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“I can’t believe they’re letting us stay here. I mean you, sure. You’re their friend. But they don’t know me at all.”
“Any friend of mine is a friend of theirs, as far as Sawyer and Alastair are concerned,” he said.
“They sound nice.”
“They really are. They’re both very open and trusting, almost to a fault. That’s why Roger is so important to them. He’s overly cautious, which is exactly what they need.”
“I can imagine. Rich people must be magnets for all kinds of scammers and con artists.”
“Exactly.” After a minute, he leaned into me and said, “Roger’s leaving soon, so come with me to say goodbye.”
We joined his ex in the pristine kitchen, which was white and stainless steel and looked like a display in a designer showroom. At one end of the room was a huge, shiny machine, and after a moment I realized it was the kind of professional, high-end espresso maker you’d usually find in a restaurant or coffee house. I really hoped there was a Mr. Coffee or something hidden away in a cupboard, because my chances of brewing anything on that beast were pretty much nonexistent.
Roger was drinking tea and reading something on the screen of a thin laptop, which he closed when we approached. Now that I got a look at him in better lighting, I saw he was probably in his early thirties, and his brown hair was buzzed off in a cut chosen for ease, not style. He had a square jaw, and there was a scar on his right cheek, which could have made him seem like a tough guy. But there was also an unmistakable spark of amusement in his eyes, which made him seem more like an overgrown boy.
He turned to me with a smirk and asked, with an accent that was more chimney sweep than Mary Poppins, “Recovered from the shock, ‘ave you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone’s mouth literally fall open from surprise before. Made you look like one of those inflatable sex dolls.” He opened his mouth in a wide oval to demonstrate, then laughed at his own joke.
Gabriel put two mugs on the kitchen island and playfully slapped Roger’s huge bicep. “Don’t tease, Ro. You know this apartment is ridiculously nice, so who wouldn’t be impressed by it?”
I sat down across the kitchen island from Roger and frowned at the easy rapport between the two of them. They laughed and teased each other as Gabriel dropped teabags into the mugs and added hot water. Then he put a cup in front of me with a spoon and a bowl of sugar cubes. I’d never actually seen a sugar cube before, but it was pretty far down the list of things to gawk at in this place.
Roger said, “Before I forget, here are a couple of numbers for you.” He slid a neatly printed notecard over to Gabriel. “At the top is the car service I use. I put your name on my account, so if you need a lift and I’m not around to drive you, call that number. I took the liberty of stocking the fridge and pantry so you’ll be set for a while, but the next number is for a local market that delivers. Your name’s on that account, too.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him taking care of Gabriel was my job, not his. Fortunately, Gabriel handled it for me by sliding the card back to Roger and saying, “I appreciate it, Ro. I really do. But I can handle this stuff myself.”
Roger tried to look repentant. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
Gabriel said, “Let me know how much I owe you for the groceries you bought, and I’ll go by an ATM tomorrow.”
“There’s not a chance in hell of me taking your money, love, so consider it a gift.” Roger finished his tea, got up, and put his cup in the dishwasher. Then he picked up his laptop and tucked it under his arm as he said, “I’ll let you get some rest, since you must be knackered after your drive. Call me tomorrow.” He turned to me and added, “Pleasure to meet you, Riley. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.” I couldn’t help but notice he left the notecard on the counter.
Gabriel walked him out. When he returned to the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he said, “He means well, but he tends to overdo the whole caretaker thing. Part of the reason we didn’t last as a couple is because Roger was always treating me like a child, and I got tired of him acting like I couldn’t do anything for myself. You just got a little taste of that with the groceries and the car service.”
“If I had as much money as Roger, I’d fuck up in exactly the same way,” I admitted. “I wish to God I had the means to make sure you always had a full refrigerator and a car and driver to safely take you anywhere you wanted to go.”
