Her eyes widen in something like alarm.
“That was a joke! I’ll make it, okay?”
“I’m warning you, I’m not a very competent cook,” she mumbles, and just like that she’s back to not meeting my eyes again.
Damn. I get the impression there’s so much going on beneath the surface with Sadie, and if we’re going to make living together work, I’m going to have to find a way to help her feel a lot more relaxed when she’s talking to me.
Chapter 8
Sadie
The red brick of the lovely old warehouse that houses Des’s apartment rises like a sentinel in front of me, and I peer at the address on my phone. It’s farther down Water Street from the office, where two or three cobbled streets sit close to the waterfront, like the last remnants of an old guard holding out against the onslaught of the towering steel and glass of the Financial District behind it. I can see the struts of the Brooklyn Bridge at the end of the road.Is this real?My cheeks burn as I gaze down at the fraying straps of my backpack and the places where the protective plastic coating is peeling off. I grabbed this bag and some paltry belongings when I was escaping Jake. Nobody seems to have noticed that I’ve been wearing the same black polyester pants for the last three days.
At some point, I’m going to have to talk to Mom about Jake and the fact that I’ve moved out. Thankfully, she seems happy that my new job needs me close by, even if it’s not quite the truth. I sigh as I tighten my grip on the handle of my backpack. When I step inside, a small desk sits just past the doors. The guy behind it straightens, taps the badge clipped to his shirt, and tells me his name is Darius and that he keeps an eye on everyone in the building. He hands me a tag and tells me it works the elevator and that James told him I was moving in today, so I can head on up to the sixthfloor.
When I reach the sixth floor, I glance right, and the door to an apartment is open at the end of the corridor. James’s head pops out, smiling.
“Hey, Sadie! How was your trip here?”
His dark hair is slightly ruffled, and, as he steps farther out, his usual work outfit of chinos and a button-down has been replaced by an old, faded T-shirt and ripped jeans that mold to his wide shoulders and long legs. My stomach dips. What planet was I on when I thought I could live with James? Or when I let Des and him persuade me into it?
“Good, James. Thanks,” I say, trying to stop my eyes from drifting down his body.
“Is that all you’ve got with you?” he says, and my eyes dart to his face to find him frowning at my backpack.
Damn. I can’t tell him I ran away from my stepdad in some crazy late-night escapade because he touched my ass. He’s already guessed the face bruise came from Jake. I hope Des hasn’t told him I’ve been living in a hostel for the last few days like some loser with no home to go to.
“Yeah, I’ll bring some more of my stuff here in a bit. I brought something easy to start me off.”
“Sticking with the agreed two weeks, huh? I’ll try not to be too unbearable as a roommate.” He winks at me, stretching his hand out to take my bag.
My face heats. The idea that I might not want to live here becausehe’sdifficult … He’s the nicest and easiest guy on the planet.
“I can come home with you and help you move the rest of your things if you like,” he adds as if he’s trying to prove that he reallyisthe nicest guy.
But James coming to my mom’s rundown apartment in Queens? Yeah, that isneverhappening.
Des appears behind him, and I suck in a breath as I take in their warm, handsome faces. How did Slow Sadie get here? A place in the Financial District with two of the best guys I’ve ever met? Well, Des is moving out, but still … I swear on my Brandon Sanderson books that I’m not going to let my life in Queens bleed intoanyof this.
“Come in, come in,” Des says, and they both move back as I step forward.
Des’s eyes dart down, and he gawks at my bag. “Now I know you’re a real techie. Just a laptop in there, right? You could give my sister Marla some lessons in traveling light.”
Before I can come up with an appropriate reply, my gaze snags on the living area behind him. A wood-beamed ceiling stretches out toward a set of windows along one wall, and there’s a large, squishy couch, chairs, and a glass dining table. Whoa! I’ve never seen anything like this. Huge black-and-white pictures of New York adorn the walls, some of them are photos of …
“Is that you?” I say to Des.
James laughs. “Yeah. He asked if I wanted them taken down, but I quite like them. Alex likes taking photographs and takes loads of Des, the city, and himself sometimes, too. Documenting his life all the time, he said.”
“For my sins.” The dry voice comes from down a corridor, and a handsome dark-haired guy appears. The same one I spotted in the office that one time. The expression on Des’s face when he looks at him makes my breath catch.
“I can take them down if you like,” Des says, turning back to me, and I almost choke. Take them down forme? Is he kidding?
I examine one of a polished laced shoe and a hand, all shades of brown and golden light. “That’s beautiful.”
Alex beams, and James grins. “Now that one … you want to tell the story, or should I?” Alex says, tilting his head at Des, who snorts.
“It’s the photograph Alex sent me after the first time we met. I had no idea what it meant, what this guy I’d just spent a lovely evening with was up to. I showed it to James because it threw me for a loop.” He studies the picture. “I like having the reminder of where it all started.”
