It’s seriously depressing.
I slump my head against the passenger window and when a tear falls down the side of my face, Bronx unexpectedly uses the pad of his thumb to wipe it away. I didn’t even realize he was paying attention to me because he’s supposed to be paying attention to the road. I’m flabbergasted when my stomach does a somersault in reaction to his kind touch.
“He’s not worth crying over,” he says in his usual raspy voice.
“I’m not crying over him,” I say unconvincingly.
“Then whatcha crying about?”
“I hate being an inconvenience.”
“What are you talking about?” He takes a few turns, which brings us to a breathtaking office building complex. “You have no control over what your ex does. He’s a fuckup.”
“When I was a kid, I survived seven different foster homes because I stayed under the radar. I was quiet, I cleaned up with no one having to ask, I said please and thank you, and I tried my best to never be a nuisance or a bother. I shouldn’t have involved Ruby in this. My life is now disrupting and inconveniencing hers.”
“But she’s your friend.”
“She’s not actually my friend. She’s a coworker who kind of looks out for me.”
“That’s called a friend where I’m from. Either way, I don’t think it matters. Ruby isn’t going to dump you just because you have a crazy ex-boyfriend. Doesn’t every girl have one?”
I crack a small smile, because I think he’s trying to add some levity to the conversation, which is super interesting. He looks so bad ass, and always sounds so menacing (because of his throat), but underneath it all I think Bronx might be kind of funny.
“Ray’s embarrassing.”
“Ray is not your problem anymore.”
“How can you say that? He’s camped out at her place,” I reiterate. “Ruby’s already on thin ice with her wife and now this.”
“You’re not an inconvenience,” Bronx says firmly.
“I guess, but–”
“We’re here.”
He pulls into a private parking space behind one of the sleek, aluminum buildings with sharp edges and countless windows. I’m a little confused as to why we’ve stopped here when he told Ruby he’d be at the house in twenty minutes, but I just go with the flow.
“Are you going to your office?” I ask, totally confused.
I already know what Bronx does for a living, so it doesn’t make sense that he would have an office in a building like this.
“I live here.”
“In an office building?”
“You and Ruby don’t clean offices?”
“We do mostly residential properties, but what does that have to do with you living in one?”
“The average person doesn’t know this, but there are residential units in a lot of office buildings, and I live on the top floor of this one.”
“You mean the penthouse?” I blurt out, shocked at the revelation.
“What? I don’t look the type?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ve just never heard of people living in commercial buildings.”
The building features a sleek urban design from the outside and his apartment inside reflects the same cool aesthetic. The elevator doors open directly to an expertly decorated space with the same modern feel and cool silver and gray tones you’d expect to see in an upscale apartment like this. It’s also in pristine condition, and I wonder if he has his own cleaning service. I see little finishing touches that remind me of my own work.
