“That’s not true.” Sophia gives me a meaningful look. Raises her brows and mouths, Brooks.
My head shakes. No, I mouth back.
Tell her, Sophia insists. She’s going to find out eventually.
There is nothing to tell! I want to shout, because it’s the truth. WE ARE JUST FRIENDS.
Sophia’s palm hits the table. Stop it.
I scrunch up my face. No, you stop it!
“So, Abbott met a nice young man in her apartment building and they’ve been spending some time together, Nan.”
Nan perks up, a pâté sandwich paused halfway to her lips. She returns it to her plate, removes the white linen napkin from her lap, and dabs at the corner of her mouth.
“A young man?”
I groan. “Thanks a lot, Sophia.”
My best friend smiles happily and sets to stuffing tiny finger foods into her traitorous mouth.
Rude.
“There is no young man, Nan. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“But you have met someone?”
“No. It’s just some guy who lives in my building—nothing more, nothing less.”
“But he does live in your building.” Semantics are not lost on Nan—she has a penchant for details and parsing out specifics.
“Lots of people live in my building, and some of them are male.”
“Abbott Margolis, don’t get cheeky.”
“I’m not!” I say to her. Then to Sophia, I hiss, “This is all your fault.”
Sophia shrugs, chomping on a miniscule slice of cheesecake. If anyone loves these little high teas more than me, it’s my friend. She will drop everything to sip champagne and eat dessert, no matter the day of the week or the time of day.
“Does this neighbor have a name?”
“No.” The last thing I need is my grandmother catching wind of any form of a relationship between Brooks and me. She’d latch on and start digging, drawing conclusions she has no business drawing since he and I only just met.
“His name is Brooks,” Sophia says at the same exact time I deny Nan the information, and I groan. Damn her, she always does this!
“Brooks, hmm?” Nan sips her tea, the innocent expression on her face anything but innocuous, the wheels in her crafty brain no doubt spinning.
Nan cannot stay out of anyone’s business; her business is meddling.
“Is he on your floor, or just in the same building?”
“I’m not sure.”
Nan studies me above the rim of a champagne flute she’s just lifted from the table, grasping the stem with two manicured fingers.
Narrows her steel gray eyes. “I don’t know why you’re being so tightlipped—it’s not like I have any vested interest in the matter.” She purses her lips and takes a sip of bubbly.
“If there was something to tell, I would tell you. Brooks and I are just friends—that’s it.”
My best friend gives my shin a swift kick and I flinch, my grandmother pretending not to notice any of our halted actions—but the truth is, she has noticed everything, and she isn’t going to let this go.
9
Brooks
Abbott: Hey buddy. Quick question.
The text from my perky little neighbor comes first thing in the morning, on a Monday, my phone pinging on my desk as I drag a technical pencil along a giant sheet of drafting paper. Long, straight lines that will someday be an exterior wall are truly a thing of beauty.
I stare at the text, reading it again, the reason she nagged for my phone number last night now about to become clear.
Buddy? What the hell?
Granted, she’s my neighbor—not really a friend, though if I had to guess, I’d say we’re headed in that direction. Still. Being called buddy stings just a little, as if she doesn’t think I’m sexy and doesn’t want to bang me. No girl calls a guy bud or dude unless they are friend-zoning him.
Me: What’s up, bro?
I chuckle at that and wish I could see her face to gauge her reaction.
Abbott: I’ll be gone the entire day today and have late dinner plans, so I have no idea when I’ll be home. I put out enough food for Desi to graze, but if you could check on her to see if her water is clean, I’d be forever grateful.
Abbott: She’s been an asshole the last few days, tipping the bowl over.
Me: The cat is an asshole? Shocker.
Me: I’d love to help you out, but how do you expect me to get into your apartment? I might be a magician, but I have no experience with breaking and entering. This isn’t Harry Potter—I can’t just walk through walls.
Abbott: INCIDENTALLY, I left you a key at the front desk…on the off chance you were available to