Chapter 29
29
William
I tug my tie off and toss it on the black leather bench that is centered beneath one of the massive windows in my bedroom. The décor in here was carefully chosen by one of the city’s best interior design firms. Whenever they requested my input, I’d tell them they had my full trust because they did.
They transformed an empty and uninspired space into the penthouse of my dreams. All the work that’s gone into making all four thousand square feet feel like home is almost complete. The kitchen is still undergoing a massive renovation. I promised Opal a home-cooked meal tomorrow night, so I need to consider my options.
I rid myself of my suit jacket and vest, hanging both on a rack in the walk-in closet. My shirt is next. It lands in the bin that will be emptied when I go to Roberto’s dry cleaning shop to drop off my worn shirts and whatever suits need a refresh. That typically happens once a week when I remember to run the errand.
After kicking off my shoes and socks, I drop my pants and toss them onto the bench, too, before heading to the kitchen to assess its state.
Courtesy of a well-honed smart home system, the blinds that cover the windows lower into place each day at sunset. That’s a good thing since I’m currently wandering my home in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.
I round the corner and enter the kitchen. Shaking my head, I let out a chuckle. “So close yet so far.”
Another week or two and I’ll be able to cook dinner for Opal in here, but the granite countertop for the island has yet to be installed. Also, I’m waiting for a new dishwasher to be delivered, although that’s not a deal breaker when it comes to hosting the most beautiful woman in the world for dinner.
In fact, I could swing it. There’s enough counter space to grant me the room I need for preparation, and the old dishwasher still functions, although it’s noisy as hell. I’m pretty sure the people who live below me can’t hear each other talk when I run it.
I stand in the shadow of the light emanating from over the gas range and consider what the text message I’m about to send Opal should say.
I’ve never invited a woman here, and that’s not because it’s been a construction zone since I moved in. It hasn’t. This is my sanctuary. It’s the one place in the city I can retreat to that’s completely mine. My siblings have only made it past the doorman a handful of times because I usually meet them at a restaurant or one of their apartments.
I exit the kitchen and head straight to the main living area, where I dropped my phone when I got home. I scoop it off the couch and glance at the screen. Notifications of several missed calls and at least a dozen text messages greet me.
I skim them quickly to check if Opal has reached out since I left her at Turquoise Crown with Posey. I admit I wasn’t thrilled with the surprising news that Opal had plans tonight, but something told me it had slipped her mind. Her expression when Posey brought up the baby store opening said it all.
I open my contact list and find Opal’s name immediately. I contemplate starting this exchange with some small talk about whether she’s enjoying the event she’s at, but she can fill me in on that tomorrow night.
All I want right now is to firm up plans with her before something, or someone steals her time away from me again.
William: Does dinner at 8 tomorrow night work for you?
I send it and head to the cupboard to grab a glass that I can fill with water.
By the time I make it to the sink, her response is lighting up my phone’s screen.
Opal: 8 sounds great. Point me in the right direction and I’ll be there.
Setting my phone down on the counter, I look around, noting the island that doesn’t have a countertop and the missing pulls on some of the drawers. I’m a man who prides himself on perfection in every aspect of his life. I’m also a man who values his privacy. I know when I walk into this penthouse I won’t be greeted with a fleeting memory of a woman I took to my bed here. I won’t recall fucking anyone against the window. This place is unblemished. It’s a blank slate, and that’s how I need it to remain, at least for now.
I fill my glass with water, down the cool liquid, and type out a response. I send her the address of the apartment I bought in Brooklyn years ago. It’s still furnished, just as it was when I lived there. When I packed up and moved here two years ago, I left virtually everything behind.
Her reply is almost instant.
Opal: You live in Brooklyn? Lucky you! I love that neighborhood. I’ll be there right at 8. See you then!
A wave of guilt washes over me as I read the text. I’ve occasionally taken women to my Brooklyn apartment for one-night stands. Opal isn’t like any of those women, but I don’t direct her to come here instead as I type out my final text message of the night and press send.
William: See you then.