Page 107 of Damaged

I’m 5’5”. I fit fine in coach anyway.

I can see why all 6’4” of James would rather never step foot on a passenger jet again. If we have to answer for these things at the pearly gates, I think he’d have an easier time explaining his carbon footprint to St. Peter than I would.

There’s a black Cadillac waiting to pick me up at JFK. We take the Midtown tunnel to Manhattan, and as we exit, I can’t help but look at this city a little differently.

Five days is as long as I’ve ever spent away from civilization with the nearest store a fifteen-minute drive away.

I missed the bustle, but I hope I don’t end up missing the intimacy the isolation granted to James and me.

The Cadillac pulls into the alley of my building. I get out, and building management is there ready to let me in through the back door. It feels strange stepping into the elevator. Stranger still walking to my apartment door. But there is a lightness and speed in my step.

Steve was brought back down to my apartment, and I need to see him first.

I go into the living room without taking my coat and shoes off and smile wide as I see Steve lounging lazily on the top of the couch. He closes his eyes a little, and his tail flickers up and down.

“Did you miss me, mister?”

I spread my arms wide. Steve looks bored. Like my presence is more of a disruption to his nap, but I can tell he’s just being a cat and playing it cool by how loudly he purrs when I go over and scratch his ears.

“Yeah, you’re a good actor. But I know you love me.”

I sit next to him and just spend a good twenty minutes soaking up being home. What do I do after this? Do I go up to James’s apartment or wait for an invitation?

We were eating dinner together there but didn’t discuss the rules. Is it presumptuous of me to think I’ll sleep there?

I don’t want to move too fast and practically move in together. We should have our own space. But it’s not like we can’t do that in his massive penthouse alone.

He has the room in New York to not feel suffocated. To not feel like you’re moving too fast by spending every waking second together. My phone dings, and I look at the incoming text.

James:I heard you’ve arrived.

Me:Yep! Safe and sound. Currently in my apt.

James:You should come up. And stay up.There’s plenty of room for two up here.

I pause. So, he does want me to quasi move in with him. I want it, too. Badly.

I can’t get enough of him. I tell myself we have options if we see each other too much, like I can spend more time down in my apartment. But with how much James works, that’s probably not even a concern to begin with.

Me:That means Steve’s moving up in the world too.

James:That’s fine. I told you. I already have a cat.

Me:You pay rent for a cat.

James:Isn’t that what owning a cat is?

Me:Hmm. Fair point. Give me an hour or two to shower & pack.

James:Text me when you’re ready. I’m your own personal porter tonight.

Me:Can’t wait. Do u take tips?

James:They’re required.

I smile and put my phone down. I was stupid to be so nervous. If anything, this next chapter of us might be better than the first. At least it’s more real. More sustainable. Living in the forest while James ignored work was always going to come to a crashing halt.

I take a shower in my own bathroom. Use my own shampoo and conditioner. Change into my own set of comfy clothes.

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