Page 77 of Vicious Arrangement
It’s all careful, and it makes me feel bad. I like her in my bed, I like my sheets smelling like gardenias and jasmine.
Although what the fuck time does she go to work? Because it’s six now, so she must have taken Angus at five.
I don’t think I like her out there by herself without a way to track her.
Sure, she has a hellhound, but what if he’s not there one day?
Work’s long that day and high pressure, but meetings go well, deals go through, and when I leave, I go to the Apple Store in SoHo for the latest watch. I pick the silver band for it, something classy, and I get the guy selling it to me to match it to a second one and to my phone.
So I can track her.
“Kids,” he says, “gotta keep on top of them.”
“Kids,” I say, agreeing.
He repacks the watch and slides it in the bag. When he goes to do it with the other I just take it and put it in my satchel.
I’m not wearing that. My watches are expensive timepieces. But I guess when I work out I could use the idiotic watch.
It’s idiotic for me, not her. For someone like Aria who doesn’t wear a watch, it’s practical, and maybe it’s something she needs as a nurse. I don’t know.
When I get home, I slide the box into my bedside drawer and heat up one of my chef-made meals. I put it in the steaming oven, and wait, then grab a juice. There’s other things. Her things.
Cake. Spaghetti and sauce, and something that looks like stew.
I finish my juice, and take the sprinkles cupcake, and take a bite. It’s from my favorite bakery. And it’s the cupcake I always bring Josh when I stop by that bakery.
Josh… boy do I owe that kid.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I know I’m not alone. I turn, and Aria’s there with Angus who growls at me.
“I didn’t hear that creature,” I say, “and I didn’t hear the elevator.”
“In your own world.” She holds up a box. “We decided on pizza. Do you want some?”
For a moment I’m about to say no, but I need to make an effort. If this is going to work, I have to try. Because I get the feeling that Aria will walk if I end up fucking this up even more than I have.
So I smile and gesture to the steam oven. “If you share… whatever it was I put in the oven.”
“Deal.”
We end up eating our strange and delicious mishmash meal on the terrace with Angus running about, coming up to her to beg every few minutes.
She doesn’t mind the disgusting dog all over her. And okay, I guess for a monstrous beast, he’s cute, but he’s still a dog, and they’re disgusting, like all animals.
I clean up and load the dishwasher, our nothing burger of a conversation sending tiny thrills bouncing in my blood.
She’s… something, and I don’t want the talk to end, so I invite her up to my part of the terrace and pour us wine.
I shut the door on the dog, and no, his soft whines don’t make guilt wash through me. My fingers itch to let him in. He’ll get over it. He’s got a room and a fucking terrace just for him. He doesn’t need to rule every fucking room.
Aria turns her glass in her hands and looks down at the contents of the white Burgundy. “You know, Josh is a wonderful kid.”
“He likes you, too.”
She laughs. “But he really missed you here?—”
“Going to make it up to him,” I say, cutting her off before she can ask me just how I could do that to him.
