Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Delia
I walk into my apartment and drop the bag containing my salad on the elaborate marble table that sits in the middle of the massive entry way.
“Hello!” I call out, my voice echoing through the space as it bounces off the walls.
They’re all still painted the same shade of light gray that they were the day I moved in.
That was years ago.
I look down at the Brazilian rosewood flooring that carries through all seven thousand square feet of my home.
According to the previous owner, it was hand chosen as was every other detail in this place, including the barely used appliances in the kitchen. That room was completed just months before I inherited this place.
A soft knock at my door spins me back around. This building is on Park Avenue and is as safe as safe can be since there’s always a security guard on the premises and two doormen in the lobby who do everything in their power to keep strangers as far away from the residents as possible.
Everyone I love has been given carte blanche to come and go as they please. That’s the benefit of living in one of the four penthouses.
I swing open the door without peering through the peephole. I find my neighbor, Mr. Winters, on the other side.
He greets me with a warm smile and a slight bow. It’s his signature move and I kind of love him for it.
“Hey, Mr. Winters,” I say, stepping back to give him entry to my home. “What do you need?”
“A smile and a cup of sugar.”
Mr. Winters loves sugar in his tea but he always forgets to add it to his grocery list. That’s the only reason I add it to mine once every couple of months.
I take the offered small glass container and set off toward the kitchen.
“Did you get yourself some dinner?” he asks as he passes my take-out bag.
“It’s a salad,” I tell him over my shoulder. “Spinach, apples, walnuts. The dressing is vinaigrette. We can split it if you want.”
“I’ll take a little for lunch tomorrow,” he says. “But with the dressing on the side, please.”
I smile because he’s always so polite. He tells me manners were born and bred into men who are ninety-years-old like he is. I tell him he’s one of a kind.
“I’ll pack that up for you,” I offer. “I’ll grab the sugar first.”
He watches in silence as I fill his sugar bowl before I race back to grab the salad. I fill a small reusable bowl with a generous portion before I toss some of the dressing onto what’s left and snap the lid back on the container to give it to him.
“I can help you carry it home if you’d like.”
He studies me carefully from where he’s standing. “You’re glowing, Delia.”
That’s his polite way of saying I’m sweating. I know I am but I can’t tell if it’s from the searing heat enveloping the city or from talking to Donovan.
“It’s hot as heck out there today.” I fan my face with my hand.
“It is,” he agrees with a curt nod. “But it’s something else. Something is different about you.”
I’m head over heels in crazy like with my brother’s boss and I’m still riding the high of some seriously good sex.
“Maybe it’s the shirt.” I tug on the bottom hem of the Wolf Candy T-shirt I’m still wearing.
“It’s not the shirt.” He pushes his eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s something inside of you. That inner glow you’ve always had is shining brighter today. Maybe a young man is part of that?”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
I finish gathering the sugar and his lunch for tomorrow into one of the paper bags with twine handles that I keep in a drawer just for him.
“I can handle all of that on my own.” He walks toward me. “You sit and eat your dinner and think about what’s got you shining so bright.”
“Okay.” I smile.
“Or who,” he adds with a slow wink of his right eye. “I’ll replace the sugar when I get to the store.”
He won’t, but I don’t mind a bit. I’ll give him sugar whenever he needs it because I enjoy when he pops in.
“You’re sure you don’t need help getting home?” I ask.
“I live across the hall, Delia,” he reminds me. “I’m pretty sure my legs can make that short trek.”
I follow him back to the foyer, but before I can open the door for him, he’s turned back around to face me. “When you first moved in, I wasn’t sure I’d like you.”
He’s told me that before, so I grin. “And now?”
“You’re growing on me, kid.” He pinches my chin. “You’re growing on me.”