“Fine,” he conceded. “No cops, but you are staying with me for a couple of days to err on the side of caution.”
“You want me to stay with you?”
“Yes.”
He must be insane. We hadn’t known each other nearly long enough to begin co-habituating. Doesn’t matter if a death threat loomed over my head. This knight in shining armor act had to stop.
“No way, José. Thank you for taking me home last night, staying over, and making me coffee this morning but that’s as far as your generosity will go. You have done more than enough,” I said.
“I told you that I wanted to get to know you, whatever that entails.”
“Yes, but did you really think that meant stolen money and drug dealers? No, so let’s strike a deal. I’ll stay here and you stay in your apartment and we will meet once a week for coffee. That way you know I’m still alive and you have done your civic duty.”
Andrew snatched my mug. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
“Because I don’t need help.”
He let out a snort as he walked into the kitchen. Returning, he slammed a brand new cup of coffee in front of me. Brown liquid sloshed onto the dining room table. I jumped up and grabbed a wad of paper towels.
“I would appreciate if you left my furniture out of this,” I said.
Andrew mumbled a string of intelligible words. He slumped into his seat, chin tucked into his chest, arms crossed and pouted like a child. Whenever a bad mood struck, a plate of poor man’s chocolate croissants always cheered me up. It was Wonder Bread smeared with butter and two pieces of chocolate stuffed in between. Thanks to my mom, I could write a recipe book centered on bread.
“I know what you need,” I said.
“A woman who doesn’t fight me on EVERYTHING?”
I pointed my index finger at him. “Hey buddy, I said you could leave.”
“Meeting you once a week at a coffee shop is a terrible idea. I have an extra room in my loft and ninety-nine percent of my time is spent at my art studio downstairs. You would hardly see me.”
“Then why would I stay with you if that is the case?”
“Because it’s safer there then here. You said this Big Ted isn’t dangerous but according to the note, he held a knife to Sumiko’s throat. I think you’re being naïve. Please, it’s just for a few days.”
Andrew seemed like a standup guy. He was also brilliant, kind and caused butterflies to erupt in my stomach whenever a smile lit up his handsome face. I wanted to trust him. I really truly did but trust doesn’t come easy. As soon as my guard vanished, my true self would be on display. What if he hated the real me? Or most likely, what if everything became too much and he left? There were too many factors left to chance.
Andrew reached across the table and grabbed my hand. I stared at our entwined fingers. His, calloused and stained with color. Mine, nails bitten to the quick and scarred. We had lived two parallel existences yet somehow fate brought us together. Staying with Andrew wouldn’t be the end of the world. It was only for a few days and as long as my panties stayed on, there shouldn’t be any problems unless he was a pack rat.
“Are you a clean and orderly person?” I wondered.
“Is that your way of saying yes?”
“Answer the question first.”
Laughing, he squeezed my palm assuredly. “Yes, I’m clean. I’m also a fabulous cook.”
“And so modest.”
“Trust me, modesty doesn’t come into play when you try my famous spaghetti and meatballs. Now go pack. My driver will be here in five minutes.”
I felt as if I’d woken up into a fairy tale—like Cinderella being invited to the Prince’s castle… if Cinderella worked as a barista/shot girl and had a drug addicted mother.
Andrew’s loft didn’t match the picture I’d painted in my head. Instead of overflowing with books, it was clean, organized, and open. Old factory windows looked out upon a set of trees, branches bare and glittering with frost. Exposed wooden beams ran the length of the ceiling stained a rich mocha. The faded mural on the brick wall in the living room spoke to a past long forgotten. A black iron spiral staircase wound up to the second story.
He came up behind me. “What do you think? Can you live here for a couple of days?”
“I can manage.”
Although I sounded nonchalant, my body wanted to break into a happy dance. Andrew’s home was straight out of the architect digest magazines I used to covet. A whole stack of them sat in my closet along with National Geographic magazines. As a child, they’d given me hope beauty resided in the world.
Andrew dropped my duffle bag on the floor. “Do you want a tour?”
“Sure or else I might get lost.”
“Its only thirteen hundred square feet. Not big enough to get lost in.” He paused thoughtfully. “Unless you’re drunk.”
“It sounds like that has happened to you before.”
“Once or twice.”
He didn’t elaborate further, which led me to believe Andrew’s background wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns. I recognized the darkness that flittered across his gaze. He drank because he wanted to forget, not for enjoyment. Great. Two broken people living in the same space. That sounded like a recipe for success.
Andrew beckoned me to follow him. We entered a long narrow corridor lined with black and white prints, stunning in their simplicity. Waves crashing against a rocky shore, an over the shoulder shot of a surfer, and a flash of lighting cracking the sky wide open. My footsteps came to resounding halt.
“Who did these?” I asked in awe.
“My buddy Mathew took those. He’s an incredible photographer.”
Relief he didn’t add photographer to his lengthy list of talents coursed through me. Andrew already had enough brilliance in his right pinky toe than my hands and feet combined.
“Does he sell them?” I longed to own a print for my apartment, although Mathew’s work probably fetched prices out of my range. It didn’t hurt to dream.
“No, he doesn’t. By day he is a computer programmer and does this as a hobby. He doesn’t want to share his talent with the word. According to Matthew, it’s one thing that is solely his and his alone.”
“A little melodramatic is he?”
Andrew drew closer. Pure male exuded out of his pores, raw and primal. My skin heated as his crotch pressed against my behind. A smile could be heard in his voice when he spoke. “He has five kids and a wife. They run him ragged but he secretly loves it.”
“Do you want that?” I whispered. “A family to call your own?”
Andrew’s lips brushed against my ear, sending my pulse to skyrocket. I waited with bated breath for an answer I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear.
“I thought I did once but not anymore.” My shoulders sagged with relief. Andrew chuckled. “I’m guessing we are on the same page.”
This was an oddly intimate conversation to have facing the wall. I spun around and immediately second-guessed my decision. The air in the room grew thick with sexual chemistry as I fought against his magnetic pull. Alarms blared in my head. Roommates with benefits weren’t part of the package. Obviously, Andrew didn’t get that memo though. Captivated by his eyes as clear as a reflecting pool, he brushed a lock of hair from my face.
“When I look at you, I see color. Oranges, pinks, turquoise, and deep purples. You’re Technicolor amongst an otherwise bland world.”
My breath snagged in my throat. “No I’m not. I’m grays, black, and muted beige.”
“One day you’ll see how I see you and that day will be the greatest day of my life because then you’ll know you’re worth more than gold.”
His words poked at a raw and vulnerable place hidden amongst the scars. I acted self confident and assured, but it was a ruse. How did Andrew know that? My eyes fell to the floor.