Page 57 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

"Sounds like someone's got a suspicious mind about suspicious minds."

"That doesn't even make sense." But I'm fighting a laugh as we reach my floor. "Also, how are you not out of breath? We just ran up six flights of stairs."

"Good genes." He grins. "Also, your elevator was working fine. You're the one who insisted on stairs."

"Because the last time I took that elevator, Mrs. Peterson from 4B cornered me for a forty-minute conversation about her Grandson's juice cleanse business."

"Ah yes, the dreaded MLM ambush." He steadies me as I nearly trip. "Truly the most dangerous form of neighbor."

"You're making fun of me."

"Never." But his steely-blue eyes stare. "Though I have to ask—is running away from social interaction your default setting, or am I just special?"

I'm about to reply when Frank, my doorman, comes sprinting down the hallway.

"Ms. Bristol!" He skids to a stop, wheezing slightly. "I tried to catch you downstairs, but—" He spots Connor. "Oh. Hello, sir. I didn't realize Ms. Bristol had... company."

"Frank." I straighten. "What's the situation?"

"Well..." He shifts nervously. "Mr. Drake stopped by earlier..."

My stomach drops. "Will was here?"

Connor goes very still beside me.

"He left something." Frank gestures to my door. "Said it was a peace offering. I tried to tell him you weren't accepting deliveries, but he insisted it was important."

I approach my apartment slowly, like the door might bite. "Please tell me you didn't let him inside."

"Of course not!" Frank looks offended. "I may be new, but I'm not stupid. I made him leave it in the hall."

"Good man." Connor claps him on the shoulder. "Any chance you got security footage?"

"Already saved and backed up." Frank grins. "Ms. Bristol taught me well."

I reach my door, then freeze.

Because there, propped against the frame, is an oversized gift basket that looks like Gwyneth Paltrow's lifestyle brand threw up all over it.

"Oh no." I pick up the card. "Oh hell no."

"What?" Connor peers over my shoulder.

"'Dear Ari,'" I read, my voice getting higher with each word. "'I know we ended things badly, but I hope these healingcrystals and organic kombucha will help align your chakras during this transitional period. Namaste, Will.'"

Connor makes a strangled sound. "Please tell me he didn't actually write 'namaste.'"

"He did." I flip the card. "He also included instructions for a 'cleansing meditation ritual' to help me 'process my negative energy.'"

"Fascinating." Connor examines the basket. “He and my mother would get along great. And…what in the fresh hell exactly is 'moon-charged water'?"

"Probably tap water that Jenny left outside during a full moon." I poke at something wrapped in recycled paper. "Oh look, there's also sage for 'emotional smudging.'"

"How thoughtful." Connor's voice could freeze a penguin’s cold ass. "Nothing says 'sorry I cheated on you' like appropriated spiritual practices and overpriced water."

A laugh bubbles up in my throat, slightly hysterical. "God, I need a drink."

"I can think of better uses for that sage."

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