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“Why?” He strolled over to the couch, and it was only now I noticed he’d ditched his shoes, tie, and coat. His checkered button-down was rolled up to his elbows, and I didn’t know if I’d ever noticed his forearms before. Or the indentation of his collarbone, which peeked out at the top of his shirt.
“Why what?” I asked, blinking away from his throat as he plopped down on the couch.
“Why do you need to be home by yourself?”
I swiveled my head side to side, searching for a hidden camera. I didn’t know what game he was trying to play, but he wasn’t going to win. “Why do you insist on being here? I didn’t ask you to do this.”
“I know, but I’m not leaving you to go through this alone. I shouldn’t be the one to be here, but…” He lifted his arms, eyes wide, as if to say there was no one else, and my skin heated.
“I have people,” I snapped, striding over to him, kicking his foot so he’d stop manspreading. His knees knocked back open. And the asshole set his arms out on either side of him on the back of the cushions like it washisfucking couch.
“Why aren’t they here?”
I hated him. I hated him so goddam much for not only making me say this out loud but for everything else I had divulged to him today. “Because I don’t want them to be here! I can’t let them…” I swallowed the lump in my throat and shoved the heels of my hands into my eyes until my vision cleared. “I don’t want them to know.”
“To know what? That you’re not perfect?” He snorted and typed out something on his cell phone. “No one is perfect, Novak. Not even you. Now sit down and eat.”
I followed his direction but slapped at his thigh as I sat on the floor. “Get your disgusting feet off my coffee table.”
He heaved out a sigh, placing his feet back on the floor.
“I helped myself to a sandwich,” he said after I swallowed my first spoonful of chicken noodle soup.
“A sandwich?”
“Yeah, something people make, usually with two pieces of bread and meat, although some people like to add vegetables or—”
I thumped him with the side of my fist, and he laughed. A genuine laugh. It was nice.
I hated that too.
“Google also says to take some pain relievers.” He pointed to the two small pills next to a glass of water.
“Did Google also say to make yourself at home inmyapartment?”
“No, that was my idea.” And to prove it, he shifted, nestling down farther into the couch, then reached for an open soda can. “You need to get some coasters in here. You’ve got rings on the tables.” He lifted the small wooden side table. It was barely big enough for maybe two drinks and a candle, and the surface was covered in multiple ring stains. “See?”
I shrugged. “Furniture is meant to be used.”
His lip curled in disgust as he set the tiny table back down. “When was the last time you cleaned your car?”
I swallowed down the pills. “Last year sometime.”
“I knew it,” he mumbled. “I didn’t want to say anything before because I’m a gentleman, but your back seat is gross. And the floor?” He pretended to gag. “There was a green stain.”
“That was a Shamrock Shake.”
“From last March?” He slapped his forehead. “Jesus, Novak, that’s disgusting.”
“It’s my car. I don’t care what you think of it.”
“You should, though,” he said, thrusting his hand out in my direction. “You spent money on it. Or do you not care because you have so much of it? You can go buy a new one whenever you want.”
“Don’t act as if you don’t also come from money. You’re not some street urchin begging Scrooge for money.”
He shook his head. “Scrooge would treat his possessions with a little more respect.”
I swallowed some soup then stuck the spoon in the air. “Funny that you speak of respect when you’re not respecting my wishes for you to leave.”
