Page 21 of The Shadow

When the door opens, I bolt out, slamming my office door behind me before the tears come.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I don’t have a good excuse other than life got in the way.” The growing guilt of ignoring my friends has reached a pinnacle.

“It’s okay, I get it.” Blaire’s casual, carefree attitude would usually put me at ease but not tonight. “I’m so glad that you called though becaaaause…” She draws out the last syllable in a singsong way. “We’re having everyone over this weekend and there’s no getting out of it!” she adds before I can object.

“Of course I don’t want to get out of it. I can’t wait to see you guys.” My voice cracks.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I just miss you guys and I’m so happy that you and Jules are about to join Harper in motherhood.”

We make small talk about how things have been going, mostly how her pregnancy is going since I’d rather not share about my life lately. Although, I know she would die to hear that Harvey kissed me. A flutter of excitement stirs in my lower belly at the thought.

“Anyway.” She yawns into the phone. “I won’t keep you. Jameson is downstairs making me a frozen pizza with corn and tuna on it, and I am starving.”

“Ew, corn and tuna on pizza? Please tell me that’s a pregnancy craving.”

“It is and I’m aware how nasty it is. Jimmy can barely stomach being in the same room as me when I eat it. Just wait.” She laughs when I make a gagging sound. “I didn’t even tell you what really makes it—a few nice healthy dollops of mayonnaise to dip it in.”

“That should actually be illegal.” I’m lost in laughter with Blaire when I hear the three familiar knocks on my apartment door.

I wasn’t expecting to see Harvey again after earlier. Heat blooms in my face at the memory of earlier… the way he kissed me so possessively. In that moment I wanted to believe it wasn’t possible to fake that kind of electricity. I stare at my front door, the flutter in my belly ramping up.

“On that note, I’m going to go enjoy my pizza and then hopefully some sleep.” She groans loudly on the other end from pushing herself out of bed. “See you this weekend!”

I hang up the phone, quickly turning on the camera feature to double-check I didn’t smear my mascara or have some leftover cilantro stuck in my teeth from lunch before pulling open the door.

“Hi.” The smile on my face is downright comical, I’m sure. The energy of my excitement radiating off me like I’ve been patiently waiting for him to come home to me.

“Hi.” His arm stretches overhead, resting against the doorframe as he looks down on me. He has that smile on his face again, the crooked smirk. “Mind if I come in?”

“Oh, sorry.” I step back and open the door wider for him.

“How’d it go today? After I dropped you off—any issues?”

Tell him. You can trust him.

“It was fine. I just went back to work. Wine?” I hold up a bottle, hoping to distract him.

He contemplates the offer. “Sure, but bring it over to my place.” He nods toward the door with his head. I’ve never been to his apartment. “I’m hungry and I’m guessing you haven’t hit the grocery store since our last attempt to make dinner?”

I smile sheepishly. “You got me there. Should I grab glasses?” It’s a silly question; of course he has wineglasses.

“No, I have some.” He holds his hand out toward me and at first I think he’s asking for my hand but he looks at the bottle so I hand it to him before following him out of my apartment.

I’m holding my breath, not even realizing it until I’ve crossed over the threshold of his place. My eyes are immediately drawn to the soft glow of lamplight by the front door. It’s not at all what I expected and it must be written on my face because he laughs at my expression.

“Not what you expected?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s—yeah,” I agree, joining his laughter. “I think I expected the classic bachelor pad. A chair or two, maybe a couch but no rugs or soft touches.” I run my hand along the natural edge of the beautifully handmade wooden table. There’s no stacks of dusty magazines or piles of unopened mail with a stray empty bottle piled up. It’s clean and organized. My mind flashes back to the women I’ve seen leave this apartment and it clicks.

“You can say it.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe adjacent to me, watching me take in his space.

“A woman’s touch?” My tone is casual and I hope it conveys curiosity rather than judgment.

“All me. I like my space to feel like home.” He tosses his keys into a bowl on the table and places the wine on the island.

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