Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANDREW
I watch the numbers rise and with every floor up we go, I feel a little more of my excitement grow.
The longest week in all of history.
I’ve never paid much attention to elevators before, never had reason to. But as this is the only way I can get up to her, the sixty seconds locked in a small box feels like a lifetime.
To say I’m obsessed with this woman is an understatement.
She’s the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing on my mind at night, and I don’t even know where this is going but damn, I couldn’t stop it even if I tried.
I keep telling myself that it will fizzle out soon because if history has taught me anything it’s that I bore easily.
But somehow with her, it’s the polar opposite, my fascination with her only grows by the day.
The elevator doors open and Digby comes into view, standing there in his stuffy suit, he looks me up and down before catching himself and forcing a smile. “Mr. Watson.” He nods.
“Hello.” I step out of the elevator without saying a word to the attendant, everyone is so fucking rude in this building and I fear their lack of manners is rubbing off on me because I honestly don’t give a fuck if they like me or not.
The elevator doors close and I’m left alone with Digby, his eyes hold mine and it’s blaringly clear what he thinks of me being here without my massage table. “Miss Rothchild is held up in a Zoom meeting in her office.” He turns. “You may wait in the lounge.” He walks off. “This way.”
My stomach twists with an unnamed emotion, not anger…not embarrassment, something lurking beneath the surface that I haven’t felt before.
I follow him into the lounge and he turns and gestures to the chair. “You may sit there.”
May I?
“Thank you, Digby.” I roll my lips as I practice restraint. “You may go home for the night.”
His eyes hold mine and an unspoken message flashes between us.
Don’t piss me off, asshole.
“I’m….”
“Dismissed.” I finish his sentence. “Where is the office?”
He opens his mouth to reply before stopping himself.
“I’ll find it myself.” I turn and walk off down the hall, I think I saw it on the night I went to Wanking Gate in the bathroom. I open one door and then I hear her husky voice coming from the end, I walk down and open the door just a tad and peer in.
Mabel is sitting at a large desk facing the door, her computer monitor is facing her and I can hear people talking.
She glances up and flicks the camera and microphone off. “Hi. Sorry, I’ve been caught up.”
Just the mere sight of her makes my body tingle with anticipation, I curl my finger in a come-here gesture.
She points to the computer.
“Now,” I mouth.
She slides out of her chair, walks over and I take her into my arms and kiss her. “I won’t be long, I’m sorry,” she whispers against my lips.
“That’s fine, take your time.” I kiss her again. “Get rid of Digby though. He’s annoying.”
She smiles and pulls out of my arms and walks out into the hall. “Digby,” she calls.
“Yes, Miss Rothchild.”
“You may finish up for the night.”
He says something in return but I can’t hear what he said.
“No. That’s okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for today.”
She reappears and as she walks past she gives me a quick kiss on the lips before sitting back down at her desk, she then flicks the camera and mic back on. I watch on as she slides seamlessly back into character. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that,” she replies without missing a beat.
I peer back out into the hall to see Digby disappearing into the elevator, I wait for a moment and walk back out into the hall and down into the kitchen.
It’s seven thirty at night and she’s still working, the poor thing must be exhausted. I look around at the perfect kitchen, the grand furnishings, and the stunning view of lights twinkling over New York.
The apartment is perfect. Spotlessly clean, but somehow it feels cold, almost sterile, with nothing homely about it.
I thought we were having dinner….
I pour a glass of wine and head back down to her office, I knock softly and her eyes glance up, I hold the wine out and a smile flashes across her face before she flicks the camera back off.
“Here.” I put it down in front of her.
“I’m working,” she whispers.
“Aren’t you the boss?” I kiss her temple. “Drink all the fucking wine you want.” I turn and leave her alone, return to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine.
Now…. I open the refrigerator, what will I cook?
MADISON
The meeting finally winds up and with wineglass in hand, I make my way out of my office, my senses are instantly charmed with the heavenly scent of something cooking.
“What in the world?” I walk into the kitchen to see Andrew standing at the cooktop stirring a pot, he has a tea towel slung over his shoulder and music is playing through his phone.
He’s in blue jeans that fit in all the right places and a black T-shirt.
As he stirs the pot I can see the muscles in his forearm flex.
His hair is just-fucked messy perfection and damn… what a vision he is.
I blink…in disbelief.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He glances over to me. “Making you dinner.”
