Page 21 of A Merry Penthouse Christmas
“Do I?” Full disclosure, Arik’s frown is as unfairly handsome as his smirk.
“You do!” I asserted. “You’re not as independent as you pretend. You let Gabby dote on you like a mother. Skylar talks back at you like some petulant younger brother.”
“Oh,pleasesay that to his face. His reaction would be priceless.”
“I’m serious.”
He held my stare with such fixed intensity that all my bluster blew right out of me, especially when he asked, “What does that make you?”
Like the coward I am, I ducked my head, turned my gaze away, and said, “The nanny.”
What else could I ever be? Just because Arik isn’t bringing his hookups around the penthouse anymore doesn’t mean he isn’t still seeing them. By his own admittance, the only thing capable of tying him down is Bastian, his son.
Not the nanny he’s known for less than two months.
We’re three weeks from Christmas, and my crush isn’t just ruining me, it’s crushing me.
“Ah!” I yelp upon cutting through the foyer to discover Skylar waiting there without so much as having knocked, rung the doorbell, or made any noises that would have alerted me he was here for his usual morning powwow and pickup of Arik.
“You really need to spook less, dear heart. It’s unbecoming.” Skylar speaks without looking at me, which is honestly preferable, because when he does look, he adds, “Among other things.”
How can I go wrong with a basic Henley and jeans? They’re clean!
Skylar’s phone rings, and when he checks the caller ID, he answers with a smile gracing his features that I have not seen on him before. I don’t think I’ve seen any smile on him before.
“Aw, is someone missing me already?” he says in the sort of baby voice reserved for, well, babies, pets, and, occasionally, significant others. Because he answered with his left hand, I notice the wedding band around his ring finger.
He’s married. He’s talking to his husband.
“Oh hush. I was hardly even presentable when I walked out the door this morning.”
That makes me feel even worse about my ensemble, because Skylar looks impeccable. Today’s outfit is all black with a button-down shirt, no tie, and an open blue blazer covered in embroidered black flowers. He looks like the wedding planner for an A-list celebrity, somehow equally chic and December festive despite wearing floral instead of snowflakes.
I have long since learned to ignore his cracks about my wardrobe—or at least to try. I’m aware I could never come close to being as crisp and stylish as Arik, let alone as runway ready as Skylar, but a makeover is not in my budget right now.
“Will do, darling. See you tonight. Kiss, kiss,” Skylar says and also makes little kissy noises before hanging up. He immediately slides his ever-impressive glare in my direction while pocketing his phone. “Can I help you?”
“Sorry!” I get that it is awkward how I haven’t moved since spotting him, so I finish my trek into the foyer and meet him by the door. “I was just noticing your ring. It’s lovely. That was your husband?”
“Sweetheart,” Skylar sneers while scrutinizing me again, “you’ve worked here for weeks and you’re only now noticing I’m taken?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. Everything with this guy is confrontational, and I’ve never been good at, well, confronting anyone.
I think Skylar notices my floundering. He’s the observant one, after all, and he keeps his attention away from his tablet longenough to utter what can only be described as a long-suffering sigh. “Go on then. Considering Arik is taking literal ages like usual.”
“Go on what? Arik is feeding—”
“Don’t care about the cause, honey, only the result. But if I must wait, why don’t you tell Daddy Skylar all about whatever’s bothering you.”
Given Skylar’s size and style, I wouldn’t instinctively dub himDaddy, but after talking to him? Yeah, that checks. “So, um, you’re… gay? Bi? Pan?”
“Very gay,” he answers. “My husband is bi though. He has the same taste in men as he does in women. Skinny bitches. He just knows I’m the best.”
I chuckle, not because I doubt Skylar, but because I seriously envy anyone with this much confidence in themselves and their partner. “I’m also bi but really out of practice with men. I’ve never doubted I’m not straight. I mean, is anyone 100% straight?”
“Not in my experience,” Skylar snorts. “Or 100% gay, for that matter. I mean, I’m as close as they come, 99%, maybe 98%, but even I can admit that if a good pair of tits walks by, they are nice to look at.”
I laugh again. I agree, though I’ve never really thought about my own percentage. 60/40? Though which direction changes with the day.
