by Sandy Smith
I swallowed and waited for him to continue.
“I wanted to think some things through and look at some options so that I could have things in place before going home.”
“Home?” I asked quietly, my eyes screwed shut. “You’re moving back to London?”
“What? No, you git! Jesus, baby. No.”
“I’m confused. Please tell me what’s going on.”
“London hasn’t been my home for a long time. And you know I never really considered Sydney, or anywhere, my home, for that matter. But, Ky, you are.”
“Huh?” I asked intelligently.
“You, Ky. You’re my home. I don’t care how trite that sounds. It’s true. When I got notice the owner of the apartment in Sydney wanted to move in, I realized I didn’t care where I lived, but… I mean, it’s up to you, of course, and… if you don’t want to, that’s fine. Perhaps I’m rushing things… but…” He stopped and took a loud breath.
“Ky, what I’m trying to ask you in my own daft way is I don’t care where I live, but I want to be with you. Wherever you are is my home, so… would you consider looking for a place together and moving in with me?”
“Notice… you got… you want… I…” I stopped babbling and tried to collect my thoughts. “You want us to move in together?”
“Yes. Ky, I know I sort of sprung this on you, so you will need time to thi—”
“Yes!” I shouted, cutting him off. “Yes, God, that would be perfect. I’d love to live with you. I don’t care if it’s quick.”
We spent the next hour talking about location. I didn’t care where. I didn’t care if we were rushing into this. I didn’t care what the place was like. Although I didn’t want to feel like it was so extravagant I wasn’t even contributing. He didn’t give a damn and wanted me to go pick. In the end, we hadn’t made any decisions, but I promised him I would think about it. He explained some contract hold-ups were pushing the finalized plans back. Nevertheless, he swore that one way or another, he would see me before Christmas.
Reluctantly, I agreed to go with Eric to look at a couple of apartments. It seemed a bit pointless, given I had no idea what we were looking for. I had asked Nick for some ideas or guidelines, but his response wasn’t overly helpful.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hey,
I know you’re busy, but when you have two seconds, could you give me some idea what we’re aiming for? Area? Features? I’m flying blind here, and Eric is not taking no for an answer. I’m stuck with him on Saturday. Please save me.
Ky
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
Baby,
I’m sorry about Eric (you would not believe the number of times in my life I have had to say that sentence—or maybe you would). My needs are quite simple. I honestly don’t mind, but if it will make it easier, then here are my thoughts
1: A large bathtub. I like watching you soak.
2: A kitchen with an area so I can sit and watch you when you cook.
3: A shower large enough for both of us.
4: A balcony that you can sit on when you read the paper—you always had to have your legs tucked up at that tiny table at your place.
5: A spare room for Tim and Rhiannon to stay in when we go out.
6: Not so many rooms that Eric feels he is allowed to stay.
7: Not in the same building as Eric.
8: Not on the same block as Eric.
9: A confusing building name or address that will make it hard for Eric to find.
10: A lease of no more than six months initially.
If you find anything that interests you and fits the above, please email me photos. Photos of you in the rooms so I can imagine it.
I miss you like crazy,
Yours, Nick
I chuckled at the list until I got to number ten. Why only six months? If us living together didn’t work, it made sense not to be locked in, I guessed.
I had barely opened another email window to reply to Detective Harris about some questions he had with our crossover cases when another email came in.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
Dude,
Harsh. And most of those times, no apology was required. Ok, some of those times. Ok, the time I congratulated the woman in the lift and asked when the baby was due, and she said she had it two weeks ago. That didn’t need an apology. That was a reasonable mistake.
Anyway, that list sucks. You suck. Probably badly, but Ky pities you so doesn’t tell you that you suck at sucking.
And speaking of sucking, WTF is with #10? Way to say I don’t have faith that this is going to last. I mean, I know he is too good for you, but if you are already having doubts, maybe wait a bit.
Anyway. It looked bad.
And WTF did Aaron just say about Byron Bay being a bad investment? Seriously. He is off the Christmas card list.
E
Then, two minutes later, another email from Eric, obviously answering one from Nick I hadn’t seen.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
Fuck. Sorry, dude. I hate reply all. Can we talk to IT about having that option removed?
E
And again a reply from Eric to another unseen email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
OK. Fair point. We don’t have an IT department.
Hey. Can we hire an IT department?
E
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
Gentleman,
As much fun as this has been, I have to get back to work. If you two do not have enough work to keep you busy, perhaps you could just discuss Nick’s cold feet in private.
And Eric. YOU ARE STILL HITTING REPLY ALL. IT’S A DIFFERENT FUCKING BUTTON DUDE!!!!
Ky
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
I’m sorry. Really. Nicholas just stormed out of the meeting. I really am sorry, dude.
Eric
My phone started ringing while I was still reading the email.
