It’s a strange phantom pressure that has me opening my eyes. Ted is awake and looking right at me. His scowl is softer than usual, like he’s studying me.
He leans in and kisses me. My god, his lips are perfect in a way that is indescribable. We’ve kissed before but this morning feels different. There is no anxiety or panic, only a relaxed acceptance.
Something at the back of my mind tries to remind me that I’ve sworn off men, that I should be Ms. Independent and spending every spare minute on getting the house together. I’ve cut through over half the grime and the house is really starting to shine now. But if I let myself get swept up in Ted, I could lose focus and end up abandoning yet another project and be more in debt than ever.
I melt into the kiss, savoring the feel of his lips on mine. His arms tighten around me. Surrounded by his heat, I want to be wrapped up in him, lost in his embrace forever.
But then, just as quickly as the kiss began, he pulls away, leaving me gasping for air. His eyes are intense, searching mine.
Downstairs, we make coffee, enjoying the post-coital bliss that makes me feel like I’m staring in a romantic movie.
We checked the cameras, and no one broke into my house. Seems like the crystals did their job. Which means, last night I simply blipped over to Ted’s because I wanted to be with him.
Red left messages she was on the road with Brexley for one of his jobs, but she did keep hearing about sirens and their tears being important, just like Kiki explained. Though she says finding out the particulars have proven to be more difficult.
It’s hard for me to imagine what it could possibly be. As an emotional human, I’d already spilled tears, mainly in front of Ted. I didn’t feel anything magical or strange about crying. They didn’t crystalize into diamonds or summon monsters but who knew what the hell would crop up next.
As for now, I soak in the blissful pause of events as Ted whips together culinary delights for me in his kitchen. Nutella-stuffed French toast and sausage links.
The cozy intimacy of his sun-filled (yet blissfully air-conditioned) kitchen is broken when a model thin woman with deep, warm brown skin enters the kitchen. She’s wearing a man’s shirt that has some kind of computer binary joke on it, and her hair looks like someone has been wrapping their hands in it. The bone structure of her face belongs on shop windows to advertise diamonds and expensive perfume.
Ted stiffens as he quickly looks out the front window as if searching for something, then he heaves a sigh.
“I smell coffee,” the goddess says. “I figured JJ was down here grabbing some for us, but I got tired of waiting.”
The need to cover up comes over me. The supermodel looks stunning, rumpled in a man’s shirt, while I’m scantily clad in my lace nightgown. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here when Ted assured me he sent Eli to work on one of his construction sites today.
“Cute nightie,” the girl shoots at me with an impressed smile.
Okay, I feel a little better now.
She returns her expectant gaze to Ted. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, like he’s bracing himself. My gaze swings back and forth between him and the supermodel.
“He, uh,” Ted checks the front window again as if confirming something. “JJ already went home.”
The girl’s nose wrinkles in the most adorable way. “But this is his home,” she says with a light laugh as if she is trying to catch up to the joke being played on her.
Except Ted clearly doesn’t think this is funny.
“He, uh, lives downtown, but he comes here when, uh. . . ” Ted stumbles over his words but comprehension dawns on both me and the supermodel.
“Oh,” she says, her tone turning frosty. “I see. Wants to make sure he can make a clean getaway.”
Ted goes on, “Please help yourself to some coffee and I’m happy to order a ride to come pick you up if you need—”
I’m caught between feeling this is better than any reality show I've seen and being horrified on the supermodel’s behalf. Suddenly the things Ted did to keep me away from JJ, the things he tried to warn me about his brother, it all comes into clear focus.
It’s almost insane to think I once believed Ted to be the villain, when he is anything but.
A dry bark that must have been a form of humorless laughter comes out of her. “Oh, so you’re his pimp? Sending the clients home after he’s done? No, thanks, I can afford my own ride of shame.” After that she whirls around and stomps back up the stairs to JJ’s room, slamming the door so hard the cabinets rattle.
Ted sinks into the chair next to me. I once thought he was impossible to read, but I now I easily read the tension around his mouth and recognize he’s in misery.
“So, that happen often?” I ask, looking at him over the rim of the mug.
Those forlorn eyes find mine. “Only almost every weekend and the occasional surprise weekday.”
I set the mug down with a clink. “Yeesh.”
