Page 75 of Dreamboat

Delia

I swing open the door to my penthouse open fully expecting to see Donovan standing there even though he left no more than five minutes ago.

It’s not him.

It’s Mr. Winters. His gaze trails over my messy hair to my inside out T-shirt before it lands on the book in my hands.

“Delia,” he says with nothing but amusement in his tone. “Good morning to you.”

It is a good morning. It may very well be the best morning of my life.

“Hi, Mr. Winters.” I greet him with a smile, thankful that I took the extra time to tug on a pair of jeans before I bid Donovan goodbye.

I almost didn’t take that extra step but he kept tugging at the waistband of my panties in an effort to get back into bed.

I almost relented but I had to remind myself, and him, that he has a job to get to. He took off out of here after giving me one last kiss.

After we made love very early this morning, I read him two chapters of the book in my hands. He wanted more but I was exhausted, and as I drifted off to sleep, he jokingly told me that he was going to borrow the book unless I gave him a kiss.

I tried, but my lips were as exhausted as the rest of me.

“I brought you something.” My neighbor holds up a brown paper bag that is stamped with the logo from my favorite bagel shop.

It’s less than a block away and I’m convinced that I can smell them baking some mornings when the breeze is just right and I have my windows open.

Not wanting to appear rude, even though I’m still short on sleep, I motion toward my foyer. “Please come in.”

He does, never taking his gaze from my face. “You still have that glow, Delia.”

I can’t help but smile because that glow comes courtesy of all the good things in my life, including the baby.

“You look great today, too,” I say in reply to his compliment.

“I am great.” He places the bagel bag on the foyer table. “I just saw someone I haven’t seen in years. He was leaving our building as I was coming back from getting our breakfast.”

Mr. Winters hasn’t owned a pet in the time that I’ve been living here, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not talking about Donovan. People meet in the most unlikely places in this city.

“Maybe he was leaving your apartment,” he adds with a wink. “He’s a tall fellow. He has dark hair and what I think girls your age would call dreamboat eyes.”

He just described my lover to a T, but I only smile.

“He was in a rush.” He shakes his head, as he goes on, “And on the phone, so I didn’t get a chance to say hello to Victor.”

“Victor?” I ask, surprised that he didn’t say Donovan.

Just by the physical description alone, I was certain that he was talking about the man I spent the majority of my night with; the same man that I’ll share a child with in roughly seven and a half months.

He nods. “I met him when I was living in Indianapolis years ago. Victor waited tables at my favorite bistro. I always told him to come to New York because the restaurant scene here is second to none, but he told me Indianapolis was in his blood and he’d never leave.”

“Maybe he’s here visiting a friend?” I offer even though it’s quite a coincidence that a man he knows from another city would be in Manhattan visiting someone in our building.

The world is a small place, though.

“Or maybe somewhere along the way, he took my advice and he was bitten by the New York bug. Once you’ve lived here for a time, it’s hard to leave this city behind.”

It’s true.

I’ve considered uprooting my life twice. Once was when I was with Aiden. I thought my dream of our Paris love affair would become the reality that would span my lifetime but it turned into a nightmare when he dumped me like a coward.

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