Page 18 of Jace's Secret
“Yup.”
“And you’re not dead yet.”
“Otherwise known as almost forty.”
“Good for you. Have fun.” She smacks him on the leg and starts walking away.
“Wait! That’s it? I’m not doing anything with him,” he hisses, looking around to make sure no one is listening.
“It’s not illegal, so it’s none of my business. But if you want to be alone and miserable all your life, then feel free. It’s always good to have a cat sitter with no commitments.”
“Your cat is an unholy menace.”
“Clawmidia is a gift. And she has enough self-respect to know when someone does not appreciate her,” Sandra says, and goes back to her desk.
What if he winds up with nothing but an unpaid cat-sitting gig for the rest of his life?
“What if I’m being a total idiot?” he asks aloud.
“You are,” Ralph says, looking up from his desk. “I don’t know what about, but you are. Did I tell you I’m gonna ask Miriam to marry me?”
“Congratulations.”
They finish the workday, and he has three drinks with Ralph to celebrate his upcoming engagement. One of those drinks is an eggnog version of a White Russian.
It’s vile.
Garrett makes his way home on foot when he abruptly takes a detour to Jace’s apartment. He’s just fuzzy enough with booze that the reasons this isn’t a good plan don’t seem very important. He knocks, a few seconds go by, and Jace opens the door. He’s holding a paintbrush and has a perfect fingerprint of yellow on his cheek. God, he’s adorable.
“Garrett,” Jace says, shocked.
“Maybe I should have called.”
“Come in. It’s fine. Uh, you can also text me if you want to. In the future, or whatever. But dropping by is… well, anything is great. I’m going to stop talking now.” He steps back and Garrett crosses the threshold into Jace’s apartment. It smells like paint and lasagna.
“Are you hungry? I was just going to eat. Well, in ten minutes. Lasagna is in the oven.”
“Lasagna,” he repeats inanely.
“I try to cook one big dish a week, so I have a few good lunches,” Jace says.
Garrett would classify this as nervous chatter. If Jace was a suspect. Which he isn’t.
“It smells great. But I don’t want to disrupt your meal plans.”
Jace squints at him. “I’ve invited you. Don’t make a big deal of it. Let me just take care of this,” he says, gesturing with the paintbrush. Then he turns away and goes back into the bedroom where his easel is set up.
Garrett stays in the entryway, looking around and in a much better headspace to take the place in. He was dazed and out of it the first time he was here. There’s the couch where he fucked Jace.
He tries not to look there. Jace comes out of the bedroom and goes into the bathroom. The faucet turns on. “Of course there is paint on my face,” he says, rolling his eyes as he comes back into the room.
“It’s cute,” Garrett says.
“Uh-huh. Mature, too.”
“I liked the cactus. Thank you.”
“Oh. You’re welcome.”
