Page 48 of Right Where I Want You

“How am I the one getting yelled at?” he asked, side-eyeing the dog as he scraped the fallen donuts back into thebox.

“You’re a drama queen,” Sebastian said. “It was about time you faced yourfears.”

Justin maneuvered by us, gripping the crumpled box as sweat dotted his temples. “You think I’m cured now?” he mumbled on his way to the office. “That only made thingsworse.”

I hobbled onto the elevator with Bruno as Sebastian held out my Choo to keep the doors open. I traded the leash for it and angled to slip it back on. Without thinking, I steadied myself on Sebastian’s bicep. As if the muscle wasn’t hard enough to jar me into realizing what I’d done, an electric jolt spurred me to jerk my hand back and grab the elevator railinginstead.

“Need help, Cinderella?” Sebastian asked, looking amused as he hit the button for thelobby.

“I’m fine.” I straightened my shoulders. “What’s Justin’s shoe thingabout?”

“He’s been nailed by one before.” Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Incidentally, it was also JimmyChoo.”

“That’s some badluck.”

Sebastian nodded gravely. “If you hear him tell the story, he almost lost aneye.”

I started to laugh. Sebastian also gave in to a deep chuckle. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Iasked.

“Because you brought yoursickdogonto the battlefield,” he deadpanned, as if I should know what thatmeant.

The elevator stopped at a floor, and I moved closer to Sebastian and Bruno as people boarded. “What are you talkingabout?”

“It’s like when you’re gaming at a friend’s house, and his mom comes in with snacks while you’re talking shit. I have no choice but to lower my weapons and benice.”

“So I wasn’t that far off base with the whole basement-dwelling nerd on aheadset.”

Sebastian ruffled the top of Bruno’s head. “I have no idea what you’re talkingabout.”

I smiled to myself as the elevator opened and we passed through the lobby. Sebastian nodded at one of the security guards. “I can’t believe you let this one in the building,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder atme.

“Sorry, Mr. Quinn,” he said. “She said he was an emotional supportdog.”

“Emotional support,” Sebastian said under his breath as he glanced back atme.

I shrugged and tried to look sheepish. “A white lie that doesn’t hurt anyone. ExceptJustin.”

Sebastian shook his head and turned back to security. “I wasn’t talking about the dog. I mean the Yankeesfan.”

“Oh-ho-ho,” the guard said, slapping his forehead. “I had no idea, or I would’ve turned heraway.”

Since we’d just lost four games in a row against the Sox, I couldn’t even retort. “It’s not enough that we’re giving it up to you on a regular basis?” I asked. “What are you traitors evendoingin NewYork?”

“She’s got a point,” security said, shooting us a wave as we exited onto a busy sidewalk. I followed Sebastian as he turned right, leading us through the first wave of a weekday lunch rush. It wouldn’t be long until lines curved around food carts and strangers ate on shared benches. I balled my hands into fists to keep from taking Bruno’s leash back amidst all the activity. Aside from him taking off after a bitch, a squirrel, or a UPS truck—he detested anyone who delivered mail—I worried about him getting too excited. It wasn’t good for his heart, which was why I ensured he was rarelyalone.

“Thanks for your help with the mess upstairs,” I said. “Where’d you learn how to dothat?”

Sebastian stopped to let Bruno sniff a tree trunk. “You mean . . .clean?”

“Don’t you have ahousekeeper?”

“Fuck no,” he said with enough vehemence that I wondered if I’d hit a sore spot. “And I neverwill.”

“I just can’t picture you on your hands and knees scrubbing down your Fifth Avenue bachelor pad. Or is it simply that you researched a How-To on caring for a date who boozes toohard?”

“If you must know,” he said, “I wasn’t raised the smooth-talking, bespoke-suit-wearing gentleman you’re acquaintedwith.”

Surely, he was messing with me, because that didn’t add up. Sebastian held himself with the poise of someone who’d grown up with Emily Post spines in the study, cotillion during the week, and an assurance that he’d never spend a night without a roof over his head. “But you went to Harvard and ‘summered’ on Nantucket as akid.”