I glance over at her. She’s blushing, and it hits me how cute she looks when she does.
“I can’t let you out of my sight,” I add, forcing my voice back to neutral. “So you’re coming up with me.”
She doesn’t argue. She just stares straight ahead.
We fall into a hush again, and not long after, we pull intomy apartment complex. I park in my assigned space in the underground garage, and we both step out of the car, the awkward quiet still hanging between us.
We ride the elevator up to the thirty-second floor.
My apartment is a three-bedroom with an open layout. It isn’t a typical bachelor pad; it’s the kind of place a family could live in. I unlock the door and step inside. The entryway opens into a living room on the right and a large kitchen on the left—one I rarely use. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the back wall, overlooking the river and the high-rises on the opposite shore.
The hallway to the rest of the apartment is next to the living room. There’s a bathroom at the front, my office on the right, a guest room on the left, and my bedroom at the end of the hall.
“You can take a seat on the couch. This shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes,” I say as I head toward my bedroom, the one furthest away from the living room and kitchen. “If you’re thirsty, feel free to grab something from the fridge.” In my room, I shrug off my jacket and unbutton my shirt, changing into something more comfortable. I pull a duffel bag from the closet and start packing—shoes, socks, boxers, pajamas—then add two three-piece suits. I can always come back for more in a few days if I need to.
As I step into the bathroom, a prickle crawls up my spine. The unmistakable feeling of being watched makes me turn on instinct.
Vanessa stands in the doorway, frozen, eyes wide as she stares at me.
I smirk and give her a quick wink.
“Sorry, I was just looking around,” she says quickly, already turning away. “I’ll head back to the living room.”
“Do you like what you see?” I ask, smirking.
She blushes ever so slightly. “Uh—you have a nice apartment,” she says, then turns and quickly walks away.
I finish packing everything I need and walk out of my room dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a black T-shirt.
She’s sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone, when I step into the living room. I take an extra second to look at her; her lightly tanned skin beautifully contrasts with her red hair.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Sure.”
We head out of my apartment and back down to the car. The drive from Gino’s was quiet and awkward, and I’m not letting that happen again.
“What days do you work at the hospital?”
“I work Tuesday through Saturday and sometimes take extra shifts,” she says. “I’m also on call four days a month, usually on my days off, in case someone calls out or there’s an emergency.”
“You work nights, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. Eleven p.m. to eight a.m.”
I glance over at her. “Why did you pick the night shift? It seems like a shitty one.”
“I prefer it,” she says. “Ever since I was a kid, I stayed up all night, so working the night shift just made sense. I know what they say about the graveyard shift and how it can mess with your brain, but I really do like it.”
I huff quietly. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it, then, since I’ll be going with you.”
She turns to look at me. “You can’t come to the hospital with me. What are you going to do, sit in the waiting room all night while I work?”
“What part ofbeing with you at all timesdid you forget?” I say. “And yeah, I guess I’ll sit in the waiting room.”
She scoffs. “Do you know how weird thatwill look?”
“What will look weird?”
