Page 13 of Love From the Ashes

I stared out my window, staying silent.

“Sofie? Would you care to answer? I’d prefer not to sit here.”

“Chicken ziti with broccoli.”

“Good, now we’re getting somewhere. Lawrence, if they don’t have shrimp scampi, you can get two orders of chicken ziti.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.” Lawrence got out of the car and dashed toward the restaurant.

I watched him through the windshield. Even through the rain, I could tell he was built like a bodyguard with his tall and brawny physique. He wasn’t what I expected for a chauffeur. Shrugging my thoughts aside, I stared out my window, feeling Mr. Morgan watching me. Lawrence returned to the car, and after turning around in the street, he parked in front of my building. I grabbed my soggy pizza box and climbed out of the car while Mr. Morgan held the door open for me. He took the laptop from the back seat and the bag with our dinner from Lawrence after saying something to the man.

I was entering my code in the keypad at the front entry when I heard the car drive away. Surprised, I glanced at Mr. Morgan. “Where’s he going?”

“I told him I’d call him when I needed him to come back,” he said while shielding me from the rain with the laptop case.

Finally gaining entry to the lobby, I led the way to the elevator, waiting for him to comment about my apartment building since it had to be far below his standard. Surprisingly, he said nothing. My nervousness and embarrassment grew as we walked down the corridor to my door. He’d held back from making any comments so far, but I doubted he’d be able to continue with his silence when he saw the size of my place and my lack of furniture.

“This is my apartment.” I unlocked the door and stepped inside, with Mr. Morgan entering behind me. I steeled myself for the comments I expected to spill from his mouth, but he still said nothing. Puzzled, I couldn’t resist watching him as he placed the laptop and our food on the lonely-looking coffee table sitting in the middle of the otherwise-empty floor. My apartment manager had given me the used piece of furniture which had become my combination dining table, reading table, and desk. Although I could tell he was surprised, especially with how his eyes darted around the room, he didn’t appear the slightest bit disturbed. His reaction was far different from what I’d expected from a conceited snob.

“Do you have somewhere I can hang my wet coat?” he said, turning in a circle as he scanned my studio apartment.

“You can hang it over the shower curtain in the bathroom. That’s the only place I have.”

“Here, give me your jacket.” Mr. Morgan reached for my sleeve, helping me remove the quilted cotton garment, which was completely soaked and sticking to my blouse. After peeling the material from my body, Mr. Morgan took our jackets into the bathroom and flipped them over the curtain rod. Then he came back to join me. “Shall we eat while it’s still warm?” he suggested, motioning to the table.

“Good idea. Do you want something to drink? I have water.”

“Water sounds great.” Mr. Morgan sat on the floor in front of the coffee table.

After retrieving two bottles of water from the refrigerator, I joined him at the table, taking a seat on the opposite side.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Mr. Morgan said before taking a bite of his shrimp scampi.

“I’d rather not.” Uncomfortable with the situation I’d found myself in, my response came out rather sharp.

“Why? Do you have a closet full of skeletons or something like that?” Mr. Morgan teased.

I did, and I wasn’t willing to divulge any snippets from my past. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Morgan, I’d prefer not to discuss my personal life.”

“Will you stop calling me Mr. Morgan? It’s Reid, all right?”

“I’ll call you Reid if you agree to keep our conversation focused on work.”

“Okay, fine, I agree. At least we’re getting somewhere.” Looking frustrated, Reid brusquely removed the laptop from the case and opened it up. “Where’s the presentation saved?”

“Della said she put it on the desktop.”

“I see it.”

I crawled to his side of the table and sat next to him, digging the packet of slides from the canvas bag and setting it on the table. “Here’s the hard copy of the presentation.”

“Thanks.”

The two of us nibbled on our food while I pointed out the revisions on the slides, and Reid made the changes on the computer. He was surprisingly patient, explaining how to use the program while giving me detailed step-by-step instructions as we went along.

Two hours later, I let out a massive yawn as Reid made the last few changes. Then it dawned on me that my head was leaning against his shoulder, his thigh pressed against mine. Sitting next to him had felt so natural and comfortable. I hadn’t realized we’d done that. And he’d never said a word. I snapped to attention, embarrassed by our bodily contact.

“It’s all right. I don’t mind,” Reid said, grinning at me.

---