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When I walked into my apartment, it seemed so small and sad compared to the penthouse. From the doorway, I could see the entirety of the galley kitchen, the small living room that felt cramped with just my couch, coffee table, and television, and the hallway to my bedroom.
Worst of all, everything I’d done to make it homey looked like a pathetic attempt, as if I were seeing it through their eyes. The Dollar Store lights I’d strung so carefully around the ceiling; the power always dimmed when I plugged them in at night. The Target dollar spot kitchen towels, hung neatly from the oven handle, that declaredIt’s Fall, Y’all.The threadbare couch covered with a blanket.
Did they see me as pathetic?
After all, I’d slept in their beds, even though for weeks, they’d treated me like a pariah. For a few moments though, it had felt as if getting to know them was key to unlocking my memories.
And for a few minutes, it had felt nice…
I did my best to shake it off, focusing on dragging my laundry down to the apartment building’s laundromat and getting it started. I babysat my laundry until it had made it through the dryer—there was a creepy old man on the fourth floor that I was pretty sure had stolen my underwear before—while I read my romance novel.
But as much as I loved a good book, it was hard to get lost in that fantasy when my mind kept returning tothem.
I’d just staggered to my room with the laundry basket and dropped it on my bed when someone knocked on the door.
I wiped sweat off my forehead—the laundry room was so hot and humid—before I checked the peep hole.
Handsome face, even with a bruise marring one high cheekbone and a split across his kissable lips. Dark hair, artfully mussed. And big shoulders in a jacket, clutching a new bouquet of tiger lilies.
I should pretend I wasn’t here.
His icy blue eyes seemed to stare right through the peephole and reach me, and I felt myself freeze, as if he could see right through and know I was there. I turned and tried to tiptoe away across the apartment.
“Kennedy.” His voice was soft but stern, and it carried through the door. It felt like his voice went straight to my heart. “Please talk to me. Don’t assume what I am because of what someone else said.”
I hesitated for a few long seconds.
Then I pulled the door open. His face relaxed when he saw me, a smile breaking across his lips. He was so handsome it made me want to melt.
“I’m not assuming based on what someone else said,” I told him, reminding myself as much as I was reminding him. “I’m assuming because of whatyousaid.”
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” A playful smile crossed his lips, as if even if I’d run away from him before, he knew our future was inevitable. All his stress seemed to have melted away the second I opened the door. “Somewhere public?”
My gaze flickered down to the bouquet he held in one hand.
He raised them, holding them toward me. “I thought you might need a new bouquet.”
“No one needs flowers.”
“I disagree. As far as I’m concerned, Kennedy, anything you want is a need… and anything you need, I’m going to make yours.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’re a little creepy and overbearing.”
He smiled back at me, without a trace of apology or regret. “Or…Possessive and protective?”
“It sounds better.” I hesitated, then told him, “Wait here.”
I closed the door on him, curious if some dangerous mafia guy who could obviously more than hold his own in a fight would really just wait in the hall for me. So I took my time, pulling out the big mason jar I used as a flower vase or cookie jar, depending on circumstances, trimming the stems, and arranging my flowers.
When I set them on the coffee table, I had to admit, they made the room look a whole lot nicer.
I swung the door open again, expecting he might be gone. For a second, the hallway seemed empty, and my heart dropped.
Well. I hadn’t expected to feel so completely deflated.
I shouldn’t trust him anyway. I should be glad he’d lost interest.
Shouldn’t I?
