Winter came to New York early. The wind was bitingly cold, the first snow hit before Thanksgiving, and the sewers rose with steam because the air above ground was so dry. I hardly left the building because I was usually in my office collecting deliveries before I went to see my clients. But sometimes I did grocery runs, and when I did that, I was so grateful I didn’t have to walk several blocks to my old apartment.
Now, I just went upstairs.
I was sitting in the office finishing an email when Matt took a seat at his desk. “Are you living with Deacon now?”
A rock the size of an asteroid had been lifted off my shoulders when I didn’t have to lie anymore. Deacon wasn’t a dirty secret I had to hide to save my ass. I could tell everyone we were together, that we would stay together. “No. I’m just staying with him until I find an apartment.”
“Can you go back to an apartment after living in a luxury residence?” he asked with a chuckle.
It wasn’t the residence I was so fond of, but the man who lived in it. “It’ll be rough…that’s for sure.”
“I can’t believe you were together right under our noses and no one noticed.”
I shrugged. “It’s a big building with a lot of clients…and no one would suspect I would do something like that.”
“Well, I wish the same rules applied to me, because there’re some pretty sexy ladies who live here.” He winked.
“I doubt Mr. Kline would mind, honestly.” If I was going to do it, what did it matter if other people did it? As long as they weren’t adulterous affairs.
“Shelly Vancouver is awfully nice to me…”
“The supermodel?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“What? You think I couldn’t get her?”
“No. I just think she’s…a little ditzy for you. You’re very intelligent, Matt.”
He shrugged. “Intelligent men don’t want intelligent women. They want sexy women. Look at Deacon. He’s a genius, and you’re easy on the eyes.”
I definitely wasn’t a genius, but I still knew his love was more than skin-deep. But I didn’t tell Matt that. “Fair enough.”
“So, have you actually been looking for an apartment?”
“I’ve been dragging my feet a little…”
He laughed. “Maybe if you drag your feet long enough, he’ll just let you live with him.”
If I had it my way, I would never leave. It would be my home forever. “That’s not how I want it to be. I’ll move out, and maybe someday, he’ll ask me to move back in.”
When I entered the residence, he wasn’t home yet, even though it was pretty late. I texted him. Everything alright?
Just got held up. I’ll be there soon.
My things were still in the spare bedroom because I wasn’t so presumptuous as to move them. He didn’t want me to leave his bedroom last night, but that message was still unclear. Had he meant that indefinitely or just that evening?
I poured a glass of wine and opened the fridge.
He had his fresh meats and his veggies set up and ready to go because he washed his vegetables after they were delivered. I wasn’t a skilled chef like he was, but I wanted to cook for him, so it was one less thing he had to do when he came home. So, I pulled up a quick recipe for the salmon and got to work while sipping my wine.
It wasn’t too hard.
By the time I was done, he came home.
In the gray suit tailored to his muscular body, he moved inside, his satchel over his shoulder. He hated wearing suits and ties, which was unfortunate because he looked so incredible when he wore them. He carried his satchel to the dining table and immediately loosened his tie.
I watched him before I scooped the fish and veggies onto the plate, recognizing the tightness of his jawline, the fatigue in his eyes. It’d been a long day at the office, and he was clearly irritable.
I carried the plates to the dining table and set them down. “Okay, I know it won’t be as good as yours, but I’m sure it’s edible.”
He stared at the plate as he pushed his jacket over his shoulders and let it fall down his arms. He tossed it over the other chair before his fingers went to the buttons of his collared shirt, popping each one as he looked down at the plate. “You cooked dinner?”