A very large part of me is afraid he’ll tell me to go fuck myself and won’t want to have anything to do with me.
Or, worse, that he’s happily married and unavailable.
With a resigned sigh, I open the door wider and stand aside.
She walks in without hesitation.
Cristopher follows her withouta word, and he glances around as he enters my home. I’m sure he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Or, maybe he does. Maybe it’s not simply engrained habit, or training, but evaluating how far I’ve sunk into the pit of my despair.
The answer to that is pretty damn far, but at least I keep the place picked up so I’m not living like a damn slob.
Force of habit, more than anything. Habits likethat will keep me going and, hopefully, eventually get me another job before I run out of money.
He steps around the senator and heads deeper into the house without speaking, his gaze sweeping back and forth.
Meanwhile, in my front foyer, the senator turns to face me after I close the door behind them.
“After you.” She wears a smile that’d do Jaws proud.
