"He’s my landlord, sort of."
"You live here?"
"Yes."
The officer looked around, taking in the soiled mattress, the filthy couch, and the greasy floors.
"Where do you sleep?"
"On the couch."
Carter winced.
"So this man"—the officer motioned to Arnold, who rolled over and started snoring—"isn’t your boyfriend?"
"No, I am," said Carter.
"Since you aren’t cohabitating, miss, you are subletting illegally."
Allie’s face dropped into her hands.
"I won’t write it up if you vacate immediately."
"I can’t," she wailed. "I don’t have anywhere to go!"
"Yes, you do," Carter said. "Thank you, Officer. We’ll leave immediately."
"See that you do. I don’t want to have to come back here," the police officer warned.
Carter picked up Margot and her bedding. It was filthy from the apartment.
"I hope you don't have bedbugs, Allie," he said, wrinkling his nose.
"I keep all my stuff at the office. I just sleep here."
"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked, leading her down the stairs.
She started crying. "I'm not your problem."
She tried to hide her face from him, and Carter stopped on the landing and held her gently.
"Look," he said, wiping away her tears. "I… I care about you, okay? I’m going to look after you."
She shook her head. "That’s not what this is."
"Except that it is—this is happening. Come with me." He pulled her into the car after throwing the bedding into a nearby trash can.
"I can’t go to your family’s place," she said, her voice hoarse.
"You aren’t," he told her.
They pulled up in front of a fancy hotel.
"I cannot afford this," she said, wiping her eyes.
Carter ignored her and led her into the hotel.
"I need a room, please," he said, "and I have a dog, so charge whatever you need for that."