I stood and walked away from my desk as I answered. “Nick, babe, please tell me you didn’t just storm out of a meeting?”
“Ky, it was never about cold feet. Love, I swear to you.”
“Nick, baby.” I raised my voice to get his attention, but a sound behind me made me realise that I had also gotten the attention of the entire room. I glanced back to see a dozen sets of eyes on me: some amused; some curious; and a couple, including Grayson, who was standing only a few metres from me, uncomfortable. I glared at him silently until he walked away.
“Nick, I wasn’t upset with you. I was responding to Eric. Seriously, that man is a pain in the arse. How do you put up with him? And how the hell does he run a company? And Nick… I didn’t think you had cold feet…. well, I mean, I did, for a whole five seconds, but…. But then I remembered I’m an idiot.”
There was silence on the line, long enough for me to check the screen to see we were still connected. “You’re not an idiot. But it also wasn’t cold feet. I guess sometimes I forget when I have conversations with myself in my head, you aren’t privy to that information. I hadn’t realized how that would look. Now it sounds weird to say this out loud. But I… Okay, I had thought at some stage in the future, we would consider buying a property rather than renting, but that conv
ersation seemed a little serious to have via text, so I thought I would wait. There is so much I want to say to you, but I want it to be in person, not on the phone. And I didn’t want you to feel I was rushing you, and I didn’t want you to feel I was expecting something you may not be comfortable with, and I…” He finally took a breath. “Sod it. It wasn’t cold feet, okay? My feet are toasty warm.”
“Nick?” I asked. Although his rambling was beyond adorable, I was curious now.
“Mmm?”
“How did Eric know you had stormed out of a meeting?”
He sighed. “We were on a video conference with our Sydney and Melbourne management teams. I’m never going to hear the end of it.”
Spending Saturday with Eric was far less painful than I feared. I did wonder if Nick had made him promise to behave. Each place he took me to was a little ridiculous. I mean, they were stunning, with views across the harbour, main bedrooms bigger than my whole apartment, and kitchens you could run a restaurant out of. They all looked like something out of a magazine. Beautiful. But not real. I was torn. I would never be able to pay half the rent on one of these places. Not in a million years. And I didn’t want that to bother me, but it did. But I also didn’t expect Nick to live in a dodgy shoebox because of my vanity. If I had to choose between Nick and my pride, I knew he would win hands down every time. I simply needed to remind myself sometimes.
Eric insisted on taking photos of me in each place to show Nick, which I happily endured. Well, not happily, but I tried to keep my complaining to an understated grumble. Once we finished, we went to Riley's for an early dinner and a drink. As much as I picked on Eric, I was glad Nick’s best friend was someone I could get along with, someone I could spend time with.
We chatted about what Eddie and Elly were up to. I only vaguely remembered his sister Elly as being beautiful, but I never really spoke to her. She was always floating around with a group of giggling girls. Turns out she was not the airhead she appeared to be and had a YouTube channel where she did makeup tips, fashion reviews, and some sort of Agony Aunt advice blog called Elly’s Ear. Sounded vaguely juvenile until Eric told me she earned more than him last year.
Eric was his usual bubbly happy self, but when the topic turned to me, and by extension Nick, he sobered. “I worry about him in Hong Kong by himself. I really need him to be back here.”
Not realising he was so serious, I joked, “What’s wrong? Can’t work out how to balance the books without him?”
He frowned, which was unusual for Eric, then pushed the uneaten food around his plate. “Don’t be like everyone else.”
Now I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Sorry. I know Nicholas comes across as kind of—I don’t know—not unfeeling, maybe a little reserved. But that’s not him at all. He never really promotes himself. You probably have no idea what he even does, do you?”
“Well no. I mean, I know he looks after the financial side of things and some separate investments. He has talked about some of it, it’s just a little above my head. But you know what, Eric? Maybe I don’t understand, but honestly, what he does isn’t all of him anyway. It’s what he does, not who he is, and I don’t know why that is what I should judge him for anyway.”
Eric smiled. “I remember why I liked you so much.”
I scoffed. “You hated me.”
“I really didn’t. But anyway, I only meant he is more than what he shows people, that’s all. So, like, he does full assessments on any company we consider doing business with. Not just whether they can fulfil the contract, but the financial viability of the company. So… do we reasonably expect them to still be capable of fulfilling the contract in five to ten years? Ones that we work with, he assists them if they need it too, because something as simple as a linen manufacturer closing up can affect us. Changing linens for a whole chain is incredibly expensive, so he works with them too. The investment thing is very much a sideline for him from an emotional point of view, but he still takes it seriously. It’s our future. But Allegra is our baby. It’s as much his as it is mine, even if he calls himself an employee. So, yeah, the investments are important financially, and his record far outperforms the top investment firms in Sydney, which is beyond impressive, but it’s not his, if you know what I mean. I think he only looks after mine, Eddie’s, Elly’s, Jason’s, his own and a small handful of investors.”
