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Millie comes out from behind the reception desk. “Bradford, it’s been lovely having you. You’ve been a wonderful guest.” She hugs him. “Come back soon, alright?”
“I will,” he promises.
She turns towards me. “Take care of him,” Millie tells me. “Take care of each other.”
“I will,” I say as Millie hugs me, too.
We walk to the car in silence. Bradford puts his suitcase in the trunk next to mine, and we get in. “Are you ready for this?” Bradford asks, his hand on top of mine.
I look around, at the sunny day and the bustling square. At Emily’s diner, and the B&B, and all of the other places that have become more familiar than I ever expected when I first entered this town, embarrassed and fuming, not that long ago.
Then I think about what lies ahead, what Bradford and I are about to do together.
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing a bittersweet lump in my throat and putting my foot on the gas. “Let’s go.”
25
BRADFORD
Ragnar’s condo is huge. It’s the penthouse unit in a large building, with four bedrooms, six bathrooms, a massive kitchen and an even larger living space. There’s also Ragnar’s office, a dark room full of heavy wood furniture.
The rest of the condo is decorated in classic bachelor style. The couches are black and leather, the beds are enormous and covered in white sheets, comforters, and pillows, and the kitchen has all of the latest appliances and absolutely nothing in the fridge and only vodka in the freezer.
“Wow,” I say after Ragnar finishes giving me the tour. “This is a lot,” I say as neutrally as possible.
But Ragnar isn’t fooled. “You hate it,” he says.
“No!” I protest, sitting down on one of the couches. “It’s just a little sterile. It looks like a show home, not a place where someone lives.”
“I haven’t lived here for a while,” Ragnar reminds me. “I’ve been in Green Haven.”
“I know, but when did you move into this place?”
“About six years ago.”
“And it never occurred to you to put some art on the walls, or get some throw pillows for the couches, or even put some photos on your desk?”
Ragnar shrugs. “I hired a decorator and told her that I don’t like clutter.”
“Neither do I, but this is like living in some weird cross between a hospital and office.”
“Well, you have my permission to decorate as you see fit,” Ragnar says.
I smirk. “Oh, your permission? Why, thank you.”
Ragnar grins back and moves closer to me. “You’re very welcome.”
He kisses me, and as we lay back on the couch, I am grudgingly impressed by how wide and comfortable this piece of furniture is.
The next morning, Ragnar is gone before I wake up. I find a note on my table:Had to go in early. I should be back by 8. Make yourself at home!So I decide to do just that. I shower and dress, and then leave the condo to explore the neighborhood.
I’m pretty familiar with Atlanta, but I’ve never spent much time in this area of town. It always struck me as soulless and corporate, and I’m discouraged to find that my first impression was correct. I do find a decent café a few blocks from the condo, though, and my mood improves once I have some caffeine in my system.
I spend the rest of the day in the parts of town that are more my style, picking up some items for the condo and also taking pictures of anything that looks interesting. When I get home it’s almost eight p.m and I’m excited to show Ragnar what I’ve chosen, and to share stories about our days.
But eight o’clock comes and goes … and so does eight-thirty … and nine o’clock. At nine-thirty I give up waiting and order in some takeout. I’m still alone when the food arrives thirty minutes later, and when I finally go to bed close to eleven, Ragnar still isn’t home.
He’s gone the next morning when I get up, again. A new note this time:I’m so sorry about last night. The office is a fucking shitshow and I didn’t get home until after midnight. I’ll see you tonight, I promise.
