record of certain types of behavior is critical for a judge to side in your favor.”
“Yes. My attorney went over everything that he set up. I can’t thank you enough, Tealey. Rad has been a blessing, and he’s so nice. You said you were friends, but when I mentioned you, he looked different. I don’t mean to pry, but I can tell he thinks very highly of you.”
I try not to, but I smile. “I appreciate that, Misty. I don’t normally discuss my personal life with clients, so please forgive me.”
“No. No.” She raises her hands in front of her. “I understand. Just thought it was worth mentioning.”
I can feel my heart racing like Rad and I share more than a bedroom now. Our lives have entwined in a way that makes me glad I took a chance involving him. “Do you have time to go over the benefits?”
“Yes, that’s why I came. I spoke to a social worker in Philadelphia near where my mom lives.”
“If you need me, I can help with the transfer and verifications.”
I can’t stop looking at how different she appears—healthier, less burdened by life, no bruises or black eyes.
She says, “There’s a lot of paperwork. I’m surprised it’s not all in the system.”
“It’s an antiquated system, but we’re working on getting it updated.” I slide my keyboard closer and type in her name to pull up her file.
“Mr. Wellington suggested I consider serving the divorce papers in the next week. That would give me time to get us moved to Philly and find a job before school starts.”
Though she’s not asking, I’m not in a position to offer advice. “I can’t offer you legal advice, but I would trust Mr. Wellington with my life.” And my heart, but that’s too personal to mention.
I don’t have much time, but I have enough to set her up with a resource director in Philly as well as a contact from one of the social services’ offices near her mom’s house. As soon as she’s gone, Lowell dips his face over the dividing wall. “Come to my office, Tealey.”
As soon as I know the clients waiting up front are situated with another social worker, I trek back to Lowell’s office. Knocking twice on the door with my knuckle causes him to look up. “Come in and take a seat.” I move around the chair to sit, but he stops me. “Close the door first.”
