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The doorbell rang again, and I walked to the door on socked feet. I peered through the peephole and saw Brett standing on the other side of my door.
I unlocked as quickly as I could and yanked the door open. “What are you doing here? If they find you here…”
“They won’t.” Brett sounded sure of himself, but he stepped into my apartment, and I closed the door behind him. “I came in through the back. There’s a maintenance entrance.”
“I hate that you have to sneak around like this.”
Brett shrugged and pulled me against him in a hug. “For you, I would sneak around all night.”
“Stop,” I said even though I was blushing. “You really shouldn’t be here.”
“But I come bearing gifts,” Brett said with a grin and held up a container. “Chicken noodle soup. For the invalid.”
I couldn’t help but smile. It was really sweet of him to come and take care of me. It was really stupid too. Being at his home was what had gotten us into trouble in the first place.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Brett said. “And you should stop. Just stop thinking altogether. Rather, tell me how you’re feeling.”
I walked into the kitchen, and Brett followed me. It was the first time he was in my apartment, and I was glad I had cleaned. Brett walked like he knew exactly where everything was. He didn’t look around and take note of what the apartment said about me; instead, he paid attention to me alone.
“I don’t know what’s up,” I said, opening the container and pouring two bowls of soup for us. “I just feel off.”
“You’ve been through a lot, don’t be so hard on yourself.”
I shrugged and put the first bowl in the microwave to warm up the soup. “Maybe I’m just coming down with something. Like the flu.”
“It’s quite possible. I usually manage to get through tough situations okay, but when I relax afterward, it hits me. Everyone is different.”
I nodded, and we stood in the kitchen in silence while the microwave hummed and the timer counted down. When the first bowl was ready, I swapped it out for the second, and while I waited, I retrieved two spoons from the drawer. When the second bowl was ready, I took it out and offered Brett his soup. He took it from me, and we walked into the living room where we sat down together on the couch. I had left the curtains drawn all week. I knew that no one outside would know Brett was in here with me, and at least they hadn’t seen him enter the building.
We ate our soup together.
“How are things going at the office?” I asked. “Are they still hounding you?”
Brett nodded, taking a bite and swallowing. “It’s dying down. There aren’t nearly as many as there were before. I’m pretty sure their bosses are starting to pull them for other stories, stories that are more interesting. Nothing has happened this week, it doesn’t pay to sit on our porch all day.”
“I wish they would go away altogether,” I said.
“They will. Just give it time.”
“I’m sorry about how everything turned out,” I said.
Brett shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Isn’t this conversation the exact same as the one we had a couple of days ago? Where I was the one apologizing when you told me not to? Things will get better, it’s not your fault.”
“I feel like it is my fault, though. I was the one in the photo after all.”
“And you were photographed leaving my building. It doesn’t implicate me any less.”
I guess he was right, but I still felt awful. I fluctuated between varying shades of guilt.
Brett didn’t stay very long. He finished his soup, rinsed his bowl in the sink, and pulled me in for a quick hug before he left my apartment. Instead of walking toward the front of the building like everyone else, he headed toward the rear where he would use the back entrance again. At least he was taking precautions not to be seen at my place. I couldn’t imagine what that would do to our reputations. Again, I thought that he shouldn’t have come, but I was glad he had been here. After the long week of trying to convince the world that we cared nothing for each other, it was good just to be with him again without anyone watching.
