Page 35 of Soft Tissue Damage
“Hello, Mr. Smythe, what can I do for you today?” I say, with a customer-service smile on my lips.
He holds up a letter and flaps it in the air. “I’ve got this for you. Rent increase. I’m delivering these personally, so no one saysooh, I didn’t knowon rent day.” He speaks in ahigh-pitched, ditzy voice, and then laughs at his impression of presumably me and my roommate.
I take the offered envelope, open it, and read it. My heart sinks. That much more money, for this dump? I’m grateful that I can afford something in this city, but it’s hardly the Four Seasons. The kitchen and bathroom are decades old and need updating, some of the electrical fixtures have stopped working, and I’ve seen more than one mouse scurrying through the hallways. When Cullan dropped me home a few weeks ago, I could tell he was scoping out the building’s security with abhorrence.
“This rent increase hardly seems fair. What are you doing to improve the building to justify this cost?”
“That’s the price,” Mr. Smythe says cheerfully. “Cost of living is going up and up. But if it’s too much for you and that pretty girl you share the space with, maybe we could come to some kind of arrangement.”
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s implying in a semi-joking tone, but with a hopeful gleam in his eye in case I might take him up on his disgusting offer.
“I’ll let Alexandra know about the rent increase,” I tell him before closing the door in his face and putting the letter on the kitchen table.
The rent increase looks about thirty percent, and I call Alexandra to tell her the bad news. She doesn’t answer, so I hang up and keep getting ready.
The small amount of money I have in my savings account is already under threat, and that means I have to be very careful at my second and better-paying job. Noflirting with my boss, no appreciating how handsome he is, and definitely no kissing. I have a boyfriend whom I like very much and want to get serious about.
I got a patch for him and everything.
When Cullan opens the front door for me that evening, I give him a quick smile and then avert my gaze before I fall into my usual habit of examining what he’s wearing and how good it looks on him, how hazel his eyes are, and how touchable his hair looks. “Hello, Mr. Grant.” I move past him into the living room and exclaim with a smile, “There’s my Rosie. How are you today?”
I hurry over to the little girl and give her a hug, asking her all about the toys that are spread before her. Cullan lingers behind me for a moment, and the back of my neck prickles while I keep a smile plastered to my face. I hear him move away, and I let out a small, unhappy sigh. It’s rude to freeze him out, and I don’t enjoy it, but I don’t know what else to do in order to keep this job.
Dinner is strained, and I don’t have much of an appetite, but thankfully Cullan keeps receiving calls that he takes out in the garden. Poker seems strangely complicated.
When we’re finished eating, I turn to Rosie with a smile. “Is it bedtime, Rosie? Shall we go upstairs and read a story?”
I flee upstairs with the child in my arms, losing myself in the busyness of the bath time and bedtime routine.
Once Rosie is asleep, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and I head downstairs into the deserted livingroom to take the call while I tidy up Rosie’s toys. It’s Alexandra calling me back, and I tell her the bad news about our rent going up. I commiserate with her, and tell her about our landlord’s gross suggestion.
“He’s disgusting,” Alexandra mutters. “Harassment, at that price? We should move out. Find somewhere better.”
Somewhere better means paying more money, which neither of us can afford. “We can try. Let’s look next Tuesday or Wednesday, okay?” But I’m not feeling very hopeful.
“You got it. Talk to you later.”
I hang up, and I realize that Cullan is lingering in the doorway with concern etched on his handsome face.
“Is everything all right?”
I give him a quick smile. “Everything’s fine. Just roommate stuff. Rosie is asleep.”
“Can I help in any way?”
I wonder if he overheard me discussing my creepy landlord. It’s tempting to tell him everything, because I’m pretty sure he’ll be angry enough to confront Mr. Smythe and put him in his place. As much as I’d love to see that, it won’t change the fact that my rent has gone up, and it will only make me an even more troublesome employee.
“You’re already doing so much for me. I’ll sort everything out. Don’t worry about it.”
He nods slowly, though he seems like he has reservations. I make the mistake of looking at him for the first time tonight. Really looking at him. He’s rolled the sleeves of his shirt back past his elbows to reveal the tattoos,sinews, and veins of his forearms. I vividly remember how good he looks shirtless. How good would he look on top of me with my nails raking down his chest?
A sudden thought intrudes on my mind. I’ve reluctantly gone on birth control for my boyfriend, but I would happily go on birth control for Cullan.
Who am I kidding? I would happily gooffbirth control for Cullan. Peel this patch right off my shoulder and throw myself into his arms. I wonder if he wants more children. I got the impression when he backed me against the bookcase last week that he’s attracted to me. It wasn’t just the intensity of committing murders together that made us kiss. I wonder if he’d be delighted if I accidentally got pregnant.
Or not so accidentally.
That deliciously illicit thought parades around in my mind. A baby with Cullan. A chance for a real, loving family with a man who would do anything for me and his children. A heart-poundingly gorgeous man who has me tossing and turning in bed at night as I long to feel his hands on my body.
