“She was insecure.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged her for the insecure type.”
“She thought you and I were a little too close. She wanted me to stop spending so much time with you. She said it made her look stupid.”
“You never told me that.”
“Eh, it didn’t matter that much to me so I moved on.”
I silently nod in understanding. Our friendship has made romantic relationships with other people complicated for us many times over the years, but none of those people were worth abandoning each other for. If our partners weren’t strong enough to accept our friendship, then they weren’t the right partners for us. At least that’s the way I always looked at it.
“I’m going to use the bathroom before we do our cool down.”
“You know where it is. Down the hall to the left.”
“Yep.”
I’m comfortable walking with bare feet to Rush’s first floor bathroom. His house is immaculate and his powder room has a pristine and spa-like quality to it. The entire bathroom is covered in cream marble tile with these taupe colored veins running through the stone. There’s a modern square sink with a shiny chrome waterfall type faucet and a toilet with a self-warming toilet seat. Even the disposable hand towels are fancy, each embossed with a gold B in the center. I don’t even want to use one to dry my hands because they’re so pretty.
It’s been a while since I’ve been inside of Rush’s house, but it’s clear that someone has added designer touches to the interior since I’ve been here last. Rush would have never thought to add things with this much detail in his guest powder room. It’s seriously making me wonder whether he’s sleeping with an interior decorator or a freakin’ host from HGTV.
After I reluctantly use one of the hand towels to dry my freshly washed hands, I exit to find Rush sitting at the bottom of his front staircase holding his bowed head in between his hands.
“Bacchetti, when did you hire a decorator? Your bathroom looks like something I’ve seen on an episode of Gossip Girl. I love it!”
But Rush doesn’t move an inch or make a sound.
And a feeling of dread envelops me.
Something is very wrong.
Twenty-One
MIA
“An email alertcame in on your phone,” Rush says in a deadly calm voice.
He’s wiggles my cell phone in his hand like it’s a smoking gun.
“It lit up like a Christmas tree, so it was hard to ignore.”
“Okay,soooo?” I say.
“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on with your building, Mia?”
Shit. Shit. Double shit.
“I’m handling it, Rush. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this.”
“I’m reacting like this because you’re not handling it!” he explodes. “You are on a month-to-month lease and they are choosing not to renew it because of back rent. And by the date of the first email in this string, it looks like you’ve known about this for quite some time.”
“That’s just their way of getting out, of bringing the building up to code. I made a complaint about the elevators and the fact that there is no handicapped entrance into the building and now they want to evict me. I don’t need the ramp, but what if I did? What about people who are in wheelchairs or use walkers?”
“The owner is completely within his or her rights not to renew your lease if you don’t pay the rent on time.”
“But they’re breaking the law by not having the elevators working.”
“I was just there, and they were working fine.”
