by Zoey Derrick
"Holler if you need me."
"Okay." I can't help the smile that spreads wider. For some strange reason, I can still sense him on the other side of the door. I sink underwater, giggling as the idea of Mikah making sure that I’m okay and that I stay okay hits me. It’s heady and mildly overwhelming, but at the same time it sends a ripple of happiness through me. Something similar to the way I felt in my dream.
ELEVEN
After what feels like forever, I finally climb out of the tub, warm and sleepy. After drying off, I put on the pants I pulled from the closet, noticing that they have a wide waistband that hugs my bump nicely. The pants are soft and comfortable. I forgo the bra, opting instead for just the t-shirt. Then I wrap my wet hair in a towel, grab my dirty clothes, and head out into the hallway.
I take a moment to really look around the apartment. Although it has rather expensive-looking electronics, it’s also very common: no fancy artwork on the walls, no fancy leather furniture. It has a homey feel to it. Is this the way it's always been, or was it done this way just for me? I’m struck by a sudden curiosity to see Mikah's apartment.
Only then do I notice Mikah on the couch, his laptop on his knees and a look of intense concentration on his face. He doesn't notice me until I get closer. There are very few lights on in the condo, which is nice, and he's drawn the shades on the large glass patio doors.
The TV is on, but muted. I can't tell what's on, but it looks like news or sports.
Finally he looks up and smiles. "Feel better?" he asks.
I smile back. "I feel great. Just going to go put my clothes away, and then do you mind if I join you?"
"Not at all," he says as he closes his laptop and places it on the table in front of the couch.
I go dump my dirty clothes on the floor of the closet near the Converse, and as I come back out toward the living room, I see the TV flickering as he changes channels, looking for something to watch with me. His bare feet are stretched out on the coffee table.
I stand quietly in the doorway and just watch. So normal, so mundane. Not something I'd picture a big-time businessman doing on a Sunday night.
After a couple of minutes of watching him, I walk quietly around the couch to sit on the far corner opposite him.
"I don't bite," he says playfully.
I turn and smile at him. "I know."
"Then why are you sitting all the way over there?"
I shrug. "It seemed appropriate." All the other times we cuddled together have been on his initiative, and I don’t feel comfortable pushing a boundary I’m not sure of.
He gestures with his outstretched arm for me to come closer to him.
A flash of excitement runs through me and I crawl across the couch toward him. I put my head on his shoulder and snuggle into him. It only takes a moment for him to bring his arm around me to rest his hand on my hip.
I let out a silent sigh of contentment.
"What would you like to watch?"
I shrug. "I don't care."
"Okay then."
He flips through a couple more channels and comes to settle on some show. My eyelids are very heavy so I'm not paying much attention. Before I know it, my eyes close and I'm asleep.
"Wake up, angel. Let's get you into bed." His voice is sweet. Wait, did he really just call me angel? "Come on, sleepyhead."
My eyes flutter just a little bit, but I don't want to move. I'm comfortable.
"Do you want me to carry you?"
I wiggle a little deeper into our cuddling. "No, just leave me here," I mumble.
He laughs. "Then where will I sleep?"
"Right here." I snuggle in a little deeper and hear his heart rate speed up. Unlike mine, it doesn't calm right away. But he continues to stroke my lower back, down near my hips, and I lean into his touch.
"See I knew you were awake. Come on, I'll carry you."
As he slides out from under my head and shoulder, I don’t fight it but I don’t help either, and I flop to the couch. I giggle a little bit and he reaches for my hand.
He pulls on my right arm and then is somehow lifting me. His other arm sweeps under my legs and just like that, he's carrying me. I don't put up a fuss, I just snuggle into his chest as he whisks me off to the bedroom.
TWELVE
The next morning I wake up rather early – five thirty, per the clock - and I fight hard for more than an hour to go back to sleep. When that fails, I climb out of bed.
I open the bedroom door quietly, remembering that Mikah’s sleeping on the couch and hoping I won't wake him. But I find Celeste in the kitchen and Mikah sitting at the breakfast bar. He's working again on his laptop, papers spread out before him covering about half of the bar.
Celeste catches my movement and turns in my direction. She doesn't say anything, but she smiles at me and Mikah notices. He turns around on the stool so that he can see me.
"Good morning," I say quietly.
His smile lights up the room, prompting me to smile back at him.
"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" he asks as I start to walk toward him, running my hand through my hair as I do.
"I did, how about you?"
"I did. Didn't mean to wake you, though."
I shake my head. "You didn't. I've been awake off and on since about five thirty, but I wasn't ready to get up."
As I approach, he holds out his arms slightly in invitation. I take him up on it, and he wraps one arm around me, turning back toward the bar.
Movement on his computer screen catches my eye: I see a bunch of numbers ticking by across the top. I point. "What's that?"
He smirks. "That is the stock market."
"The what?"
Celeste lets out a chuckle as she goes back to whatever she was doing before. "Seriously, Mikah, don't bore her with the stock market. It's too early for that."
Mikah chuckles, and I can't help but smile at their exchange. "You're right," he says and closes the browser window.
