Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Gil has one job . . . fine, he has two—open the door for residents and don’t let Andrew in on my secret. Coming around to the backside of the desk, Gil stands in front of me. I hear patting, and I know what it is instantly. He loves his tablet.
I gave it to him five years ago along with a stand and Wi-Fi, so he didn’t have to suffer with this small box of a TV he had on his desk probably since before I moved here. “These days, I go to one or two of the afternoon games each season. But if the Yankees are playing, I’m watching.”
“Do you have kids?”
“A daughter.” When the sound of the metal frame nicks the counter, I know he’s pulled out the photo he keeps next to the tablet. His daughter is like a cousin to me. I don’t see her often, but when I do, it’s like visiting family again. “Her name is Isabella.” He pauses, and then adds, “I have another daughter. She’s not mine by blood, but we’re family.”
Gil is my family in all sense of the word. Hearing him say it, though, which is something we rarely do, has me feeling loved. It’s been a while since the emotion has filled my chest, and I realize now how much I miss it.
Andrew’s words don’t come fast. I can imagine him taking in the information. He may get distracted easily when I’m around, but he’s an observer.
He finally says, “My family means everything to me. I bet she appreciates having you in her life.”
The toe of his shoe touches the side of mine. “Some days more than others.”
Andrew laughs again. “You win some, you lose some.”
“If that isn’t the truth. Tell me, Mr. Christiansen—”
“You can call me Andrew.” Oh sure, he gets to. I roll my eyes.
“You’ve been hanging around outside lately.” Gil doesn’t have to ask the question. We all know what he’s doing, so I poke his leg. He’s quick to shift around the desk away from me. “Are you—?”
“We’re friends. Just friends.” I’m not sure why that’s a blow to my ego when he’s only saying what I admittedly pushed for. Andrew and I are friends. And maybe if I say it a hundred more times, it will actually sink in. I just wish he didn’t have to be so appealing or funny when he’s off the clock. And how is he even better looking at the end of the day when most of us look like hell? No matter the hour, he’s a walking GQ billboard.
Closing my eyes just for a moment, I can still feel his arm wrapped around my waist as he pulled me closer for safety. He doesn’t say anything or make a production, but he always positions himself between me and the street. His acts of chivalry make my heart beat a little faster in a good way.
Gil’s lucky I like him because if I didn’t, I’d be furious that he’s making me use my imagination, which is going wild with theories. The silence between the two men is killing me. I’m begging for a clue as to what’s going on since neither is much of a talker.
“She’s a nice girl,” Gil says, causing me to halt on the spot.
“Oh, do you know her?”
Suddenly, Gil’s very busy clicking a pen over again and picking up the receiver from the base and setting it back down. “I bet you have big plans for the weekend.” He walks out from around the counter again.
“I’ll probably work. Speaking of, I should probably get upstairs.” Sounding a little disgruntled, Andrew adds, “I’ve been distracted all week and have a few hours of financials to go through before tomorrow morning.”
“There will be storms tonight, but it should be beautiful by the end of business tomorrow, just in time for the weekend. There’s nothing like springtime in Manhattan. Unless you’re into fall, and it’s pretty spectacular as well. My point is, it will be nice. I hope you get to enjoy it.”
“Me too.” Andrew’s voice is distant, and that clues me in that he’s finally at the elevators.
And then it dings. Thank God. My legs may not be as long as his, but they’re cramped in this small space. A few quiet seconds later, Gil’s head angles into my view. “Coast is clear.”
I wrangle my way out from under the counter, my legs aching as I stretch them again. “Next time, can you send him on his way a little sooner?”
“Can’t blame me that he decided today was the day to get to know each other.” He sits on the chair and glides forward. “They eventually all come around for a visit. As for you, maybe the better decision would have been to face the truth, literally, and tell him you live in the building.”