“All good.”
We sit at the table and chat as we snack. He’s brought so many of my favorites—stuffed Greek olives, fluffy little empanadas, fresh strawberries. Normally, I’d be enjoying the feast, but right now, I’m just concentrating on not melting. I waft my hands in front of my face and hold the lemonade against my cheeks, but it doesn’t help.
“Ellie,” he says, staring at me. “Why are you wearing that big thick hoodie? And why is it so hot in here anyway?”
I shrug. “Um, is it?” I’m embarrassed by the fact that I’m wearing the hoodie to cover up in front of him. He’ll hate that.
He frowns at me. “Yeah. It is. How long has your AC been on the fritz?”
“Well, I guess I noticed it when I got home from work. I just thought maybe it was taking a while to kick in.”
“I don’t think so. And I think maybe you’re actually going to pass out if you get any hotter.” He sounds genuinely concerned, and now I feel like a child.
It’s late June, and the entire city of New York is frying in its own juices. It was fine in the office, because as you’d expect, Jamestech HQ is superbly well run and has the best AC known to the modern universe. But here, in my humble abode? Not so much. I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know I had, especially with this heavy cotton top I’m insisting on wearing.
What the hell is wrong with me? Maddox has seen me before. He’s seen me in my skin-tight gym clothes, in short shorts and that cute little flappy skirt that barely covers my ass. He’s even seen me in my slip one morning when he turned up early with breakfast. He knows what my body looks like, and he’s not going to judge me for the fact that it wobbles. I’m being ridiculous.
I pull the hoodie off in one swoop, and when my head emerges, he looks like he might be about to swear. He jumps up, says he’s got to make a call, and leaves the room.
Just what the hell was that about?
I’m a little cooler though at least, and I nibble on the strawberries while I wait. I’ve just dipped one into dark chocolate and have it halfway into my mouth when he comes back in. He stares at me, mouth agape. What the hell has gotten into him today. “You okay? Did I do something wrong?”
He shakes his head quickly. “Nope. Look, we can’t stay here and work like this. We can go to a bar, or my place if you like. Or just reschedule.”
He sounds harassed, and I hate that. I know how important this final stage of his plan is. He’s come up with his proposals and done his initial presentations—with some assistance from yours truly—and now he has the last few hoops to jump through. He’s been told he impressed the small business team at the bank, and now he has one final round of paperwork before the committee deliberates.
The guy he’s been dealing with gave him some extra advice, and this evening our job is to blend it all together. It’s not rocket science, but we will need to concentrate. Ideally, we’d eat, spread the paperwork out on the table, then spend the night making his proposal pop. Now, thanks to my crappy apartment, I’ve put a dent in our plan.
“I’m happy to come to your place,” I tell him quickly. I don’t want to let him down. “I know you’ve got that party tomorrow night anyway, so why don’t we just press on? Just give me a few minutes to make myself presentable.”
His eyes rake over me, and I expect him to say something Maddox-like.You look good just the way you are.
Instead, he just nods abruptly. “That might be a good idea.”
So, not only did something crawl up his ass today, it actually curled up there and died.
I change quickly, gather my laptop and charger, and we head out. Downstairs, we bump into Mr. Oliver, the building manager. “Ellie,” he says, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Is your AC out?”
“Yeah, it is,” Maddox answers before I can. “And it’s a health hazard in this heat. So how about you get it fixed.”
This is so unlike my friend that I am momentarily taken aback. Crawled up his ass, curled up and died, came back to life as a zombie, and did it all over again, I guess.
“Maddox,” I say, not raising my voice but staying firm. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. Mr. Oliver is already all over it, I’m sure.”
The middle-aged man sags a little, looking from Maddox to me with a worried expression. “I’m trying, honey, but it’s late, and I might not have the parts I need to get it fixed tonight. I’ll get on to the owner, though, and see about some fans?”
I do not object in the slightest to Mr. Oliver calling me honey. He’s a sweet man with an adoring wife and two teenage daughters, so I shoot Maddox a glance to let him know that he best not have a problem with it either.
To my relief he says nothing. Poor Mr. Oliver looks stressed enough without Maddox making it worse. “I’m off out for a while now, Mister O, but I know you’ll do your best. Let me know how you get on, okay?”
He nods, and Maddox and I walk out into a searing hot evening. “I’m sorry,” he says, before I can even open my mouth. “That was uncalled for.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to, big guy.”
“It is. For over-stepping. For trying to rescue you, as though you’re not capable of sorting out your own shit. But yeah, okay, I was rude. Shall I go back in and say sorry to him as well? Or should I, I don’t know, get him a bottle of Scotch or something?”
He sounds so genuinely remorseful that I can’t help but forgive him. Maddox really is a gentleman, and that was very out of character for him. I take his face between my hands and look into his eyes.
