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In the elevator, I ask myself why I invited him up when all I really want to do is go to bed and think of how I’ll survive the rest of the week working with Gareth, given how things are between us.
Alas, the deed is already done, so I let him into my apartment. I’m not surprised when he whistles with approval.
“Your apartment is lovely.”
“Thanks,” I reply, taking off my jacket and heading for the kitchen to put the kettle on.
“Are you a secret billionaire that I know nothing about?” he questions when I return to the living room.
Again, I laugh. He stares at the view of the Manhattan skyline and whistles again.
“I could get used to this,” he says and looks at me with a suggestion in his eyes. When I don’t reply, he adds, “I mean, being a regular visitor here would definitely be cool.”
I realize then that I shouldn’t have let him come up. Inviting him has made him assume that I’m interested in more than friendship. Talk about a fast worker.
I don’t know what to say to his suggestive remark, so I only smile.
“Don’t mind me. I think I’m a little tipsy. Coffee will straighten my tongue from saying things I shouldn’t.”
I hope so.
He moves away from the window and settles into an armchair. I listen halfheartedly as he talks about his apartment and neighborhood in Manhattan. All I want is for him to drink his coffee and leave. Thankfully, I hear the kettle’s whistle and go to the kitchen to make the coffee. By the time I return to the living room, Brad is flipping through stations on my television.
“I hope you don’t mind. I’m trying to catch the news,” he mentions as I place the tray on the coffee table.
“No worries,” I answer, even though I think that might make him want to stay longer after he finishes drinking his coffee.
Sighing inwardly with regret, I hand him his cup. As he turns to place the remote on the small stool beside him, his hand hits the cup and the coffee spills on his shirt. I gasp with horror.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry!” I return the almost empty cup to the tray.
He jerks to his feet, and I watch with dismay as his white shirt turns black with coffee stains.
“It’s not your fault. Tipsiness has me so clumsy.”
“Quick, take it off, and I’ll pop it in the washing machine.”
Wordlessly, he takes off his suit jacket, his shirt, and his white singlet stained by the dark liquid. I take them and hurry to throw them in the washing machine before returning with a dish towel to mop my already stained carpet.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a rueful tone as I dab at the stain.
“It’s nothing.”
I return to the kitchen to rinse out the rag when I hear a knock on the door. Who can that be? My eyes widen. Gareth? I hurry out of the kitchen, but before I get back to the living room, Brad is already throwing the door open, much to my dismay.
“Gareth! What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same, Mortimer.”
My heart drops to my feet when I see Gareth standing at the threshold and glaring at Brad with blazing green eyes.
“Gareth,” I say when I, at last, find my voice.
The fire in his eyes is replaced by a frostiness that leaves me frozen. “I can see I’m interrupting something. My apologies. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nods at Brad and walks away.
No! No!Even though I’ve given him up for Amber’s sake, I don’t want him to think I replaced him with Brad.
“I’ll be right back, Brad.”
