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I bite back a smile. “I’m afraid so.” I point toward the only door in here. “There’s the bathroom, of course.”
He finally meets my gaze again. “Well, it’s certainly cozy, isn’t it?”
“It’s a studio.” I shrug. “It’s supposed to be small. This is New York. What can I say? Rents here are outrageous. Now stop making fun of my apartment. What are you doing here when you should be on a plane back to London?”
“Because I’m not going back, not just yet anyway. I’ve come here to work things out with you.” Connor retrieves his suitcase from the hallway and sets it just inside my door. “I wasn’t about to leave America without seeing you again.”
“Connor—”
“I’m sorry about what Angelica said. I told you she was awful. You must ignore anything that comes out of her mouth. I always do. I’m afraid she and my grandfather were cut from the same cloth.”
“I doubt she’s the only one in your family who feels this way.”
He frowns. “You’re probably right. But as I said, I don’t care. We’ll ignore them.” He takes another step forward until we’re practically toe to toe. “Didn’t last night mean anything to you?” I’m stunned by the look of hurt on his face.
“Of course it did. Last night was amazing.”
“Then nothing’s changed, Kennedy, aside from a bitter old woman spewing hateful words. We’ll ban her from our lives. We’ll block her—ghost her. Problem solved.”
“You’re going to ban your father’s side of the family?”
He shrugs. “Why not? My mother adores you. That’s all that matters, right?”
I’m saved from answering when there’s a knock at my door.
“Excuse me,” I say, slipping past him to go to the door. I glance through the peephole to see Mrs. Philbin standing on my welcome mat, holding Betty in her hands. I open the door. “Hello, Mrs. Philbin.”
“I brought Betty back to you.” As she hands me my spider plant, she leans to one side in an attempt to see into my apartment.
Mrs. Philbin is eighty-five years old. She’s a tiny thing, barely five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds when wet. Her hair is a cloud of soft white curls, her eyes a pale shade of blue. She’s also nosey as can be, but in a good way. She means well.
Mrs. Philbin peers past me, and when her gaze lands on Connor, her eyes narrow. “I saw the gentleman sitting outside your door,” she says in a hushed voice. “Who is he?”
Before I can answer, Connor strides forward and offers Mrs. Philbin his hand. “Connor Murphy, at your service, madame. I’m honored to make your acquaintance.”
Shaking his hand, she looks at me. “He’s British, Kennedy,” she whispers, as if that’s news to me.
I nod. “Yes, he is.”
“What do you want with Kennedy?” she asks him.
“I’ve come here to court her.” Connor glances down at me. “With your permission, of course.”
Mrs. Philbin’s gaze bounces from me to Connor and back to me. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Kennedy. You’ve been holding out on me.”
“I didn’t know either,” I say.
We hear the sound of another door opening and closing just down the hallway. A moment later, my other neighbor, Ms. Talisman, appears at my door. Ms. Talisman is quite the opposite of Mrs. P. She’s tall and dark, her voice direct and commanding. “I heard voices. Is everything all right?”
Mrs. Philbin points to Connor. “This British fella says he’s courting Kennedy.”
Ms. Talisman directs her dark eyes on Connor. “Is that true, young man?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Connor nudges me back a step. “Now if you ladies will excuse us, Kennedy and I have a lot to discuss. I’m sure you understand.” And then he gently shuts the door and sighs. “Your neighbors are rather attentive, aren’t they?”
I smile. “Is that your way of saying they’re nosey?”
“Yes. Now, where were we? How about we start with a tour of your flat?”
