by Daisy Allen
"31."
"So, the penthouse."
"We don't call it that," he retorts, with a shrug.
"Why not?"
"Because we're not rich, elitist, show-offy snobs."
"Touché."
The elevator stops and I hold my breath as the doors open, not quite sure what to expect. This is his home.
Xavier steps out and turns when he notices I haven't followed.
"Well, are you coming?"
"I don't know, yet."
He looks amused. "Well, I don't know if you know this about elevators, but they go down as well as up, and if you don't get off, you're not going to be able to come back up again without me."
Right on cue the doors start to close and I step out, just before they meet in the middle behind me.
"Come on," he says, with a head tilt. "Sorry about the mess." I follow him through the entrance way into the main area of his apartment.
I gasp.
As an interior designer I've seen a lot of homes. Small, medium, large and gargantuan. Some could never be made beautiful, even with the help of some styling, and some are stunning examples of architecture, all on their own.
This is an example of the latter.
It's one big open space. A millionaire's loft. Floor to ceiling windows on all four sides, almost uninterrupted by the bare minimum of walls. Thick white beams hold up the ceiling, strong but elegant. Light streams though the open glass, filling every inch of the space with light. The apartment is completely sparse, but there's a sense of innate warmth.
I spot a king size floor level bed in the far corner of the apartment, beside it a stack of books. I can't help but wonder if he's still reading law textbooks. Scanning the empty space for more furniture, all I find is a leather recliner facing the window and beside it a stocked drinks trolley. I walk over to the kitchen area in the middle of the floor. It's compact and looks unused. I wonder how much time he spends here.
If I had walked into a stranger’s apartment and had to sum him up from what I see, I would profile him as three things: bachelor, workaholic, lonely.
And I have to remind myself, Xavier might as well be a stranger to me.
"So, what do you think?" he says, right beside me. And I jump, not realizing how immersed I was in his living space.
I take a breath before answering.
"Eh, I've seen worse. Probably should do something about the clutter."
He grins at me, and I try not to stop my stomach from doing a complete somersault. I don't know if he worked on it, but he seems to have perfected a wolfish grin. I bet women go crazy for it. A flash of white-hot jealousy rips through me, and I fake a cough to turn away, in case he can see it in my eyes.
"So, um, how long have you lived here?"
"Just over two years."
"And you’re getting furniture at the rate of one piece a year?"
"Yeah, I’m due for another piece soon. Maybe a key hook or something."
"That’s not furniture, Xavier."
"Don’t be a snob, Malynda,” he says, emphasizing my name. I'm still getting used to hearing it. I'm still getting used to him.
"Hey, stop calling me a snob, I'm not the one living in a penthouse."
Now it's his turn to say it, "Touché."
I poke my tongue out at him. It seems I've reverted back to being a teenager in his presence.
"Anyway, I live here for free,” he shrugs.
"Free? Why?"
"Well, my landlord doesn’t charge me any rent."
"Who’s your landlord?"
"Me,” he says and there’s that grin again. "Kaine and I have a side real estate venture. This was the second building we bought together. I was going to rent out this floor as well, but I fell in love with it, so I took it. Perks of owning it, I guess."
"What was the first?"
He doesn't answer for a while, walking over to the window and laying a hand on the glass. "The first was the house I grew up in," he finally answers, his voice low, almost inaudible, as he stares at the cityscape spread out in front of him.
I don't say anything. It almost feels like intruding.
Taking a few steps back, leaving him with his thoughts, I take a walk around his apartment again, taking mental notes of what I think I can suggest. I try to separate my personal feelings and try to go through the motions as if it’s any other client, and any other job.
There's obviously a reason he’s left the place like it is for two years, and I want to be sensitive to that, while still making it into a functional home for him, a place he wants to return to every night.
I can't help wondering what his life is like these days. In most houses, the furnishings and personalized touches tell me what I need to know about a person. In Xavier’s case, it's the lack of them.
Is he lonely? Is he just passing through? He seems attached to Ash Industries and this city. I wonder how long he's been here.
All answers I want to know about him, but not willing to answer the same questions myself.
"So, what do you think?" he says, when I come full circle of the apartment and return to where he's standing. He seems to have regained his composure.
"You really want me to do this?" I ask.
He seems shocked by the question.
"Did I ever seem like a kidder to you? Yes, I really want you to do this."
"Fine. Then if we’re going to do this, we need some rules."
"Shoot."
"We can’t talk about the past."
He doesn't say anything; there's the slightest tension along his jawline but he holds his tongue. So I continue.
"I don’t want you thinking that there will be anything past this. I’m doing this to fulfil my commitment to Ash and Jade and their foundation. Once it's finished, we'll go our separate ways." The word ‘again’ hangs silently in the air.
"Anything else?"
I'm surprised as his brusqueness. "No."
