Page 35 of The Weight Of It All
“Ugh. Don’t even say that word.”
“My grandmother is German,” Reed said wistfully. “She has the real schnapps if you want me to hook you up?”
I squinted at him. “I think that citrus tart just became mine.”
He laughed. “I’ll see you out the front in about an hour.”
I pulledup at the gym and had to wait a few minutes. I was contemplating sending him a quick text when he came through the front doors, laughing at something or with someone inside. When he got into the car, his reason for being a little late was obvious. He smelled of soap and deodorant, and his hair was damp and neatly brushed.
I wasn’t sure which I preferred: fresh and clean or hot and sweaty. I shook that thought from my head. “You showered?”
He stuffed his gym bag by his feet. “Yep. I didn’t want to be trying on clothes straight after work. I’m sure there are health regulations against being sweaty and gross and puttingon clothes someone else might buy.” He clicked his seatbelt on, settled in comfortably with a grin, while impossibly filling one half of my car with his huge frame. “Were you waiting long?”
“No, not at all. I was busy selling your citrus tart on eBay to the highest bidder.”
Reed looked at me like I’d just flicked a little puppy on the head. I may have laughed.
“Oh, I see how it is.” He shook his head and chuckled at me. “So, where are we going to?”
“I was thinking Birkenhead. Is that okay with you? Or would you prefer the city?” Birkenhead Point was a huge factory outlet shopping centre with everything imaginable, from a dollar shop to Ralph Lauren. But it was kind of close, and I knew he rode his bike there often, and given he didn’t have a car and I was driving, he might prefer a trip to the city. “I have a parking spot in the city. Let’s go there.”
Reed shrugged, like he really didn’t care either way. “Okay.”
The beauty of living in Balmain was that it was literally a ten-minute drive into the city. I pulled into my work car park, which took us about four storeys below Pitt Street. When we’d finally circled down and I drove into a reserved spot with my number plate painted on the wall, Reed seemed surprised. “You do this every day?”
“Yep. Though sometimes if I know I’ll be finishing early, I’ll leave the car at home and jump on a bus.” I pointed over to the elevator, and we walked toward it. “Traffic today was great. Weekdays aren’t always so good.”
“I’ll never complain about my short stroll to work again.”
We stepped into the elevator, and I pressed the button to the street level. “Yeah, you’ve got it pretty easy.”
“Except when it rains.”
“What do you do when it rains?”
“Get wet.”
I snorted. “Nice.”
“Well, see, they have these new inventions nowadays called umbrellas.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah okay. Hey, would you look at that?” I said, pulling out my phone. “The highest bidder of the lemon tart just won.”
Reed laughed as we stepped out of the elevator and into Martin Place and into the warm Sydney sun. The sky was blue, people walking past were smiling, and I had to wonder when the last time I stopped to consider if it was a nice day or not.
“So you work along here?” Reed asked.
“Yep. Just down there,” I said, pointing to the huge sandstone heritage building. “But it’s not that exciting.”
“Well, not for you,” he countered. “But it’s a pretty special place to work, no?”
I smiled up at him. “I guess.”
“Though I don’t envy you the corporate uniform.”
“I actually don’t mind wearing a suit every day. It eliminates the dilemma of what to wear.”
Reed scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks. Give me my gym shorts and T-shirt any day. Though I’ve seen you in your suit. Very suave.”