I gasp. The background on his laptop is the same ultrasound picture that was in the frame he gave me.
"Sorry," he whispers. "I..." He doesn't continue.
"It's alright," I whisper back.
"I rather like that picture," he says as he looks at it again. "I hope it's okay?" His voice is quiet, shy.
I just nod, surprised. Not only did he take the picture in the first place, but he had it enlarged slightly for my frame and it's also on his laptop. I'm not sure how to process this new information.
Celeste interrupts my thoughts. "How about breakfast?"
Mikah looks to me. I look back at him, a little wary about the picture, but I'm rather hungry. I nod.
Mikah releases my waist and starts to gather up all of his papers. He reaches over to the middle stool and pulls it out. I walk around him and take a seat.
Within seconds of my sitting down, Celeste places a plate in front of me with an omelet that has diced-up ham and cheese sprinkled all over it. Next to it are hash browns. It smells amazing.
While I admire my food, she sets a plate of the same in front of Mikah.
"I'll be back a little later to clean up," she says as she leaves the apartment.
"Where is she going?" I ask, curious.
"To my apartment. She's not one to pry while others are eating," he says and smiles at me. "Eat up."
Picking up my fork, I dive in as my stomach begins to rumble.
Once we've finished eating, Mikah is quick to clear the bar of our dishes, placing them near the sink.
"Would you...would you like some hot chocolate?" he asks.
I give him an amused look. "You drink hot chocolate?"
He turns to me, smiling. "No, I drink coffee, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.”
"I'd love some hot chocolate."
He turns and reaches for a cupboard door. Inside are all manner of plates, bowls, glasses, wine glasses, and mugs. He grabs two mugs and then reaches for the kettle on the stove. Sliding to the left of the stove, he opens ano
ther cupboard; I can't actually make out its contents because he grabs something and closes it quickly.
He goes back to where he left the mugs. I can't see from this angle what he's doing, but watching him move about the kitchen, making me hot chocolate, has me thinking about how thoughtful and caring he is.
A couple moments later I hear the clinking of silverware against ceramic, then the noise stops and he turns around with a mug in each hand.
"Here you go." He sets them down on the bar.
I smile as I pick up the purple and blue mug. It's comfortably warm to the touch, and I can see little billows of steam rising.
He turns to put the stirring spoon in the sink. “Would you...” As I blow across the top of my hot chocolate, he takes a deep breath and starts again. “Would you like to see my apartment?" he asks with his back toward me. I see the tension in his back and shoulders and can feel it in the air.
"Of course," I say, and he relaxes. I'm not sure why he is so worried about me seeing his apartment. "I'd love to." I put the mug down without taking a sip, push back from the bar and stand up. I feel a little dizzy, but I recover quickly. "I'll go change," I say.
"No need, just grab your slippers. It's right upstairs," he says, finally turning to look at me. His eyes are bright and he's excited. So why the tension?
"Alright, I'll be right back."
I move quickly toward the bedroom, a little excited to see his apartment. Curious to see what Mr. Suit lives in. I have no doubt that this apartment was furnished with me in mind. All the furniture here is soft and comfortable, normal and everyday. Is his apartment like this too?
I grab my slippers from the closet and step into them, then turn off the bedside light before heading back into the living room.
As I come back out of the bedroom with my slippers, he hands me my mug. "You can bring that with us. Are you ready?"
I nod as I blow across the top of the mug and finally take a sip. It's really good.
"Come on, sweetheart," he says, and I follow him to the door.
I smile at the term sweetheart, something so simple yet so powerful at the same time. He's called me sweetheart before, but somehow, here in this apartment, it means more.
THIRTEEN
Connor is standing on the other side of the door when Mikah opens it. "Good morning, sir," he says quickly.
"Good morning, Connor. We're just going up to my apartment."
Connor nods quickly and steps aside.
Mikah and I head down the hall and Connor, thankfully, doesn't follow.
When we reach the elevator, Mikah slides a card in a reader over the arrows and presses up. "I'll give you this card. In order to come upstairs, you need to swipe it, then press the up arrow. You're welcome upstairs anytime you want," he says as the elevator chimes and the doors open.
Once again I notice that I'm standing slightly behind Mikah as we step inside the elevator.
Mikah pushes the button for the seventh floor and the doors close. He switches his mug from his right hand to his left, then slowly brings his arm down to his side. His fingers brush against the back of my hand. I turn it slightly, opening it to him, and he takes it into his. A charge develops between us and I can't stop myself from smiling.
The elevator chimes again and the doors open on a small entryway, about ten by ten feet. Andrew is standing in front of the only door.
"Good morning, sir," Andrew says. He directs a friendly smile at me. "Good morning, ma'am," he says sweetly, and I know I blush crimson.
"Good morning," I say back shyly as Mikah lets go of my hand and reaches for the door.
We step into a small hallway and Mikah releases my hand to close the door behind us.
"Does he always stand there?"