"Well, I’m a lawyer, so, I’m going to need to counter offer. I get one question a day. About the past. No follow ups, just one question. But you have to answer honestly. 100% honestly. Without fear of repercussion. Do we have a deal?"
"What about the last part of what I said.”
“About going our separate ways?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to hold us to something I don’t want either of us to want.”
“Xavier!”
“Malynda. Whatever happens, happens. Can we just agree on that?”
The words sound amiable, but I know enough of this new Xavier to know, that there’s no point in arguing this point. I will just have to be the one who controls what happens.
I nod.
"Let's kiss on it?" he asks with a wink.
"Xavier!" I exclaim, shaking my head as he laughs. "So where do we start?" I lift my hands in surrender.
"With my question for the day.” I hold my breath. “Have you been in New York City all this time?"
I didn't know what I was expecting, but I guess I'm not surprised it was this.
“Yes.” 100% honesty.
"Wh-" he starts.
I hold up a finger, "One."
He sighs, "I think I was out negotiated. Do you have a question for me?"
"Yes,” I nod. “What the hell are we going to do with this place?"
He winks and starts to walk, calling over his shoulder. "What else? We start with the bedroom.”
Eleven
Him
I can still smell her.
Everywhere I walk in my own apartment, I can fucking smell her.
After twelve years of searching, of whys and where is shes and what ifs, of nightmares and daydreams, she was in my home.
Smelling just like I'd imagined she would.
Lilacs and vanilla. Ice cream. Just like she did all those years ago.
She hasn't changed, at least in that respect.
But I have.
Or have I?
Has she noticed any difference in me? Or am I still
the same lanky, love sick dog I always was to her? Does she even care?
No. I know she does. I felt the way her breath would stop every time I came too close, the flush rising up her cheeks giving her away.
Then why, WHY has she come up with these ridiculous rules? Are they to protect her or me?
And her answer to my question.
Yes.
One word. Telling me everything I'd dreaded to hear. That she's been here in New York this whole time. But I already knew that. Or else I wouldn't have spent the last decade the way I did.
Roaming these streets, searching for any sign of her. Reluctant to ever leave in case today would be the day.
Now she is back and as lost to me as ever.
***
A buzz on the makeshift nightstand made of books wakes me up. I sit straight up, jolted out from a foggy dream, the dark horizon telling me it's still early. Earlier than I normally wake up, which is earlier than most people. Who the fuck is texting me at this time? It's either Kaine, wanting to meet me at the office for a dawn work out session, or a text scammer, who will be sorry they ever found my number.
I tap on the screen to check the number.
It's Malynda.
Can you meet me some time today to go over a few furniture choices?
She's kidding me, right? That's what she's thinking about at 5:12 a.m.? And I thought I was a workaholic. I tap a reply.
How about I meet you at the drugstore to get you some sleeping pills? Go back to bed.
The response comes back in less than ten seconds.
Xavier.
It's one word, but I can hear it in the tone it's intended. Hell, I can even see her hands on her hips as she's giving me the eye. Hey, if she has the audacity to wake me up at this hour, then I at least get to have some fun with it.
Shhh, I'm still in bed. But you're welcome to join me.
Xavier!
Yup, I can hear that one, too.
Stop laughing.
Apparently, she can hear me as well.
Fine. Yes, I can meet you. It will be my pleasure.
Don't be expecting any pleasure.
Just that of your company, Malynda.
Isabella.
Yeah, you can bring her too. the more the merrier.
That shut her up. I drag my body out of bed and walk to the bathroom. My apartment might look sparse, but I actually spent a lot of time renovating the interior to some very exact specifications. The first being a bathroom you could have a Roman orgy in. Specifically, an inordinately large shower with a custom-made rainfall shower head and two side shower nozzles and water pressure that could be used for torture by the CIA. It can be also be used as a steam room, with a bench that runs the length of one side of the cubicle. The walls and floor are laid in Pompeii Scarpeletto, a gray Italian natural stone, that is smooth and cooling against my skin. Healing to the touch. And after my sparring sessions with Ram, I need all the therapy, hydro or otherwise, that I can get. While others prefer to layback in a whirlpool tub, I prefer that the soreness is massaged out of my muscles by shower jets.
This is my sanctuary. I return here in sickness and health.
The lights turn on as soon as I walk into the bathroom.
"On," I say, and the audio system starts up. A playlist of nature sounds I’ve curated to switch my mind and body into gear every morning.
I abhor the onslaught of TVs at Ash Industries’ gym that Kaine had built for his employees. Kaine insists on having all news channels up at once in the morning, so he can absorb everything.
My morning ritual requires serenity before the inevitable chaos of my work day.
I make sure the small screen in my shower is hooked up to my phone's Bluetooth and I press the button on the touch pad to turn the water on to my morning shower program. The jets scald my back for 30 seconds before it switches to ice cold, shocking my body awake.