“Jason?” I asked.
Eric smiled. “I’m not sure if you’ve met him. Jason’s our driver. He drives for hotel, but he primarily works for us.”
“Oh, yeah. Middle-aged, good with bow ties? He drove us to the Crystal Ball.”
“That’s him. He worked for my dad when I was a teenager.”
I nodded, a little surprised at some of what he told me, but then I remembered a few conversations which made more sense now.
We chatted about work. When I asked about the Byron property, he laughed. “Actually, we just exchanged on that last week.. I kept putting them off while Nicholas is away, and apparently, they thought we were pulling out. Turns out the other interested party bought in Queensland instead, so they dropped their asking price.”
The Byron property led to other topics, and before I knew it, it had gotten dark. I thanked him for helping me today. And I meant it. I was surprised to admit I’d really enjoyed spending the day with him. We headed our separate ways, and Eric promised to email all the photos of the properties to Nick.
Later that night after I had been for a run, a text came through from Nick.
Hey, love. I like the look of the one with the large balcony. I think it was Woolloomooloo. Or either of the Elizabeth Bay ones are nice. Not sure about the city one. Just that block would be really noisy. Eric said he had fun. Can’t wait to see any more you find.
I had fun too. I miss you.
Over the next few days, I got a couple of texts that didn’t make a lot of sense, but after seeing eight properties on Saturday, I kind of lost track.
Hey, love. I’m not sure about the one close to the freeway, but if the bathroom facilities were that exceptional, then maybe.
Hey. I’m not a colour expert, but I’m not keen on the orange and pink.
I’m glad you liked it, but maybe a little closer to work.
I agree nostalgia is important. Is there anything a little bigger in that area?
Finally on Tuesday, I thought I was going insane.
Babe, if the green and brown one really appeals, then have a second look, but just don’t sign anything, okay? Can we maybe get a new door on that bathroom?
Nick, baby, I have no idea what any of those texts mean. Give me a call when you have time.
Just after dinner, Nick called, just a bit apprehensive. He finally admitted he had some concerns about some of the properties I was really excited about over the last few days. When I couldn’t make sense of which properties he was talking about by the descriptions, he forwarded all the emails from Eric so we could compare notes.
Oh my God. That fucking bastard!
The first four emails on Saturday were the four properties I really liked, and then Sunday he sent the four I wasn’t so keen on. Then, over the next two days, he had Photoshopped my photo onto random houses, getting progressively worse and worse. The last one was a “renovator’s delight,” according to the real estate agent. The combined kitchen/lounge area was painted a few shades of green with brown Formica bench tops. A screen wall separated the bedroom from the kitchen, with only a shower curtain hanging in the doorway to enclose the bathroom from the rest of the apartment.
At first, I wanted to be pissed at Eric, but the way he had managed to pick the right photo of me to Photoshop for each location so that even the shadows and lighting worked was actually quite impressive.
“Oh, I don’t know, baby. The brown and green are so retro.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his silence before explaining what Eric had done.
Nick vowed revenge, and the scenarios he came up with were quite frightening in
their complexity. We chatted about the real properties for a little while.
“Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“I really don’t want to choose something by myself. I want it to be ours.”
“I… umm, Ky, we should have done Facetime. I miss you. Could you take a selfie and send it to me? I want to imagine I’m sitting with you while we talk.”
“Sure, I guess.” So I put him on speaker and took a couple of photos before I was happy with one, then sent it to him.
When I took the phone off speaker, he said in a quiet voice, “That’s perfect. I want that one.”
“Sorry?”
“That’s the one. That’s where I want to live with you until we find our own place, together.”
Then I realized what he meant: why he wanted a selfie of me sitting in my lounge room.
“Nick, are you sure? I mean, I know it’s further for you to get to work, but it wouldn’t be forever. And I know it’s small, but...”
“Ky. Baby. You’re there. It’s perfect.”
Chapter Twenty-One
My phone rang at two in the morning. I stared at the item making the noise, trying to work out what to do to shut it up. Then I remembered to swipe the screen. It took another five or six seconds to say my name.
“Rixon,” I grumbled.
“I’m coming home!”
I blinked. Then, I blinked again. Then I wiped my eyes. And I blinked some more.
“Ky, love, are you there?”
“Nick? Yeah, yes, I’m… what did you say?”
“I said I’m coming home. Contracts exchange on the twenty-second, so I’ll be home by Christmas Eve. God, I’ve missed you so damn much. Maybe you could meet me somewhere to celebrate Christmas. Where do you want to go?”
“Umm. I don’t know… I… well, I’m only off work twenty-fourth to the twenty-seventh, and I…”
