Page 23 of Not That Guy
The bell rang, and Weston left me to answer it. With her usual exuberance, Christine breezed in through the door.
“Hello, you must be Weston. I’m Christine Gigante. Thank you so much for taking care of Bren in his hour—or days as it looks—of need.”
Following on her heels was a burly man in a dark suit, hair buzzed close to the scalp. He carried two very large shopping bags. He stayed silent and watchful by her side.
“I’ve brought some food that should last you for a while. Omar will put it away if you show him to your kitchen.” She turned on her perfect smile.
“Oh, yeah, sure. This way.” Weston waved at Omar, who still hadn’t said a word but followed him.
I’d known Christine long enough to understand she wanted to be alone with me, and I attempted to unscramble my brain quickly enough to speak. She dropped her purse on the table in the entranceway, and her stilettos clicked fast and furious across the shining wooden floors as she hurried to my side.
“My poor baby. Look what those bastards did to you.” She kissed me hello, and her gleaming red nails touched my cheek.
Her eyes narrowed, and a devilish light brightened her eyes.
“Are you feeling any better? It’s so nice of your friend to help you out.
” She crossed her legs. “Tell me all about him.”
“You’re kidding. Don’t tell me you didn’t look him and his family up immediately when I told you I was staying with him.”
Her laugh was merry. “It’s like you know me, darling. Of course I did. A father who’s a presidential candidate?” Red lips curved upward, and her eyes danced. “How deliciously juicy. He’s gorgeous.” She leaned in close. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? You know I’m safe.”
Fear shot through me. “Tell you what?”
Her finely arched brows rose high, and she studied my face. “I see. Well, I’m glad you have Weston to help you, but you know you could’ve asked me. I would’ve sent someone over to your apartment to look after you.”
I imagined the hulking Omar, sitting silent in every corner, and I made a face. “Uh, thank you, but no thanks. I’m fine.”
“I’m sure you are,” she murmured.
Weston returned. “Christine, you do realize there are only two people here. You’ve brought enough food for a month.”
“Darling, we’re Italian. Food is love.” She patted the space next to her. “Come sit and tell me about yourself. I had no idea you and Brenner were friends.”
“I don’t know if you’d call us friends.” Savvy enough to understand what she was up to, Weston chose to sit across from us in the club chair. “We knew each other in law school, and now we work together. I have an extra bedroom, and I offered it to him to make it easier for him to get to work.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, considering you’re not friends. Doesn’t your girlfriend mind?”
“I wouldn’t know, since I don’t have one.” Weston grinned. “Is that a subtle way of asking if I’m single? The answer is yes.”
“Gorgeous and smart. What a stunning apartment. I wouldn’t have expected a single man to live in such elegance.”
The light dimmed in Weston’s face. “It was my mother’s. She grew up here in the city before she went away to school and met my father and got married. I inherited it when she passed.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know how devastating it is to lose your mother.” Christine sympathized, and West ducked his head, obviously still in pain. My eyes burned, recalling my foster mother and how she never got to see her dream of me graduating law school. My heart hurt for the three of us.
I watched Weston and Christine, but my mind was on Christine’s words. How the hell did she suspect something had happened between us? She’d always been way too insightful for me. I’d have to be extra careful around her.
“Are you with us?” She waved a hand in front of my face. “Or are you dreaming of something or someone else?” A knowing smile ticked up the corner of her mouth. “I have to get home to TJ, but it was wonderful to see you. Please take care of yourself.”
“I will,” I promised. “I see the doctor at the end of the week.”
“Good, although I think you’ll be fine in Weston’s very capable hands,” she purred. “Let me know if you need anything else. Weston, make sure he behaves. He can be very stubborn.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he listens to me.”
“I have no doubt. You look like a man who gets what he wants.”
Heat washed over me, and I scowled. “Didn’t you say you have a child to go home to?”
She picked up her purse. “Don’t be such a bear.” She leaned in to kiss me. “You smell nice. What a coincidence—you and Weston wear the same cologne.” Knowing eyes met mine, and my face burned. “We’ll talk soon.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Weston said, and Christine, followed by Omar, left the apartment.
Weston stood at the arched entrance to the living room.
It was a beautiful classic six apartment, only seen in true prewar buildings.
Although the kitchen and two bathrooms had been modernized, the interior architecture had been retained.
Crown molding in every room, inlaid wooden floors, and ceiling medallions framed old-style chandeliers, all befitting the grandeur of the apartment.
Exactly the kind of place I’d imagined he lived in, and one I’d never dreamed of being able to afford.
With this partnership, one day, I could.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I wasn’t kidding when I said Christine brought tons of food. We’ll be eating this into next week.”
I managed a faint smile. There was no way I’d be here, but I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “Yeah. I’m starving.”
He crossed the room to where my crutches lay propped against the side of the couch. “Let’s go to the kitchen.” He held out his hand, and I simply looked at it.
“I can do it, thanks.”
A faint red flush stained his cheeks. “Uh, yeah, okay.”
I needed to get out of there before I did something stupid. Like let Weston kiss me. And kiss him back.