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“Well, I don’t like that you stole the entire closet behind my back,” he countered blandly. He gestured toward the dresser they’d moved in yesterday, along with the rest of his and Paige’s original bedroom furniture, after moving out David’s old furniture. It’d been a real bitch, because it was a massive piece and heavy as fuck, but with fifteen drawers, it was double the size of David’s dresser. “Okay, so now I guess it’s my turn to make an executive decision and declare that dresser to be mine, to include the drawers which were going to be yours, for all of my—” he broke off at the sight of her biting her lip and shaking her head. “What? That look better not mean—” he broke off again, this time to go to the dresser and start opening drawers. To his disbelief, the clothes he’d transferred from his old dresser drawers were no longer there, having been replaced with Paige’s clothes.
Every. Single. Drawer.
Turning to her, he asked, “Where did all these clothes come from? I mean, I know you have a lot, but you didn’t have this many at your apartment.”
“Yes, I did. I just had two closets to put them in—the one in my bedroom, and the one in the guest bedroom.”
“Jesus. Well, that explains it,” he muttered, before waving a hand in the direction of the dresser. “So, where are my clothes that were in there?”
Unbelievably, she was trying to hide a smile as she pointed to a couple of boxes off to the side. “In those.”
“My clothes are in boxes? I’m supposed to live out of boxes?”
“Only until I can figure out where to put them,” she quickly said.
“You mean besides in the closet and the dresser?”
“Yes.”
“And how long do you think it will take you to ‘figure’ it out?”
“Not long, I’m sure. Like I said, I’m re-organizing, and—”
He held up a hand, stopping her; he knew all about her organization skills. “Are you going to be able to re-organize away half of your clothes?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Which means we have a bit of a problem,” he said, looking at his pile of clothes on the bed once again, then at the clothes in boxes. “Or, rather, I have a problem.”
She tilted her head. “Well, why don’t we move your old dresser back down here and you can put some of your clothes in that?”
David tilted his head as well. “The one we moved up to the attic yesterday?”
“That’s the one.”
He knew it would only be a half-measure solution at best, but would be better than having all of his shit in boxes for God knew how long. “Hmm, well, I’m going to let you break the news to Dick that he needs to help me move the dresser we moved up to the attic, back down to our bedroom.”
Just then, Evan stepped into the room and glared at them. “Dick isn’t helping you move any more shit—I mean Evan. Evan isn’t helping you move any more shit because Evan quits.”
“Please?” Paige beseeched him, going and giving him a side-hug. “Pretty please? It’ll be the last thing, I promise.”
Evan took several deep breaths, before relenting. “Fine,” he groaned, as if in pain. “But does it have to be today? I’m totally wrecked.”
“No, it doesn’t have to be today,” David said. “But … soon. Because until we do, all of my clothes are going to be in boxes.”
Evan glanced around the room, for the first time really taking note of the situation, especially the pile of David’s clothes on the bed, all on hangers and obviously having been removed from the closet. Evan gave David a knowing smile before mouthing, I told you so.
Chapter 92
One month after the honeymoon, while Paige was sitting at her desk and finalizing a contract, the cloying scent of Chanel N°5 drifted into her office, alerting her to Linda’s presence.
“Can we talk?” Linda asked from the doorway, in her I’m annoyed to be here voice.
Looking up, Paige said, “Sure,” even though the last thing she wanted to do was talk to her boss. “What about?”
Linda came in and sat down in one of the chairs in front of Paige’s desk and crossed her legs, before smoothing out the material of her black Ralph Lauren skirt. “Your time cards.”
“My time cards? Is there a problem?”
