Page 131 of Caper Crush
“Who is it?”
“It’s me,” I say. “Miranda.”
“You’re downstairs?”
That’s not the voice of a man thrilled to see me.
“I came straight here after my show,” I say.
He buzzes me in. I’m overreacting.
I take the elevator up. He’s waiting in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His hair is tousled and he’s wearing a tight-fitting, ribbed shirt. My senses go on high alert. And I have to remind myself that that wasn’t the purpose of my visit. I want to make sure we’re still on solid footing, that I’m imagining this distance between us. But after we establish that, I smile to myself, we can proceed to close any space.
I go to hug him, but he backs up. It’s not my imagination.
The door shuts behind me.
He walks over to his table, which is strewn with papers. At least he really was working.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your work,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow as if in doubt.
And so I jump right in. “I feel like there’s some distance between us, like we’re not connecting.”
“Why do you like me?”
I stop short. I hadn’t expected William to be so blunt.
“I like you so much,” I say.
“Do you really like me? What are you basing it on? You barely knew me when you started coming over.”
“Do you think I’m that shallow?” I ask. “Coming over was the only way I could get to know you better.”
“No. I’m not sure how deep your feelings run,” he says.
“You’re not sure? Hah. I’m the one who’s not sure of your feelings. You literally told me you weren’t sure of your feelings. How can younotbe sure of my feelings? Then what are you doing? Is this a fling for you?”
“I don’t do flings.”
“Maybe you used to not do flings. If you’re not sure of my feelings and you think I’m just entertaining myself with you, then what are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
And there it is.
“How do you not know?” I ask.
“I don’t know if this is going to last long term. And if it’s not going to last, then maybe we should stop here while we can still be friends, while there are all the good feelings from our solving this mystery together. We will have to see each other at family events for years to come.”
I am blindsided. “Did you intend this all along?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But let’s face it. We could not be more different. You don’t even have any boundaries. You just pop over all the time, even if I say I’m working, like now. And I don’t know anything about the art world, and you couldn’t care less about accounting.”
“I care very much about accounting. You can ask my accountant, Stewart. I send him brownies to show him how much I appreciate him, and he keeps telling me to stop.”
“You’re even making jokes at a time like this,” he says.
