Page 35 of Forged By Sacrifice

“Keep spoiling me like this and I’ll never move out,” I told her.

She smiled at me. “I’m buttering you up so you don’t move out when my obnoxious younger brother shows up.”

I’d been worried about it before, but the way she teased about it, I had a feeling it was going to be okay. After we got back to the apartment, Daniella said she was heading to the gym but would be back for dinner, and then left me alone to unpack in the loft.

I’d fallen in love with the apartment back in June, and nothing had changed in the couple weeks I had been gone. It was modern, full of metal, glass, dark floors, white cabinets, and gray walls. The kitchen was to the right as we entered, and it opened up into the main living area full of windows that had a breathtaking view of the Capitol Building.

The apartment had a gray leather couch and black tables and shelves, but none of it appeared as cold as it could have because of the colorful blankets and pillows that were scattered across the furniture. What set the living area apart from anything I’d ever seen was the huge TV that had two smaller TVs on either side of it. It was disconcerting to see all three TVs on, even if only one had the volume up. When I’d first mentioned it upon seeing the apartment back in June, Daniella had said she used it to keep abreast of what was happening on the Hill after hours.

In the loft, I opened boxes, filling the wardrobe and the built-in bookshelves that lined either side of the queen-sized bed with my books, knick-knacks from my life with Grandma, and pictures of my friends and family. I softened the metal and black furniture with my own floral prints and the purples and teals I favored. Once I’d gotten through most of the boxes, I stood, arms wrapped around my middle, and stared out the wall of windows that let in the sunshine and held the same view of the Capitol Building as the windows downstairs.

I was finally here. An excitement that I’d been holding at bay filled me. It was like I had expected something to happen at the last minute that would have prevented my new life. But it hadn’t.

I heard the apartment door click open, and Daniella hollered up the stairs that she was ordering Chinese, asking if I wanted some. I journeyed down the stairs with a smile on my face that I felt to my core.

While we waited for the food to arrive, Daniella made martinis as a way of welcoming me to the apartment and the city.

“If Robbie was here, he would be making fun of my martinis,” she said.

“Why?”

“He’s a beer drinker. I told him he’s going to have to give it up and get used to the cocktails they serve at all the receptions we go to.”

“My ex was all about wine and mixed drinks. The more expensive the better.”

“Really?” she asked.

“He’s a model.”

She grinned at me. “I can see you with a model. I can see you being a model.”

“I tried it out a couple times, but it wasn’t for me.”

“I knew it. The leather pants and peach top you were wearing the first time I met you looked like you’d stepped out of Vogue.”

“I was jealous of your suit.”

“You can have my suit. I’m so tired of wearing suits.” She placed her empty glass on the coffee table and flung her head back against the couch, pulling a pillow to her stomach.

“How long have you worked on the Hill?”

“Nine years.”

“You don’t look old enough to have worked there that long.”

She smiled at me, and her smile tugged at my memories again—so familiar and yet unplaceable. Like a dream that had flitted away before you woke.

“Thanks,” she said. “I started on the Hill as a runner when I was in college. Then, I interned during the summers. Finally got a job there because of my grandfather. Washington is nothing more than one big nepotism cesspool.”

I laughed. “Can’t really be that different than corporate America.”

“Getting your law degree, you’ll fit right in here. Everybody’s a lawyer.”

When the food arrived, she turned on The American President and made fun of all the real and not real scenarios in the movie. She was funny, and it made me like her easy nature. There was no artifice that I could tell, just her being her. Like Ava, in many ways. I was glad I’d seen her ad and that she’d liked me enough to let me move in. I hoped the feelings between her brother and me would be the same, or at least that we’d be able to stand each other long enough for me to pass the bar.

Mac

HIGH HOPES

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