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She eventually grew cold and pulled the sheets over her perfect body.
I wanted to stay, but the streets called for my attention. “What will you do for work?”
“I’ll go back to the office tomorrow. I told my clients I had a family emergency…which was somewhat true.”
“You don’t have to work if you don’t want to.”
“I like my job. I get to dress rich people in designer clothes and make them look amazing.”
“If they’re rich, you should charge more.”
“I don’t do it for the money.”
“You should. Imagine the apartment you would have. Imagine the clothes you would wear.”
She lifted her chin to look at me. “What’s wrong with my apartment?”
I held her stare.
“Never pegged you as the snobby type…” There was a slight smile on her lips, like she wasn’t truly offended by what I’d said.
“I’m not snobby. I just expect more out of life—as should you.”
“Or you can learn to be happy with what you have.”
“Only small-minded people feel that way—and you aren’t small-minded.” I continued to smoke my cigar, holding it between my fingers as my arm rested on my knee.
“Your ambition is sexy, but not all people think the same way.”
I stared at her profile as I treasured what we had. I could be completely honest with her and she didn’t call me an asshole. “If I bought you an apartment, would you accept it?”
“Wow, I didn’t realize how much you hated this place.”
“I just want you to have everything you deserve.”
She didn’t say anything for a while. “I appreciate the offer, but I like my apartment. I’d reconsider if the new apartment included you…” She didn’t hold my gaze as she made the suggestion.
“You want to live with me?” It was hard to imagine at first, sharing my space with someone else, day and night, opening my closet and seeing dresses and heels on one side of it. When I walked into the bathroom, there would be perfume and makeup on the counter, a pink razor in the shower. The top drawer of my dresser would have her delicates, her brightly colored thongs and lacy bras. It would be an infringement on my space, my identity. But if she lived there…I’d see her wear my t-shirt to bed, see her strut across the room in just her panties when she got out of the shower, see her without makeup first thing in the morning.
She still didn’t look at me. “Yes…if you asked.”
I almost did.
But it would be wrong to ask, not when my own men wanted me dead. My residence was a possible location for a hit, and the last thing I wanted was Laura there, especially in the event that I wasn’t.
So I said nothing.
It was awkward at first, as if she expected me to ask, and when I didn’t, the tension slowly faded. “I have to go.” I left the bed, put out the remainder of the cigar, and dressed in the clothes I’d arrived in.
She pulled on one of her oversized shirts. The material was thin, so her nipples were hard through the fabric. When she walked me to the door, she didn’t seem angry or disappointed by my rejection. She still seemed happy that she had me at all.
When she looked at me like that, like I was the best thing that had ever happened to her, it did some crazy shit to me. Made meconsider options I’d never considered before. Made me think of a different way of life.
She walked me to the door. “Good morning.” She gave me a quick kiss goodbye.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
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