Chapter 5 #2
Never mind that I still have no idea how I’m going to get back inside my apartment.
I listen for a few more seconds, and when I’m satisfied that Miles has gone inside, I step through the bushes, robe loose
and bags clutched, out onto the walkway that runs parallel to the building. I stop short when I find myself standing right
in front of my very casual, very amused, very handsome neighbor.
I scream and drop all three bags, which snag on the belt and pull it all the way out of the loop. My robe does its best impression
of those inflatable blow-up men outside a car dealership, just waving wherever it wants. I frantically clutch the thin fabric
around my body as Miles takes a step back, looking away, his hands up in front of him, as if to let me know he comes in peace
and isn’t trying to catch me in a compromising position.
I grimace, and another chunk of face mud cracks and drops to the ground with a comically soft thump.
I tighten my belt, clear my throat, and try to act like I’m supposed to be there.
He smiles. “What are you doing in the bushes?”
“I . . . locked myself out,” I say, straightening up a little, trying to act nonchalant.
“Oh, you live here,” he says. “I didn’t recognize you with the—” He swirls his hand around his face, then points at mine, and in a weird
move, he reaches down and grabs the cracked chunk of mask and tries to hand it back to me. “Does this go back on somewhere,
or . . . ?”
I stare, feeling like this whole scene is happening to someone else.
He tosses the chunk to the ground again.
“Yeah, right, that was . . . I mean, it probably can’t stick back on .
. .” He takes a step toward me. “Claire, right? I’m Miles.
I live across the courtyard.” He sticks a hand out in my direction, but then decides against it when he realizes both of my hands are clinging to my decency.
In any other situation I might find him endearing.
“I would’ve introduced myself sooner, but I’ve been out of town.”
I’m still struggling to find a foothold in this scene, so I don’t say anything.
“How are you liking it so far?” He doesn’t seem to notice that I’m still practically standing in the bushes, surrounded by
enough takeout to feed a whole suburb, wearing a very thin, probably see-through pink floral robe with enough mud on my face
to prevent my phone from opening at the sight of me.
“I’d like it better if the door didn’t lock behind me,” I finally say with a weak smile.
“Oh. Yeah. Safety feature.” He scratches his head. “Kind of like a hotel. I mean . . . it’s usually a good thing.” He gives
me a quick once-over. “Though, maybe not in this case.”
I wince. “Yeah. Maybe not.”
He’s smirking now. “It’s in the welcome email—did you read the welcome email?”
“Of course I read the welcome email,” I lie.
“There was no welcome email.”
Crap. “What—?”
“I’m just teasing.” He chuckles.
“This isn’t funny.” I cinch the robe tighter and reach down to grab the bags.
“Oh! Here, let me . . .” He moves toward them, and I instinctively flinch at his closeness—which tips my balance again, and
I lean, having to put a hand down on the ground to keep from falling.
He stands, bags in one hand and offering me his other one to steady me.
“It’s kind of funny,” he quips.
I look at his hand and decide it would be better if I didn’t fall over again, so I take it to stand back up, quickly dropping
it as soon as I’m upright.
“It would be funnier if it were happening to someone else,” I volley back at him, trying to emote, but without the use of
my eyebrows it’s not very effective.
“You’ll laugh about it one day,” he says. “When people ask us how we met, I’ll tell them the story of the half-naked woman
stalking me in the bushes.” He looks down at the bags. “Oh my gosh, is this MingHin? I love this place.”
He’s acting like we’re old friends. What the heck?
“I am not stalking you!”
He squints at me. “Aren’t you, though? A little bit stalking?”
“They left my food at the gate,” I say, as if the explanation will help any of this. “I was halfway through a facial, and
I’m trying new things, so I ordered all of this food I’ve never heard of, and then it came but not to my door, and I didn’t
think it would be any big deal if I—” I wave a hand in the direction of the gate.
“Hid in the bushes in your bathrobe.”
I ignore him and hold out a hand to take the bags.
He extends one toward me but keeps the other two. “I can help.” Then, in a fun way, he adds, “Looks like you’ll need the other
hand to keep things . . . you know.”
I stiffen again, pulling the robe tighter with my free hand. “And nobody is going to ask how we met.”
He gestures to the walkway back to my apartment. “They will if we become friends.”
Before I can stop myself, I make the connection between my experience and my assumptions and blurt out, “You probably have
enough female friends, huh?”
He holds eye contact for a long beat, then raises an amused brow. “Did you say you’re ‘trying’ new food?”
I take a few tentative steps toward my apartment. He dodged the accusation, or just didn’t give it any mind, which is good because it was a jerky thing for me to say. “Yes.”
“But this is Chinese food,” he says, nodding at the bags.
“And?”
“You’ve never had Chinese takeout before?”
By his face I can tell he doesn’t mean this to be insulting. Just curious. In a vulnerable slip, I admit, “My ex-husband didn’t
like it.”
He gives me a slow nod, like he’s sorting something out about me, and I shift because I don’t like feeling like I’m in his
crosshairs.
“Let me know how you like it,” he says. “The dumplings are so much better with the ginger sauce.”
He smiles. And that’s that.
I’m having trouble reconciling how he’s acting with what I’ve decided about him. For me, it’s not a leap to look at a man
apparently dating two younger women and immediately think of my own history. But my experience isn’t everyone’s experience.
And this man is not John.
It’s an unfair conclusion to jump to.
As I’m mentally debating, he walks over to a large flowerpot on the opposite side of my door. He fishes around in the center
of the plants and pulls out a small black box. He opens it and holds up a key.
“What is that?”
He frowns. “It’s a key.” His tone says, Duh.
“To my apartment?”
“Everyone has one hidden somewhere,” he says.
“And you just happen to know where mine is?” I ask.
“Lucky for you, yes.”
“How?”
“Because I’m the one who put it there.” He pauses. “You’re welcome.”
I shift. “Why did you hide a key to my apartment in the plants?”
“Because people lock themselves out all the time,” he says, moving toward my door. “The safety feature is great . . . until
it’s not.” He sticks the key in the lock and turns.
“But why did you hide them?”
“Oh, uh, because I own the building.” He shrugs.
“You own the building,” I say.
Realization sets in.
“You own the building.”
“Yep.”
He turns the key and opens my door, motioning with one arm for me to walk through.
I step inside my apartment in a daze, then turn back. He sets the other bags just inside the door.
“Ginger sauce. I’m telling you.”
He turns to leave, and I blurt out, “Thank you!”
He glances back.
I shake my head, hoping it will sift out the lunacy and keep the sane parts of my vocabulary. “Thank you. For helping me.
I really didn’t know what I was going to do about getting back in.”
He nods. “Anytime, Claire.”
And I realize that even though I never told him my name, he knows it because he owns the building.
“That’s what friends are for.” He holds my gaze for a beat too long, then turns and walks away.
Minnie: Did you download the app?
Claire: No.
Minnie: Mom.
Claire: Amelia.
Minnie: I found someone perfect for you. He loves Chicago sports and tavern-style pizza.
Claire: That’s literally the entire South Side.
Minnie: Mom.
Claire: Amelia.
Minnie: You love pizza.
Claire: Everyone loves pizza.You can’t build a relationship on pizza.
Minnie: It’s one date, you’re not going to marry the guy.
Claire: I’m not comfortable with dating apps. It feels like shopping for people.
Minnie: I mean . . . kind of. But it’s a great way to get out and see your new city. And maybe meet a hot guy.
Claire: Amelia.
Minnie: Mother.
Claire: Mother? ??
Minnie: Check it out. And your profile. And hey . . .
Claire: Yes?
Minnie: Have fun! ??