Dinner is already prepared and in the warmer, my chef cooked it this afternoon in preparation.
“You don’t need to cook for me.” I frown. “That’s not what….” I shake my head. “You didn’t come here to do chores.”
He screws up his face as if I’m from another planet. “What are you talking about? Looking after someone you care about isn’t a chore, Mabel.” He keeps stirring the pot. “Besides, I enjoy this.” He casually shrugs. “Acts of service are my love language.”
Love language?
Wait what….
I blink again…shocked to my core.
“I hope you like carbonara.” He taps his wineglass with mine before leaning in and kissing me softly.
I nod, unable to push a word past my lips.
I won’t mention dinner in the warmer, don’t want to ruin the moment.
I look around the kitchen and the messy chaos on the counter, ingredients are everywhere.
Milk and cream are out, salt and pepper, the chopping board and onion skins, bacon.
Everything he has used is left out and I’m not sure my kitchen has ever been so messy.
Two placemats are out on the counter with knives and forks, salt and pepper is out beside a bowl of freshly grated parmesan cheese.
What the fuck?
“Sit, baby.” His hand slides down to my behind and his lips drop to my neck. “After dinner I’m going to run you a hot bath and you can soak your day away.”
I blink again…. Am I in an alternate universe right now?
“Only if you get in with me,” I mutter, distracted, as I eye the pile of dishes in the sink. He’s not going to just leave them there, is he? Surely not….
It’s taking all my might not to wash them up and immediately put them away.
“Oh, I’ll be getting into you alright.” He kisses me again. “You can count on it.”
It’s late, the moonlight is shining through the bedroom window, and we lie on our sides facing each other. We’ve been talking for hours and laughing at stupid jokes.
Tonight has been perfect, better than perfect.
Andrew cooked me dinner, and true to his word we soaked in a deep hot bath and then made love in the shower.
Made love.
Tonight was different, we didn’t fuck. It was slow and measured, tender.
“I’ve got a question for you.” He smiles.
“Hit me.”
“If you found out right now that tomorrow was your last day on earth, what would you do?”
“Oh.” I frown. “Umm…. Freak out, most probably.”
He chuckles. “And then what?”
“Umm, clean my house and dispose of everything private so that nobody has to do it after I’m gone.” I think for a moment. “Make sure that my will was up to date.”
“Uh-huh….”
I twist my lips. “Back up all of my computers and send everything to my team. Write them a thank you letter for all that they have done for me.”
He falls silent as he listens.
“Throw out my vibrators.”
“What?” He sits up and looks around. “Where are those fuckers? I’ll throw them out for you right now.”
I giggle.
He lies back down and snuggles in to face me. “Go on.” He smiles softly as he reaches over and cups my face in his hand. “What then?”
I think for a moment, what is my favorite thing to do…. I don’t even know, really. “I’d go to Pilates and then out for dinner with my friends and….” I shrug. “I don’t know.”
He smiles as if taking everything in.
“Why, what would you?” I ask.
“Hmm.” He thinks for a moment. “Before I went to sleep I would open the drapes in my bedroom.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because I want to wake up to the sun making rainbows on my wall.”
Oh….
“And I’d lie there for a while and listen to the birds sing.”
Odd.
“You like birds singing?” I ask.
“Yeah, I do.” He smiles wistfully. “One of the greatest pleasures of my life is finding beauty in the mundane.”
He’s deep.
I swallow the lump in my throat, suddenly uncomfortable with how I answered.
“I’d then make blueberry pancakes for my girls and we would sit together on the back porch and eat them together.”
I get a lump in my throat as I listen, no idea why his words are having this effect on me…. He isn’t dying and this is only figurative. “What then?” I whisper.
“I would go to ballet.”
“You like the ballet?” I ask, surprised, I would never have clocked him for a ballet kind of guy.
“Just my girls’ ballet with Miss Vanessa, Kaia would have two buns and glitter gel and Birdy wouldn’t get a hole in her stocking.”
The air disappears from the room, his words a vacuum of emotion.
Still and poignant.
“And then I would go to my parents’ house and we would have a big celebration lunch with my family.” He reaches down and fiddles with the blanket.
I listen. “What would you eat?”
“Pie.”
“You like pie?” I smile. “Which one?”
“All of them.”
“You have to pick one.”
“No I don’t, it’s my last day. I’m having apple and pecan pie. Possibly pumpkin too.”
I giggle as I imagine everyone eating pie. “And then what?”