Page 92 of Lost Room Lawyer
As Dominic focused on boiling the spaghetti noodles, I became aware of the disarray in our kitchen. Since we had minimal storage space, we had to keep supplies on the additional shelf Dominic had installed above the dining table when we moved in. I knew I couldn’t do much in the kitchen, but the state of the kitchen reminded me of the filing archive in Canonica’s villa in St. Moritz.
The days leading up to my breakdown had left their mark on my room. I didn’t need Hector’s OCD to tell me that urgent action was needed. So I went to my room, opened the windows, and tidied up. While changing the bed linens, I remembered Hector visiting me in the hospital.
The past few days seemed to have taken their toll on Hector as well, evident from his battered hands. His skin was dry and cracked, and he even had a bandage on one hand.
After dinner, I cleaned the kitchen while Dominic prepared for work. It felt satisfying to engage in such a mundane task. I had been so lost in my thoughts lately. Although my manuscript wasn’t finished yet, it was already shaping up to be another eight-hundred-page book.
Maybe I’ll call my publisher on Monday. She’ll surely be thrilled to hear that I’m back in action.
I felt different. After all these years of writer’s block, the chains had finally been broken, and I owed that to Hector.
Hector.
No matter what I thought about, my thoughts kept circling back to him. The fact that he would be here soon made me nervous, especially since we were on unfamiliar ground. Sure,I had guys over at my place before, who had left the next morning without a trace—which was fine. But with Hector, it was something else. Something entirely different.
Damn, I was terrified!
“Have fun!” Dominic called as he left. “Don’t go too wild!”
I was still in the kitchen when the doorbell rang shortly after—at our apartment door, not the main entrance. Dominic and Hector must have run into each other at the building entrance, and Dominic had let him in. My heart raced, and I could almost hear the psychologist’s voice echoing in my head.
“You shouldn’t overdo it. Take it slow.”
How am I supposed to do that?
I folded the towel and put it aside before heading to the door. My mind was blank, and my mouth felt dry.
How are we supposed to have a normal conversation?
Do I even want to have a conversation?
Do we have to have a conversation?
Can’t we just …?
I opened the door, and there was Hector. Relief washed over me, and all tension dissolved.
Dressed casually, with the top buttons of his shirt undone and his blazer loose, he greeted me with a sincere smile. “Hi.”
I was at a loss for words. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Hector nervously kneaded the back of his neck. “I just ran into your roommate. He let me in downstairs.”
At least I managed to nod.
“What’s wrong?”
“This …” Embarrassed, I brushed my mouth and gestured for him to come in. “It all feels so … surreal.” I closed the door behind him and turned back to him.
He looked good, but I couldn’t help but notice the changes in him. A few strands of hair fell over his forehead, and a three-daystubble covered his chin. I had noticed the stubble yesterday, but I hadn’t expected him to show up unshaven today.
Of course, he noticed where I was looking and awkwardly twisted his mouth. “I didn’t get around to shaving. Sorry.”
“You have no idea how attractive you look,” I gushed.
For a moment, we silently faced each other. I got lost in his light brown eyes as an attraction built up between us, making it impossible for me to do anything.
But when his eyebrows twitched, I also noticed the sadness in his face. “What’s wrong?” I asked anxiously.
