A month of us dancing around the question: what happens next?
In that month, I went up to Here once more, spending less time at On the Rocks and more time in Silas’s bed.I also started therapy sessions, which makes me cry a lot, but Silas has always been just a phone call away so I could sob to him over the phone or he could distract me by video calling me and giving Echo a new toy.
Now, the bass of Ginuwine’s “Pony” throbs through my apartment speakers as Silas runs a microfiber cloth along my bookshelf in slow, deliberate circles.He’s wearing the banana bathrobe—the one Hunter gave him as a gag gift eight Christmases ago—and absolutely nothing else underneath.I know because I checked.Thoroughly.
“This is not how you’re supposed to clean,” I say from the couch, watching him work.
“This is exactly how I clean at Buffed & Polished.”He does a hip swivel that makes the robe flare.“You’re getting the full experience.”
I’m wearing my own robe—a simple gray one that is a nearly comical contrast to Silas’s pink bananas.I changed into it as soon as I got off my last work call of the day.
The Thai food should be here in twenty minutes.We ordered too much, but that’s fine.Silas will be here for a few days, and we’ve got plans that don’t involve leaving the apartment.
This is shaping up to be the best Monday ever.
Silas moves to the kitchen, still doing that stupid sexy cleaning routine, and I’m contemplating dragging him to the bedroom when my phone rings.
I frown and reach behind me to grab my phone from my desk.
It’s Hunter.
I gesture wildly at Silas and somehow he gets the memo to kill the music.
I answer the phone.“Hunter.Hey.”
“Where are you?I’m likeminutesaway and you haven’t answered any of my texts.”
My stomach drops and my eyes widen.“You’re on your way?Why?”
The color drains from Silas’s face.We both look around the apartment at the same time.
His glasses on the coffee table.His running shoes by the door next to mine.The two wineglasses I’d just set out for later.His overnight bag visible in the bedroom doorway.
Us both in our bathrobes.
“Since the bar is closed today I was browsing Facebook Marketplace for skis, as one does in April, since people are either upgrading or spring cleaning.Anyway, this guy was selling a sweet pair of Nordicas that have barely been used...”
My brother keeps rattling on while I grab the wineglasses and run to the kitchen with them.Silas is throwing his clothes into his bag, bathrobe flapping all over the place.
I cover my microphone.“You need something to wear!”
“And there’s an accident on 87, and since I’m off tonight anyway, I thought, well, I’ll just stay the night at my favorite grump’s instead of sit in traffic for two hours.Okay, I just parked.I’ll be up in a sec.See you.”
My brother hangs up.
“We don’t have time.Silas, you have to hide.”
He’s hopping on one leg, pulling on his jeans.“What, all night?”
“The bedroom!”I hiss.“We’ll sneak you out.”
“I can’t hide in your bedroom like some?—”
Footsteps come up the stairs quickly—Hunter taking them two at a time—and then stop outside my door.
We freeze, staring at each other.
Silas is standing there in just his jeans, holding his banana bathrobe, looking at me with absolute panic in his eyes.
