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There was only one spare seat at the table—next to Neil. I sheepishly settled down beside him. He looked unamused, seething with palpable disappointment. It felt worse than if he were to say something aloud. I took out my notepad and pen, but I had little idea what anyone was talking about due to missing so much context.
When it was over, Neil said nothing on our way back to the twentieth floor. It was up to me to break the awkward tension. “I’m sorry for being late this morning. My alarm didn’t go off, and I accidentally slept in. I know you wanted me to attend this meeting. I let you down.”
“You demonstrated a serious lack of professionalism.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“If you’re ever running late for an important meeting, take a taxi and expense it.”
“A taxi wouldn’t have been fast enough. Could I have expensed a helicopter?” I regretted the snark the instant the words left my mouth.
Neil scowled in response.
Note to self: Don’t use sarcasm on Neil. Or any kind of joke.
Time for a different approach. I returned Neil’s silent treatment with my own. It worked for a while, then my stomach betrayed me. It let out a loud gurgle. I clutched the offending body part, my eyes wide. Neil stared at me.
“I didn’t have breakfast,” I explained.
“Get yourself something from the cafeteria.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Go. Put it on my account.”
“O-okay.”
I backtracked to the lift. Neil’s behaviour confused me. One minute he was cold fury, the next he was, dare I say, a little bit understanding. A tiny bit. I couldn’t make sense of this, let alone whatever secrets he was hiding.
I bought myself an egg-and-cheese bagel, returned to my desk, and wolfed it down as I worked. Neil left me undisturbed until the afternoon, when he approached me with a request. “Amelia, I need to ask you a favour.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
“I have a huge load of paperwork to get through by tomorrow morning. I’m going to need to stay late tonight. I won’t ask this of you often, but can you stay a while this evening and help?”
His request made sense. I was late to work this morning; it was only fair that I stayed late to make up for it. I was about to agree, then I remembered I had other plans. Cleaning. I couldn’t cancel the appointment at this late stage. I’d lose the client—my only client. As much as it pained me, I had to deny Neil’s request. “I can’t. I already have plans. But I can get here extra early tomorrow, if that would help.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Neil walked off.
Ugh. Why do I feel so bad about this?
Chapter Nineteen
Iarrived at Cat Dad’s apartment just in time to admire the harbour view from his living room as the sun melted beyond the horizon, splashing the sky pink, orange, and purple.
When the last remnants of sunshine faded, I flicked on the light. The cats lay on the worn-out rug in front of the fireplace. Bowey was curled up, snoozing, while Chichi licked her grey fur clean. I approached them, offering my hand for them to sniff with their wet little noses. Bowey lifted his head. I noticed the poor thing had a little scratch by his nose. He sniffed once, then resumed his nap. Chichi rubbed her face against my hand, purring and tickling me with her whiskers.
Just like last time, the house was tidy, with only a few errant paperbacks, a half-finished glass of water, an empty video game case, and a newspaper marring the otherwise uncluttered surfaces. The air smelled clean, apart from a trace of stuffiness.
In my rush to leave this morning, I had forgotten to bring any cleaning supplies, but Cat Dad’s stock was adequate to get the job done. I dusted, then polished, then vacuumed. The cats scarpered onto the patio when the vacuum cleaner roared to life. I daydreamed while I took care of the monotonous task. Who was the man who lived here? Why did I feel such a strong connection to him? Was it just because I liked his apartment? What kind of man was he? What did he do?
Smash.
I hurtled back to reality at the ominous sound.
What was that?
