together something for us for lunch. I didn’t have to, but I liked to. And at night, I’d order in takeout or sometimes I’d cook dinner. Sometimes he cooked dinner, too. He was actually a pretty good cook.
I supposed he had to be, living alone for so long.
In the evenings, we usually had sex. And sometimes we had sex in the morning or afternoon, too.
Afterwards, Cary would go back to work. He was dedicated and focused like that.
It was impressive.
In the evenings, I’d go do my laundry, talk to friends. Or I’d head down to the animal shelter and put in some time, take the dogs for walks, help clean out kennels. At least a few nights a week I’d go for a jog, and sometimes, like this evening, he’d join me. Or I’d do some yoga in the backyard to an online video on my laptop, or swim in the pool. Cary sometimes came out for a bit to sit by the pool or swim with me. Most of the time he seemed distracted at night, until he got enough work done to feel satisfied. He said he was most creative in the evening and he liked to lose himself in work.
But he seemed to want to be here with me, too.
Eventually, we’d meet up in his bed in the studio or in my bed in the poolhouse, or on the living room couch. But he never took me to his bedroom upstairs.
I wondered if he’d be in bed when I got home from ladies’ night tonight. Or if he’d just stay up working until I came home.
I liked that he’d be here, waiting for me. It was nice having a boyfriend.
Okay. Yeah. I’d admit it to myself.
My boss was now my boyfriend.
When I was all ready for ladies’ night, I grabbed my purse and headed into the house to say goodbye. As I walked into the foyer, I found the studio doors open, as usual. I could hear water running faintly in the studio bathroom; he was still in the shower.
Which meant I had a little time to kill.
I glanced up the stairs to the second floor, and it didn’t take long to decide to go up. I figured I would at some point. I’d hoped he’d ask me up. But there didn’t seem any harm in taking a look around. He rarely seemed to come up here, but Rose kept it tidy like the rest of the house.
I peeked into a couple of bedrooms down one hall. The biggest one was white and clearly decorated for a girl. Lacy bedspread and curtains. There was a photo of Courteney and a couple of other girls, friends of hers I’d met, stuck on the mirror over the dresser. This must’ve been the room she used when she visited her brother and stayed in the house rather than the poolhouse. I knew she’d done that sometimes.
I’d heard him call her cupcake. It was obvious that he adored her.
Yet she seemed so unable to reach him. It was clear to me by now that he didn’t talk to her all that much.
I went up the other hall and I found the master bedroom. It was huge, with a king-sized bed and simple, luxurious decor in shades of dark gray, black and white. There was a fireplace and a walk-through closet leading into the bathroom.
I didn’t linger.
It just seemed like a shame he didn’t use it. That his world had gotten so small, he barely even used his whole house and yard.
As I headed back down the stairs, I paused to look at the framed photos of Cary’s family and friends on the wall over the stairs. He still had people in his life who clearly cared about him. Not only his sister, but Xander, too, for sure.
Merritt checked in with him regularly from Little Black Hole, and it was obvious it wasn’t just because of her duty to her job. She seemed to genuinely care about Cary and check in out of concern, just making sure he was okay.
Trey had checked in, too, a couple of times that I knew of, since our meeting at Brick House. He called Cary brother. He seemed really nice, and like he cared about Cary, despite the friction Cary gave him in the meeting.
Cary’s former lead singer, Dean, had dropped by a few days ago, and just like Cary said he would, he’d scaled the fence and let himself in. I’d run into him in