There's a beep and a glance at the screen tells me Malynda's replied.
I don't bother to stop the instant grin spreading across my face, completely resigned to the fact that she has turned me into a giggling school boy. I haven't felt like this in years. Twelve, to be exact.
"What time?"
"Quippy!"
"What time, Xavier?"
"12? For lunch?"
"2. AFTER lunch."
"Fine. Make me eat my PB&J by myself."
"2 it is. I'll send you the address later."
"Okay, I'll be the one looking sad and hungry."
The emoji I get back is ruder than I expected and the echo of my laughter in the shower cubicle lasts long after her message is sent.
Then I lean back, my hand reaching for hardness, trying to think of her in all the ways I’ve missed her.
***
"Holy shit. I want that one!"
"No." She grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me past the race car bed display and down toward the back of the store. “And anyway, I don’t remember you liking Ferrari’s.”
"Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe I like fast cars now. And anyway, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to listen to my ideas."
"You didn't pay all that money for us to be listening to your ideas. You paid for me, so you're going to get me."
I stop and look at her, one eyebrow raising.
Her brow furrows for a moment and then her eyes roll.
"You know what I mean. You paid for my services."
Now I feel my other eyebrow raise as well.
"Oh shush, come on. I have other clients to meet. You're not my only appointment today."
"Oh, so we're really not having lunch together."
"I already had lunch."
"Oh? With whom?"
"Cameron.”
It's like a splash of ice water over me, and it takes me a few seconds to recover before I shake myself out of it.
"What do you think about that?" She points to a bed.
It's fine. I don't care. I tell her so.
"You're supposed to care. It's your home."
I shrug. "Have you seen my home? Does it look like I care?"
"Then why am I here, Xavier?"
My eyes wander for a moment over her face before resting on her eyes. "You know why."
She takes a moment and then looks down at the list in her hand, clearing her throat.
"Fine, that bed it is. You'll like it. It won't take too much away from your minimalist aesthetic. I'll have it delivered by the end of the week."
She gives me a look and starts to walk away.
"Wait," I grab her by the wrist before she can get too far. She stops, and I drop her hand. "My one question."
Her shoulders lift as she takes a deep breath, bracing herself.
"OK. What is it?"
"The letter you sent me. You... you said you'd met someone else. Was that true?"
"Xavier. What's the point of all this? It's not going to change anything. Let's leave it in the past and move on..." She meets my eyes, and they tell her that there's no moving on. Not for me. Not without knowing. "No. It's not true."
"Oh my god, Malynda, then what happened?"
She holds up her hand, stopping me. I can't see her face.
"No more questions, Xavier. This was a mistake. I knew we couldn’t do this.”
I block her as she moves to run past me, and I know the only thing stopping her is the look in my eyes.
"I need to know what happened, Malynda. If you didn't meet someone else, then why did you stop me coming to New York? We had our whole lives together, a future ahead of us. It was all planned!”
"Sometimes things just don't go to plan, Xavier. Sometimes, they just don't."
Twelve
Her
"Another drink?"
"I think the one martini that's already gone to my head is plenty, thanks, Jade,” I say, shaking my head.
"It's on Ash Industries, we could have ten bottles of Dom and they wouldn't notice."
"I'm pretty sure they'd notice us showing up singing Broadway
musical numbers in the lobby. Again." Harriet, Jade's best friend and assistant, laughs.
I can't help but laugh along. The two ladies have a hilarious rapport and have had me in stitches all afternoon. They have that gift of showing their closeness without ever making me feel left out. I can't remember the last time I had such an enjoyable meal.
"Just a sparkling water for me,” I tell the waiter still standing by our table. He nods and carries my empty salad plate away with him.
"Anyway, back to the plans, Isabella, these are just amazing. And you really think it can be done with the budget we set?"
"Yes, in fact, probably a little less. I mean, see the way I've used these boards here? That'll cut down on some of the cost, but still look good. And be sturdy enough for whatever you've got planned for the center."
"The sturdier the better!" Jade laughs.
"Got it."
"Well, I'll run these by Kaine and the committee, and we'll go from there."
"Sounds great.” I’m pretty sure I’m beaming, and not just from the martini. I’m thrilled that she’s happy with what I’ve presented to her so far. I’m fast becoming attached to this project.
"Did I just hear my name taken in vain?"
We turn to see Kaine coming towards us. He's wearing an Armani suit and it's hard to look away.
That is, until I notice who's coming up behind him.
It’s Xavier, looking no less commanding, in just black shirt and slacks. He certainly grew out of his lanky frame, I can’t help thinking. His biceps threaten to bulge right out of his shirt sleeves and I have to force myself to look away before anyone notices I'm staring.
"Hello, Isabella. My bride here tells me that you are going to make us the envy of the downtown area." He looks directly at me, and I feel warmed by his crooked smile. I wonder how Xavier came to work for him.
