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I smiled and nodded.
“Me too,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me out of the bathroom.
CHAPTER 43
My house in Radcliff was listed with a real estate agent who felt very strongly that it wouldn’t stay on the market too long. The location and price range were good indicators, she assured us.
Trey had convinced me to go to Atlanta with him. It wasn’t really that difficult of a decision once he promised me that I could work at least part-time at his law firm. Gina was ecstatic when I called to let her know.
Trey’s apartment was located on West Peachtree in mid-town Atlanta. I knew that it would take me a while to get comfortable driving in a big city. He told me not to be overly concerned; he'd gladly take me anywhere I wanted.
Hmm…being around each other 24/7 is going to be interesting.
It was dark when Trey pulled my Santa Fe into the parking garage of his apartment building. I'd been asleep for most of the drive. I awoke as soon as he cut the engine. Yawning and stretching, I looked around and spotted his Mercedes Benz Roadster in the next parking space.
Nice ride, counselor.
Trey’s apartment was a pleasant surprise. I was worried his space would be contemporary and cold, all black, glass, and chrome. Yet, this was tasteful and had a warm feel. The floor of the foyer was ceramic tile done in a Tuscan pattern; the interior walls were stucco, with high ceilings and arched doorways. The flooring in the main living room and dining room was polished hardwood covered with gorgeous Persian rugs. The living room featured a fireplace with wall art that blended in nicely with his furnishings. The color scheme was predominately warm gold, brown, and russet. Curved windows rounded like a half-moon overlooked the lit skyline of mid-town Atlanta.
“Trey, this is breathtaking,” I commented, gazing through his window over Atlanta. He stood next to me, pulling me closer.
“I’m glad you approve. I think having you here will definitely make it complete.”
“Where’s my room?” I asked innocently.
Trey laughed, pulling me close to him. “Your room is wherever I am,” he said, “understand?”
I nodded. He took my hand, leading me down a hallway that was off the living room. One of the bedrooms had been made into his study. There was a guest bedroom next to the study that had an attached bathroom and walk-in closet. Trey’s master suite was obvious because of the double wooden doors that opened into it.
“Wow,” I said as he swung open the doors, “this is huge!” He had a king-size bed that seemed almost small because of the room’s high ceilings. It was carpeted in plush hunter-green carpet with an ornately scrolled mahogany wardrobe against the wall next to the bed. There was a cozy sitting area in one corner of the room and two walk-in closets.
The master bath was even more elaborate than the one at the manor. It had a ceramic-tiled heated floor and antique light fixtures. There were marble columns on each side of the wide marble steps that led up to the sunken tub. Wall sconces created soft, romantic lighting.
“Where’s the kitchen?” I finally asked.
“It’s off the dining room as we came in. Are you hungry?”
“Maybe later,” I said, “I'd really love a bubble bath.”
“You go right ahead,” he replied, “you'll find everything you need in the bathroom.”
An hour and a half later I emerged from my soak, totally relaxed. I padded down Trey’s massive hallway in my silk PJs. He was on the phone in the study. I lingered at the doorway. He looked up and nodded for me to come in.
“Yes, I appreciate your getting back with me on a weekend, counselor. This is good news.” He rolled his chair back from the desk invitingly. I curled up in his lap as he wrapped up his call.
“Who was that on the phone?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, that was the assistant C.A. from Washington County. Everything is good to go on the plea agreement. No trial.”
I was greatly relieved. I never wanted to lay eyes on Charlie Roberts again. Trey stood me up and led me to the kitchen which was as impressive as the rest of his apartment. The floor was dark ceramic tile, the cupboards were light blond wood, the countertops were granite, and the appliances were stainless steel. A breakfast bar with a sink stood in the center.
“Have a seat, Ms. Preston. I’ll let you know what today’s specials are as soon as I figure that out,” he said, giving me a dimpled grin. Despite his humor, I could tell Trey was tired. He'd packed up my house, loaded the SUV top to bottom, and drove the whole way while I slept through the drive.
“Trey, I'd love a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“Seriously?” he asked. “That sounds good to me too.”
We ate our sandwiches at the breakfast bar and talked about my new job. He'd already called the H.R. director at the firm while I was in my bath. I was set for Monday.
