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—:—
Snow? Truly? It was the beginning of December, and not just snow, a blizzard. It was a miracle Mario had been able to get to the airport at all. The ride from there to the apartment building had been harrowing, which reminded me of Emerson and how she’d said she wouldn’t ride in any car with the man we’d referred to as Mario Andretti. I smiled at the memory.
I reached over the seat, handed him some cash, and shook his hand. “Thank you for coming out in a snowstorm to get me here.”
“Let me know when you need me again, Mr. Edgemon. Always happy to drive you anywhere you need to go.”
“Call me Lynx, and I appreciate it.” I got out of the car and grabbed my bag. Instead of going straight inside, I stood at the building’s entrance, remembering the first day I set foot in it and found the woman I’d been looking for, dreaming about, yet never dreaming I’d actually find. What I’d give to see Emerson’s beautiful face walking out as I walked in again.
“Mr. Edgemon,” I heard a familiar voice say once I stepped inside the lobby. “Welcome back.”
“Mr. Bridges,” I answered, walking over to shake his hand. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Saint completed the paperwork you requested. Let me get it for you.”
While I waited for him to retrieve the lease transfer and extension, I thought again about whether my hanging onto the apartment was folly.
“Here it is,” he said, handing me the envelope. “And let me be the first to officially welcome you to the building.”
“Thanks,” I said, holding up the envelope, “for this too.”
He stood in the doorway of his office while I waited for the lift. “Was there anything else, Mr. Bridges?”
“Call me Baxter, and no, not really.” He shook his head, went into his office, and closed the door behind him.
I rode the lift to the eighth floor, toying with knocking on Emerson’s door before dropping my bag at Saint’s—my—apartment. Given it was after nine, it would probably be best to wait until tomorrow.
When the lift’s door opened, I heard a man’s voice coming from the direction of Emerson’s apartment. “I love you, too,” he said, closing her door behind him.
“Hi,” he said when he saw me staring. “Can I help you with something?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m David,” he said, chuckling. “Who are you?”
I heard Emerson’s door open and held my breath. Had she really found someone already? Someone who loved her too?
“You forgot your hat,” I heard a familiar voice say. “Oh, Lennox, hi,” said Rashid, handing the hat to the man I now guessed was his boyfriend. I held the door of the lift open as they kissed goodbye.
“Nice to meet you, Lennox,” said David, as he stepped inside.
“Um, Rashid,” I said as he walked back to the apartment.
“Yes?”
“Is Emerson at home?”
He cocked his head. “I’m confused.”
“Emerson,” I pointed at the door. “Her apartment?”
“Emme doesn’t live here anymore. David and I sublet the place from her.”
32
EMERSON
“Professor Charles?”
