Page 141 of Unspoken Words
“If you need an extra minute, I’ve got time.”
“No no, I’m good. There’s no point delaying the inevitable, right?”
“I guess.”
Opening the taxi door, I climbed out and met the driver at the back of the vehicle. “You must see this all the time,” I said, forcing a small laugh.
“Well, yes.” He removed my two suitcases and extended their handles. “But it’s usually the other way around. People are sad to leave, not to come home.”
I stared up at the five-storey residential unit tower I lived in with Byron. It was his unit or, more accurately, his parent’s unit. But it had been my home for the past year after moving from my dingy one-bedroom dump that, funnily enough, had felt more like home than the one I was about to walk into.
“This isn’t my home,” I said, before sucking in a deep breath.
“Oh. I just assumed.”
Smiling, I paid him cash and wheeled my cases along the path that lead to the front of the building, six tall palm trees flanking me on both sides. I stopped and admired them for a moment before punching my residential occupier code into the security pad. The unlock tone beeped, so I pushed down on the lever handle with my elbow and nudged it open with my hip, walking backwards while pulling my cases through.
“Here, let me help you.”
I spun around at the sound of Byron’s voice and bumped my head on his outstretched arm, knocking my sunglasses from my face.
“Shit!” I bent down to pick them up, but Byron beat me to it, both us crouched at the knee.
“I’m sorry, Elle. I was on the phone when your cab arrive—” he paused when his eyes landed on my face. “You’ve been crying.”
Avoiding his gaze, I stood up, took my sunglasses from him, and placed them back on my head. “Yeah.”
He was quiet for a moment then took my suitcases from me.
“Thank you.”
“How was your flight?”
“Fine.” I forced another smile. “I had a row of seats all to myself.”
“If you’d let me buy your ticket, you could’ve sat in business class—”
“Byron, I didn’t need to fly business class.”
“I know you didn’tneedto. I just thought it would’ve been nicer.”
“I know. And thank you, that’s very sweet.”
He nodded, and we entered the elevator, standing side by side, neither one of us making the effort to touch or kiss. His body language mirrored my own: unsure, undecipherable … uncomfortable.
“I haven’t cooked anything for dinner. Thought maybe you’d like to go out?”
Going out was the last thing I wanted to do, so I scrunched my nose and shook my head. “Actually, I’d rather not if that’s okay. I’m not really hungry. I ate some nibblies on the plane.”
“Of course. Sure.”
The doors slid open, and he gestured I exit first, so I stepped out and headed down the hallway, stopping at his apartment door.
Fishing through my bag for my key, he pulled out his instead and unlocked the door to let us in.
The apartment, as always, was pristine, not a thing out of place; display home tidy. A hint of vanilla dispersed from a flickering oil burner on the coffee table and a fresh bunch of white lilies branched from a vase atop the dining room table.
“They’re lovely,” I said, pointing to the centrepiece as I kicked off my shoes. “Did Ava bring them round?”
