Page 27 of Not That Guy

My door was closed, so I took the chance and touched him. A simple hand on his arm, but I heard his breath hitch. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I said nothing .” He wrenched away and opened the door. “Have a nice weekend.”

I watched him leave without trying to stop him.

If he’d wanted to talk to me about it, he would have.

I had no desire to chase after him. One thing I’d learned in our brief time together was that despite our differences, we were very similar.

If we didn’t want to talk about something, we wouldn’t, and no amount of pressure would change our minds.

Of course I’d forgotten about my friend Christine, who called to find out how I was feeling. At least that was her claim, but I knew otherwise.

“Darling, that’s wonderful. I’m glad you’re healing. And how is that gorgeous roomie of yours?”

“He’s not my roomie, as you so quaintly put it. In fact, I’m moving home tonight. I just have to pack up some things.”

“That’s not a good idea. What if you fall? Who’ll be there to pick you up?”

I laughed. “I’m not a frail ninety-year-old. I’m fine.”

“And how does your friend feel about it?”

“Weston? He doesn’t care. I’m sure he’s glad to have the place to himself.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. Anyway, let me send you Omar to help with your things.”

I was about to protest but decided not to. It would be bulky to have to wheel my suitcase and carry my laptop as well. “Okay, thanks.”

“I’m shocked. You finally agreed to something without me having to twist your arm.”

A swift check of my watch showed it was close to three p.m. “I’ll be ready around six. Can you send him to Weston’s building then?”

“That’s perfect. Ciao .”

I hung up, no longer in a bad mood. I finished up my work for the day and left for the weekend.

Weston’s office door was closed, and I didn’t bother to knock to tell him I was leaving.

We’d said everything necessary. By six I was ready and waiting in the lobby, and I watched as a black car pulled up.

Omar the mountain man came and took my belongings to the trunk, then opened the car door for me.

I slid inside, and why was I not surprised to see Christine in the back seat with me? “Funny, I had this feeling…” I shook my head.

“Does that mean I’m becoming predictable? I need to step up my game.” We took off, and we were soon bumping downtown on the FDR drive. “You had to know I’d have questions.”

“And you think I’m going to give you answers?” I joked.

“It didn’t take a mind reader to see that something was going on between you and Weston.”

While weighing how to answer, I cast a glance toward the front seat, and again Christine read my mind. “There’s a divider. He can’t hear anything unless I push the button.”

I heaved a long sigh. “I’m not sure what’s going on. We’re friends but not really.”

“I’m not talking about friendship. Are you lovers?”

Recalling Weston’s mouth on my dick and his unbridled, passionate response, I wanted to say yes, but it wasn’t my place to talk about his sex life. Besides, lovers wasn’t the right word, though I didn’t know what was.

“No. We aren’t lovers.”

“But—”

“No. Please, Christine. It’s not only my life here, but Weston’s too, and I don’t feel right talking about it. I answered your question, and I think that should be enough.”

She took my hand and squeezed it. “We met because we both suffered losing our mothers to a horrible disease. But you know that you’re my friend. And if something bothers you, I want you to feel like you can talk to me.”

I smiled at her. “I appreciate that, and I consider you a good friend as well. But some things are better left alone.”

She frowned. “You sound like Archer. He kept his whole life a secret, thinking he wasn’t good enough, when he was better than anyone I knew. You are the same. A wonderful man who deserves to be happy, if you’d allow yourself to accept it.”

I stayed silent for the remainder of the ride. We reached my apartment in DUMBO and Omar helped me upstairs. Of course Christine came prepared with food to fill my refrigerator.

“Thank you again for everything.” I kissed her cheek. “I’ll call you. I know the fund raiser is coming up, so I’ll see you then.”

“Yes, you will and maybe before. Try and get some of your new partners to come. I’m sure they’d be happy to donate to a worthy cause. In any case, I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

After she left, I FaceTimed Bill.

“Hey, kiddo. How’re you feeling? The ankle better?”

“Yeah, definitely. No more crutches. Just checking in to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“I’m good. Meant to ask you how that date went the last time we talked. You still seeing her?”

“No, it didn’t work out.”

“Ahh. Too bad. On to the next one.”

I chuckled. “Probably gonna wait until I’m fully healed.”

“They get those SOBs yet?”

“Yep, they’re going to do some quality time.” The police had swiftly made arrests, and with the entire attack on camera, they’d pled guilty to assault and a whole host of crimes.

“Why dontcha come down here and recuperate? They musta given you time off.”

“They did, but I don’t want to take it. Better to keep busy.”

Always sharp, Bill zeroed in on my words. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just started, and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”

“You’re a great lawyer. They’re lucky to have you.” Bill had always been my staunchest supporter.

“Thanks.” A text popped up from Weston, and my heart slammed. “I, uh, better get going. Lots of stuff to go through, like the mail and my fridge. I’ll talk to you soon.”

My palms were sweaty when I picked up the phone to read.

Couldn’t wait for me to come home to say good-bye at least? There are still some leftovers in the freezer.

I gnawed on my lip.

I had Christine and Omar help me. The food is for you. She gave me more.

The texting stopped after that, and I decided to do what I’d told Bill—go through two weeks’ worth of mail, which turned out to be mostly advertisements, catalogs, and some other junk.

My fridge had plenty of lunch and dinner food but nothing for breakfast and no milk for coffee, so I placed a delivery order.

I changed out of my suit and into shorts and a T-shirt, figuring I’d have a drink, sit out on the terrace, and watch the lights of the city come up.

My apartment was small, but the view was killer—floor-to-ceiling windows brought the bridges and Statue of Liberty right to my face wherever I turned. It didn’t get any better than that.

The buzzer rang. “Brenner?”

My delivery must have come faster than usual. “Yeah, John. Let them up.”

“Oh, okay.”

I waited by the door and opened it at the soft rap .

Weston stood in front of me.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

That cocky grin surfaced. “I ran out of parmesan.”