‘Come on. We’re done here. Lock up your apartment and I’ll take the bag to the trash. You can help me move the frame into my place and I’ll pour us a glass of wine.’
‘We have to share one?’ I sniffled and we both started to laugh.
‘Okay, we’ll splurge. We’ll each have our own glass,’ he whispered. I could hear the smile in his voice as he smoothed my hair. ‘Go on, lock up and I’ll be right back.’
I was too tired and too upset to argue. It was nice to just follow directions. Plus, I trusted Todd and it seemed painfully clear all of a sudden that I could use a shoulder to cry on. Even if it was embarrassing to look a little vulnerable.
We met back in the hall and managed to haul the enormous frame into his foyer. He led me to the sofa, sat me down and put a chenille throw on my lap, muttering, ‘Chilly in here.’
When he came back with the wine, I stared into my glass for a moment. ‘Technically, it’s morning and only alcoholics drink in the morning,’ I muttered.
‘I think that it’s technically still night because it’s dark out and will be for a few more hours. Plus, I’m not an alcoholic and neither are you.’ He took a hefty swig of his wine and grinned. ‘There, I went first. It’s safe. No one’s looking.’
I took a sip, swirled it around on my tongue and exhaled loudly. ‘Good.’
‘Only the finest bottle that seven dollars can buy.’ He settled back on the sofa and looked at me. For just a moment I heard the phantom sounds of that satisfied female echoing from his bedroom. I felt a shudder work through me and shook it off. This was no time to get horny. Sure, it was obvious that he must be good in bed, but he was my neighbour and my friend.
I took another sip and felt some of the tension drain out of my body. His apartment was full of antiques and throw rugs in warm earth tones. Unusual and colorful art hung on the walls. Antique tin signs, a picture frame made from an old barn window. Nice.
‘I’m sorry about the water-works,’ I mumbled. I felt stupid and lost but strangely comfortable with him witnessing my disintegration.
‘Hey, no big deal. It happens to us all at some point. It sucks to put time into some asshole who can’t see how good he has it.’ He touched my hair for just a second.
I felt the urge to kiss him and again shook off the impulse. I was being crazy. Seeking comfort in the arms of a man I truly liked to make myself feel better about getting dumped by a flaming, gaping asshole.
‘Thanks. Maybe he was on to something, though. Maybe I’m not much to look at. Maybe I am too stuffy and uptight and what was the word? Oh. Driven.’
This time when he reached out, he stroked my cheek. With one finger, he traced the ridge of my cheekbone. I went liquid. Just being touched was soothing. I closed my eyes and let him touch my face. ‘First, there is no such thing as being too driven when it comes to your dreams,’ he said softly. His fingers brushed along the slope of my nose and I had to force myself to breathe. ‘Second, you are most certainly something to look at.’ When his fingers slid along my bottom lip I felt it go lax under his touch. When he swept it back the other way, I touched his finger with my tongue.
He made a low sound. It made me want to kiss him more.
‘Third,’ he said right in my ear and my nipples grew rigid under my sweater, ‘you are not uptight. You are fierce. You are funny. You are beautiful. And you don’t deserve to be abandoned. You deserve worship.’
I let out a big guffaw and opened my eyes. He was right there. His nose nearly touching mine. His lips so close to mine I felt invisible ripples of energy like a phantom kiss. ‘Worship?’
His eyes were serious. Dark blue like new denim. He wasn’t kidding. He nodded, his sober look never changing. ‘Absolutely. Worship. You should be worshipped, Nicole. And if you let me take you to the bedroom, I’ll do just that. I’ve waited six months for a chance and here it is.’