Chapter 20 #2
Slipping into the men’s room, I was relieved to at least find it empty. But the moment I needed to round a corner, I froze. Not only did the row of urinals have my back to the door, it was hidden from view—anyone would be able to sneak up on me. Nope. I could hold it.
I spun and left, hightailing it back to the safety of André’s office. If he noticed my panic, he didn’t address it. “Ready?” he asked.
With the threat gone, my bladder twinged again, but I ignored it. Having André in sight was enough to assuage the panic. I could wait until we got home. “Yeah.”
Thankfully, the meeting wasn’t too far away, and I really hoped things would go quickly.
Where I grew up, a lot of houses sat away from the road, usually surrounded by woods. In some places, there could be half a mile between neighbors.
That wasn’t the case in New Orleans. You could throw a rock and hit your neighbor’s house, and parking on the street was normal. I had to close my eyes while André parked, the close proximity of the cars freaking me out.
I offered to stay in the car, but André insisted that I come in and see the house. He lowered his voice speaking to the photographer, and I fell into step behind them.
I followed the two men through the wrought-iron gate and up the wooden stairs to the heavy oak door.
André unlocked it and let us in ahead of him.
I was amazed. The beautiful, historic home seemed to have been frozen in time.
There was a fireplace in every room, and two in the master suite.
Victorian chandeliers hung from the high ceilings.
I almost expected to turn a corner and find a 1900’s housewife waiting for her husband to return from war.
Exquisite marble counters decorated the kitchen and bathrooms, and shining hardwood floors lined the hallways. Only the bedrooms had fluffy white carpet that I refused to walk on. I didn’t want to be the person to mess it up.
The master suite was the last to be photographed and when I paused at the door, André took my hand and tugged me over the threshold.
The photographer clicked away, seeming to move around behind us so we wouldn’t be in the shot.
The closet was the size of André’s bedroom, and the inset waterfall shower spanned an entire wall in the bathroom.
“What would someone do with all of this space?” I asked, taking in the double vanity that sat on white French counters with brushed antique gold.
“Well, if they had millions to spend on a house, I’m sure they could figure it out.”
André stood at the window, pointing over the backyard.
“That spot would be perfect for a pool.”
I made a small noise in agreement with him and leaned against the counter, starting to regret the large drink I had with my lunch. My bladder cramped, desperate for relief.
The only thing that even remotely eased the discomfort was looking at André. He strolled around the place, directing the photographer and his confidence was fucking hot.
“What do you think?” he asked once he’d locked up. He put his arm around me and led me back to the car
“It’s gorgeous.” Pain rippled up my sides now, and it showed in my voice.
“Are you okay?”
I tried to breathe through another cramp, and blinked back tears. “Uh, yeah. I’m okay—I’m sorry, I really don’t feel well. I think I should’ve stayed home today.”
André was silent long enough to make me look at him. Green eyes sparkled at me.
“What’s that look about?”
“You said ‘home.’”
An involuntary smile tugged at my lips. “I guess I did.”
André reached across the car, tugging me in for a gentle kiss. “Let’s get you home then.”
Back at André’s building, he parked while I ran up to the apartment. Thankfully, he didn’t ask any questions when I ran straight to the bathroom.
The pain was unbearable, radiating up my back now. I hid until the tears subsided—André couldn’t know. He was only just comfortable enough to leave me by myself after the concussion. I could handle a couple of angry kidneys on my own.
Even after ten minutes and a cold compress, André could tell that I’d been crying. By the time I emerged, he was sitting on the couch in lounge clothes.
“You really don’t feel good, do you?” he asked, opening his arms and letting me settle into his chest.
I didn’t even need to answer. “I’m really sorry I made you skip dinner. Do you want me to make something?” My words were muffled by a combination of his t-shirt, his arm, and the blanket he was spreading out over me.
“Stop it,” he ordered. “I’ve already ordered Chinese, and I’ll clean the apartment after I put you to bed.”
“No,” I protested. “It might help me feel better.”
I took a deep breath, threw the blanket off me, and stood up again.
After shaking off the dizziness, I started by collecting the clothes from the floor.
André’s suits went into bags to be sent off for cleaning, and mine went into the washing machine—except the scrubs from the hospital.
Those went right into the trash. As I turned to walk back to the bedroom, I noticed André staring at me and my soul nearly left my body.
“Don’t watch me like that,” I laughed, feeling lighter for the first time that night.
“Well, I’m nervous, and looking at you helps me feel better.”
“Why are you nervous?”
André patted the seat next to him. His voice quivered as he talked. “Come sit down. I’ve got something for you.”
As bad as I felt, I tried to lighten the mood. “If it’s an engagement ring, I’m going to kill you. Not only is it way too soon, but I look like shit and I’m not in the mood for pictures—”
“Shut up! It’s not an engagement ring!” André spit out through uncontrollable laughter. “Do you really think that’s how I’d do it?”
Andre’s laugh was contagious. It was the kind that you knew made his stomach hurt, and made you want to laugh along with him.
“So, you’ve thought about it?” I asked, taking the seat next to him.
André watched me, worrying his bottom lip. “Maybe I have, but we don’t need to talk about that right now.”
André reached into his pocket, emerging with a silver chain. At the end of it was a small lock, and a large key dangled from it—too large to match the lock. He handed it over, and I noticed there was a word etched into the silver: “Baby.”
I thumbed the too-big key. “What’s this for?”
“The apartment,” he said, and my head snapped up to his bashful grin.
He took the lock from my hands, undoing the clasp.
“I’ve had both for a while, but wasn’t sure when to give them to you.
Now seemed as good a time as any. The necklace is a symbol of our relationship, but the key is my way of asking you to move in—for good. ”
“Did Dylan talk to you?” I asked.
“No, but when you got discharged from the hospital, the idea that you might go back to Georgia with your brother scared the life out of me. And tonight, when you called this place home… I understand if it’s too fast or if you’re just not ready.”
Just as I opened my mouth to answer, we were met with a knock at the door.
“Perfect timing,” André grumbled, setting the necklace on the table.
I grabbed it, slowly walking to the kitchen. A hushed conversation came from the door.
Regan was already in New Orleans. If I left, he would just follow me. I wasn’t safe anywhere but if I had to choose, I wanted to be with André.
André rounded the corner, setting the food on the counter.
“Yes.”
Hope flickered across his eyes, but he quickly masked it. “You can take some time to think about it.”
“I don’t want to. The answer is yes. I want this relationship with you and yes, I’ll move in with you.” I held out the necklace in my hand. “Will you put this on for me?”