Mikah grins. "No. I'd mentioned to Celeste before you woke up that I might bring you up here. She obviously told them, and they made adjustments. Security on my floor is tighter than on yours. You really can only access this floor by keycard, the pass code does not work." He's looking at me with a reassuring look on his face. "There are cameras throughout this building. Anytime seven is pressed, it activates an alarm in Red's apartment, one on his phone, and a video feed showing who is in the elevator. He also has a control to stop the elevator if someone who should not be here managed to gain access."
Holy crap, it's like a fortress in here. Suddenly I feel safer than I've ever felt in my entire life. I know my eyes are wide and Mikah can sense my immediate mood change.
"I will let nothing happen to you," he says then smiles. "Come on, let’s have a look, shall we?"
I nod and he takes my hand again.
The hallway is similar to mine, only shorter and with only one door on the left-hand side. We reach it, and Mikah opens it up.
We go through the door into a living room that has plush gray carpeting, a coffee table, an L-shaped couch similar to the one downstairs, and a massive TV surrounded by speakers. Shelves beneath the TV hold a ton of movies. The lone door on the opposite wall is closed. I turn around to find that the door we've just come through is flanked by two massive bookshelves stacked full of books.
"Do you like to read?" Mikah asks me softly.
"I love to read," I reply and walk toward the shelves. When you do anything you can to avoid being at home, sometimes the library is the only place you can go. The books are arranged in alphabetical order by author and range in type from thrillers to romance to classic literature. "You have good taste," I say as I pull out Louisa May Alcott's Little Women.
I hear him snicker. "I suppose. I have several books, including that one, that were my mother’s."
I gently place the book back on the shelf.
"You're more than welcome to help yourself to anything you see here. If there is something you'd like to read that isn't here, let me or Celeste know and we will get it for you."
I look over my shoulder at him. "There are more books here than I could ever imagine in one private library. I'm sure I can keep myself entertained with this lot."
As I turn to face him, he heads toward the door on the opposite wall and opens it to reveal a hallway. I go through, and he follows close behind.
The floor here is hardwood, and this hallway is longer than the one on the other side. An open door directly in front of me reveals a toilet and sink. Then I notice a closed door to my left.
"That leads to the stairwell and is often what Red uses to come upstairs," Mikah says.
He leads me toward the right. We pass by a couple of closet doors along the left wall, and then the hallway opens up into a rather large space. The wall in front of me from here to the end of the room is made entirely of glass, and on the other side is a large patio with the same view of the river as I have from my patio downstairs. At various points all along the glass wall there are doors that lead out onto the patio.
The room itself is cavernous, with ceilings at least two floors high. The floor is a beautiful light hardwood that stands out against the dark furniture. Between us and the patio is a large dining room table set for eight, and at the far end of the room to the left is a sitting area, with tall chairs in a loose circle formation around a coffee table. To the right is the kitchen, done in the same cupboards and countertops as my apartment: dark wood cabinets and black countertops with stainless steel appliances. I put my mug on the counter.
Behind me I hear a door click open. I turn toward Mikah, who has been silent while I’ve been looking around his apartment.
"And this is my bedroom," he says, and again I see the tension in his features.
He flips on a light. I cross over to him and take a step into the room, and my heart stops.
FOURTEEN
I can't focus on anything besides the king size, four-poster bed that dominates the room. It's the bed, the one from the dream I had the other night at the hospital. The one where...
I let the thought end there as the image of Mikah and me, cuddled inside this very same bed with its tall canopy and stacked block posts, fills m
y mind.
I look to Mikah, who is still tense. Was he in that dream, too? Did he see us as I saw us?
"It's beautiful," I breathe, and he relaxes. I’m not sure whether he’s tense because he is showing me his room or whether it has something to do with that dream.
"The closet and bathroom are to your left," he says, and something is different in his voice. It's almost husky.
I look in that direction and see a large opening into a closet area. His clothes are hung neatly, shirts across the top bar and pants and jackets along the bottom bar. But I don’t stare too long; closets and bathrooms are personal space.
I look back to the bed once again and wonder: Will that be me? Us? Someday, one day soon? I remember from the dream that I was much larger than I am now, nearing the end of my pregnancy. But Mikah in the dream was just as sweet then as he is today. Tender in a very un-masculine way.
Mikah takes me through the rest of the house, leading the way back across the main room into a guest bedroom on the other side of the house and then his office.
As we come out of the office back into the main room, he comes to a sudden stop. "Hello, Red."
I peek around the doorjamb. Red is standing near the breakfast bar.
"Hello, sir. Vivienne," he says and nods in my direction.
"Hello," I say quietly.
He smiles and turns back toward Mikah. "Chrys is here. Shall I have Andrew bring him up?"
Mikah looks quickly to me then back to Red. I can feel my brow furrow.
"Give me about five minutes, then go ahead and bring him up," Mikah says to Red, but he is still looking at me.
"Yes, sir," Red says and walks toward the entryway.
"Who's Chrys?" I ask as soon as Red is out of sight.
Mikah takes a couple of steps into the sitting area in front of his office.
"Chrys is my lawyer. The one I'd like you to talk to about..."
"Do I have to?" I ask.
"No, you don't. But Stevens will be here around one. I’d like you to have some time to discuss things with Chrys before Stevens arrives. I’d like Chrys to be present while Stevens is here.”
