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“If it hasn’t escaped your notice, I’ve been in a relationship for the past ten years. A serious one.”
“Yes, but you haven’t had your eyes gouged out. You’re not blind! You’re a red-blooded woman.” Stella sighs, her expression dreamy. “I wish I worked with someone that hot. My days would fly by.” Stella sighs again.
She works for a marketing company and is surrounded by hot men. The problem is her ex also worked there until he was fired.
“Okay, I admit, Gabriel is good-looking. I’m not blind. However, he’s five years younger than me, he’s also my boss. I love my job.”
Stella and Nat exchange a glance.
“What?” I ask, starting to get a little annoyed with my friends.
“Nothing,” they both say together.
It’s my turn to huff. “Fine,” I say. “Are you ladies drinking, or are you going to help me get these boxes unpacked?”
“Both,” they say together, holding up their glasses for a refill.
Stella moves to place the rest of the champagne in the fridge.
“Did you get a food order in already?” Stella asks, turning towards me and holding open the fridge door.
The fridge is fit to burst with a variety of fresh fruit and food. I know there’s only one person who would have done that.
“No, I was going to go later,” I say, hiding my shock.
Stella quirks her eyebrow, “Only a communications officer... right... you keep telling yourself that.”
The boxes are unpacked an hour later, and everything has a place. The empty boxes have been delivered to the recycle bins in the basement, and my clothes have taken up residence in a small portion of the enormous walk-in wardrobe. Photos and my collection of ornaments adorn the sides, while my throws and cushions add a splash of colour to the white sofa. When the girls leave mid-afternoon, I walk out onto the balcony, taking in the view.
When I turn back and stare through the window at my new home, a sense of calm descends.
CHAPTER 12
GABRIEL
The concierge called to inform me that Leah’s things had been delivered, and she was now in the building. Before I could stop myself, I was outside her apartment. I had to divert my gaze when she opened the door, her hair in a messy ponytail, her hips hugged in tight faded jeans, the sloppy off-the-shoulder sweater showing glimpses of her ivory skin. Gone was some of the tension she’s been holding all week. Instead, she looked stunning in her casual clothes.
My phone pings.
LEAH:
Thank you for all the food. You didn’t need to do that.
ME:
No problem, I had an order myself.
I lie.
I keep in the basics but buy my dinner nightly from one of the local restaurants. But Leah mentioned earlier in the week that she would need to shop when she arrived. She didn’t want to cart food with her, so I thought I’d save her the trouble. I’ve never been one for cooking myself.
LEAH:
Let me cook you dinner as a thank you.
ME:
You don’t have to.
