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“Nicky, you don’tlikedriving in the city. I used to pick you up for dates all the time.”
He tossed his iced coffee in the garbage and walked back over to me, hooking his arm around my waist as he started to lead me down the stairs.
“I would be more fun if we could do this another time,” I said. “I had a long night.”
“That's no problem,” he said. “You’re already familiar with my bed. You can have a nap there.”
Why did he have a stupid answer for everything? I just wanted to go home and cuddle my cat. People were staring by this point, and it cowed any outward reaction I might have. I let him pull me along, out into the parking lot and into the early morning sunshine. His black sedan was occupying one of the accessible parking spaces.
Gross.
He opened the passenger door for me, and I looked longingly at my little car across the lot.
“Your carriage awaits, my lady.”
He watched me intently for so long that I finally gave in and sat down, nerves twitching in my belly. The true crime show I’d watched a couple weeks ago flashed in my head. Never let them take you to a second location. But that was silly. Alphonse wasn’t going to murder me.
I worked my thoughts around to calm myself. Alphonse had been a decent cook when we had been together, and he kept his place clean, which was a far cry above a lot of people I had dated.
“Are you enjoying being back in the country?” I asked, for lack of anything else to say.
“I’m settling in nicely, though not quite finished unpacking. You’ll be my first proper guest.”
I fidgeted with my phone. I couldn’t really send his address to anyone when I had no idea what it was or where we were going.
“It's rude to be on your phone while you’re with other people, Nicky. I know you know better than that.”
“Sorry.” I tucked my phone to the side where he couldn’t see and sent a tracker pin to the first message my thumb hit, tucking it into my purse while I watched the streets we passed.
“You used to be a much better conversationalist. Surely you have something to say after not seeing me for two years.”
My hackles rose. “I told you I was tired.”
“That's all right. I can talk for the both of us for a while.” He went on to regale me about Japan and his life in Tokyo. We were way farther from the library than I was expecting, across the entire city in fact. My phone had buzzed three more times in my bag, but Alphonse gave me such a look of disapproval that I didn’t take it out to see what had been sent.
We pulled up to a neat little townhouse with navy blue siding and white trim.
“It's cute,” I said. It wasn’t the house’s fault that Alphonse lived in it. I’d been mostly silent during the drive, adding appropriateooh'sandaah'sduring his story when he looked over at me expectantly.
“I think you’ll like the inside,” he said. “I’ve gotten a bit more into decorating since we were last together.”
I followed him in, clutching my purse to my chest. My phone buzzed again.
He unlocked the front door and waited for me to enter, closing and deadbolting it behind us. Unease trickled up my spine, so I focused on the details. His place was tidy. Colourful art decorated the walls, great quality furniture filled the space, and the kitchen looked recently updated.
“Have a seat at the table,” he instructed. “Coffee?”
“Orange juice, if you have it.”
He frowned at my response. “You used to take what I offered you.”
“I work nights now,” I explained. “I don’t want to be drinking coffee before I go to sleep.”
He nodded, but the tension didn’t leave his body. “I’m not sure I like you working nights.”
I didn’t really give a flying fuck if he liked it or not. “I love it.”
“How are you going to work nights when you get married?” he asked, pulling out a carton of orange juice from the fridge and pouring me a glass. “What about when you have children?”
