Page 12 of A Merry Penthouse Christmas
As I do, a sour odor assaults my nose, and I turn my head to see the spit-up on my shoulder. Wonderful. Bastian must have done that when he burped.
“A covert assassin, I see.”
I hear Beau chuckle and turn to see him entering holding a spit rag. “That’s what these are for. You left it in my room.”
“So I did. New shirt it is. At least I had the forethought to not put my jacket on yet.” As I accept the rag from him to dab at my shirt despite knowing I will be changing it, I get a shock from our hands touching. It’s nothing special, no fantastical “spark,” just the colder, drier weather causing static electricity from Beau’s sock-clad feet dragging across the carpet. He must have felt it too, because he gets some of that color in his handsome cheeks again.
I am not going to seduce my manny.
Nanny.
I head out of the room to replace my shirt, thinking that if I am going to hold true to that, I am going to need to keep letting off steam with others. Often.
Chapter 4
BEAU
Almosttwoweekslater,I have my new routine down pat, a great rapport building with baby Bastian, good headway made on my master’s degree, meaning I should be able to move on to finalizing my dissertation soon so I can present it during the next semester and actually graduate in the spring. If I can find an open teaching position before next summer is over, I’ll be golden, and the new standing with my master’s will mean a better starting salary come the school year.
It’s slow-going but it’s movement. I actually have very little to complain about.
Other than the increasing crush on my employer.
The only thing keeping it bearable is knowing that Arik has to be straight. He has to be. Right? I’ve caught enough of his bed partners sneaking out in the morning to be pretty sure about that.
Since it’s almost Thanksgiving, I’ve started enjoying the extra doses of Christmas springing up around the city, something I have a very nice view of at all angles from the penthouse windows. I’ve even added a few things inside the apartment. I can’t help it! I want to enjoy this time of year the way I used to.
I went down to the storage area to check on my things and found that Arik had a slew of decorations that looked like they hadn’t come up from the basement in years. When I asked if I could put some of it up, he said, “Go nuts. The only reason I don’t is lack of time. I don’t mind holiday cheer. But no tree until after Turkey Day.”
Something I completely agree with. I may have also made sure to take my ugly sweater out of storage to be donned when putting up said tree come Friday. Black Friday counts as after Turkey Day! It’safter. And better to stay in and put up the Christmas tree rather than face Black Friday insanity out in the world.
I haven’t worn this sweater yet, but it is covered in red and green textbooks and says:
Don’t make me repeat myself.
-History
It’s cute and silly more than ugly. I think. But I’m excited for when I do wear it, because Bastian is starting to notice the color red. I’ve had a lot of red things out while picking decorations, and anything red near him always draws his eye. I first noticedwhen Arik wore his red tie again the other day, and Bastian was completely fixated on it, like he was really looking. It made Arik’s face light up so sweetly, he was like a different person for a minute. He’s always nice, just a little guarded and bantery, alwayson, but for a second there he was… soft. Exuding the kind of genuine joy that just pulls you in.
I am not weathering this crush well.
“Bello! All food is in the refrigerator or freezer! Understand?”
I’m on a foot stool draping tinsel above the sitting room windows. Gabby, Arik’s maid, is here today. She took to calling meBelloas soon as I introduced myself and mentioned my brother Bellamy. She reminds me a lot of my mom who, despite me not knowing much Spanish, still always calls memijo. I guessbellois one of many Spanish words forhandsome, which makes it hard to argue with her.
Plus, you never argue with an auntie.
Gabby enters from the kitchen with a bit of sweat on her brow that she wipes away. She’s been cooking all afternoon—after her usual cleaning—which is not part of her normal duties, but she is apparently an excellent cook, and Arik paid her extra this week to make some Thanksgiving staples for us. He has obligations on Thursday, despite the holiday, while his employees enjoy their time off, so he still needs me to stay with Bastian. Which I don’t mind! Honestly, I’m grateful to not have to go home and field more endless, “So what happened between you and Emily?” questions and the accompanying pitying looks. Dinner here sounds far better.
“You are a godsend,” I tell Gabby—a little quieter than she called to me, since Bastien is dozing in the sitting room swing.
“No, no, the godsend isyou,” she says, looking around at the very tasteful decorating I’ve been doing, if I do say so myself. She’s not as old as my mother, more like one of my older sisters,but both Gabby and my sisters treat me like I’m fifteen. “Lovely job,Bello. This place needed a good, um…”
“Maternal touch?” I snicker.
“Yes!” She doesn’t even say it jokingly. “Instructions are written down, but if I forgot something, you don’t hesitate to call.”
“I willnotcall you,” I argue, “because you are going to enjoy your weekend too. See you next week?”
