Page 32 of That First Flight

“No way.” She shakes her head, fighting back a yawn. “We’re in the city that never sleeps.”

As we grab our bags and head toward the elevator to the apartment, Mackenzie yawns at least a dozen more times. But my mind can’t stop thinking about how she just so casually let someone she barely knows call her a nickname that she hates.

While confusion continues to swirl, a smile of relief crosses my lips.

She’s comfortable with him. She’s excited for this and she trusts him. Kids are the best judge of character, after all.

Once the elevator doors open, anything I did want to say is gone. Poof.

This place is massive. This isn’t an apartment. This is a house stuck inside a skyscraper. That’s the only way to really describe it.

I step into the entryway as I scan the room and take it all in. There’s a living room with an oversized sectional sofa, as well as a loveseat off to the side. A massive television hangs over the electric fireplace built into the wall. I take a few more steps in, and then quickly falter as the kitchen comes into view.

If I had any dream for a home that would be all mine, it would include this kitchen. There is a panoramic window that overlooks Central Park covering the stretch of the kitchen counters with the sink sitting right in the middle of it all. Parallel to that counter is an oversized island completely clear and begging to be cooked on.

“This kitchen…” I release my shaky breath as I say it.

“It’s pretty bare,” Oliver says, walking up behind me.

“It’s… perfect.”

“I’ll have it stocked for you tomorrow.” He rounds the kitchen island. Standing across from me, Oliver places both hands on the counter to hold up his body weight. His muscular arms showcase his forearm veins with the weight and I can’t help but stare.

“Are you ready to see the rest of the place?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I nod.

He shows me the two hallways on each side of the living space. One leads to the master bedroom where he stays. On the opposite side of the apartment, closest to the kitchen, a hallway leads to three bedrooms.

It almost makes me feel relieved that we have our own space separate from him because my nerves are already heightened at the thought of living with someone who has a weird effect on my body when he’s around.

But for some reason, my gut trusts Oliver as if I’ve known him my entire life.

Mackenzie hurries past me and finds a queen size bed in one of the rooms. Claiming it as hers almost instantly.

“You know, that's the one I was going to suggest for you,” Oliver says.

“You have good taste, Ollie,” she says. “This bed is ginormous and so comfortable. I feel like a queen!”

My heart gallops in my chest, while it simultaneously feels tighter.

Watching her right now, full smile on her face and making herself comfortable in the bed and… happy. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of and then some.

Oliver leaves us to get settled. Once I tuck Mackenzie in, despite her protesting that she’stoo old for that, I make my way back to the kitchen where I find him again. Leaning against the marble countertop, arms crossed and a serious look on his face. He looks like he’s deep in thought.

When he senses me enter the space, he stands up quickly and puts a smile on his face.

“So I spoke to Frank, the owner of the restaurant, and he said everything’s all set for you to interview with him on the fifteenth. That gives you a little over a week to get all prepared if that works for you.”

“That sounds great. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

He nods. “Listen. I hate to do this when you just got here minutes ago, but I have to leave before the sun comes up tomorrow for a few days.”

“O-okay.”

“I’m really sorry, Macey.”

“Don’t be. It’s okay. I just… feel bad. I feel like we’re already invading your space here.”

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