When we finally pull up to his apartment building, I’m surprised when Melvin comes around to my side and opens the door for me. I laugh as I get out.
“I’m hardly the boss, Melvin.”
He grins. “I think everyone deserves to have a door opened for them once in a while.”
I rummage in the Whole Foods bag and hand him the brownie I bought.
“I thought you might want a sweet treat with your lunch or something,” I hand it over awkwardly, and Melvin gives me the biggest smile.
“Brownies are my favorite, thanks. I’ll have it with my tea this afternoon.”
I nod, heading inside as he gets into the car and drives away. I travel up to Crawford’s floor in the elevator, wondering what state I’m going to find him in.
Part of me expects him to be sitting on the sunken couch in his living room, pale, grumpy, and berating me for being late as he continues to work as usual.
I step out into his hallway but find only Alexis to greet me. She meows, trotting over to rub against my legs. I crouch down to pet her as the elevator doors close and the familiar, mournful cry of Gerald echoes through the hall. The peacock struts out of a back room, cocking his head at me and narrowing his eyes.
“I come in peace,” I say, holding my hands up as I rise, walking slowly into the apartment with both animals preceding me.
I listen carefully for any sound, but it’s totally silent.
I creep into the main room, expecting to find Crawford working somewhere, but it’s empty.
“Mr. Crawford?” I call, but there’s no reply.
I place the food I’ve bought on the counter and walk slowly through the apartment. I’m nervous about going upstairs without permission, but I can’t see him anywhere on this level.
I remember from the tour that Crawford’s bedroom is at the back, and, removing my shoes, I tiptoe up the spiral staircase and head to the door.
I stand outside his bedroom, uncertain whether to go in when Alexis pads silently up beside me and pushes the door open with her head. A wave of stuffy air hits me as I immediately see Crawford in the bed.
He’s on his back, chest bare, his phone lying on the floor as if he has fallen asleep while working. There’s a sheen of sweat on his torso, and the play of light from the window highlights the beautiful lines of his muscles.
I swallow—Jesus, what a view.
“Mr. Crawford?” I say gently as I step into the room, approaching the bed.
His face is relaxed in sleep, beautiful and soft, his mouth slightly open. I place my hand on his forehead, and it’s hot to the touch.
Walking into the bathroom, I soak a hand towel with cold water, wringing it out before heading back. When I return, Alexis is sitting on his legs. She meows at me as I gently shoo her onto the other side of the mattress. The bed is enormous, and she starts making biscuits on the comforter as I place the towel over Crawford’s forehead.
He mumbles in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open.
“’Melia,” he says, and my heart skips at the sleepy sound of my name.
“Have you taken your temperature?” I ask.
His brow furrows, and he coughs, gesturing to the side of the bed. “Drawer.”
I pull the drawer beside his bed open, unsurprised to see a bottle of lube and condoms strewn inside. I try not to think about the number of women he must have entertained between these sheets and pull out the thermometer.
It’s an infrared design, and I hover it over his forehead, the red light turns to green as it beeps, showing he has a temperature of 101.8.
“You’re sick,” I say, watching his eyes open wider.
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
