Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
ALLY
“Is that Sarah Hayes?” Drew asks.
It’s the morning after my night at his condo.
We’re at my apartment, waiting for Robbie to show up to look at the water damage.
Drew is staring at the one and only picture hanging in the apartment, of Sarah and me in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Her arm is draped around my shoulder, and we’re laughing as though we’ve just heard the world’s most hilarious joke.
Looking at the picture, you’d never guess that I’d just lost my first-round match at the French Open, or that Sarah hadn’t even made it through qualifying. We were only nineteen at the time, and we still had our entire careers ahead of us.
“Yep, that’s me and Sarah Hayes,” I confirm. I’m impressed Drew recognized her from a seven-year-old photo.
But I guess it isn’t that surprising, since Sarah’s currently ranked number three in the world. She’s also gorgeous, and Nike’s basically made her their face of women’s tennis.
“You guys were friends?” Drew asks.
“Still are,” I tell him. “We were roommates at a tennis academy when we were teenagers, and she was my best friend on the tour.”
“Do you still keep in touch?”
“Yeah, we’re still pretty close. I hardly ever see her, because she’s on tour most of the year, but we FaceTime almost every week.
She’s having a great season. I think she’s got a great shot at the French this year.
” The French Open started a week ago, and Sarah just made it through the third round.
Drew nods. Fortunately, he’s too polite to ask the questions he’s probably thinking. Like, is it painful to watch your friend do so well when you washed out of tennis?
Because the answer is yes. It’s very painful. Especially since I could beat her pretty easily when we were teenagers.
Am I jealous? Obviously.
And do I feel guilty for being jealous? Absolutely.
“Do you know, I’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower?” Drew says instead. “I went to Paris a couple years ago for a conference, and I wanted to go. But we only had one afternoon free, and my friend convinced me to go to the Louvre instead.”
“It wasn’t necessarily the wrong choice,” I say thoughtfully. “But you should go back. There’s so much else to see in Paris.”
“I will sometime.”
“I’m just going to get changed,” I say, darting to my tiny bedroom to throw on clean clothes.
When I rejoin Drew, he’s frowning at the water damage in the living room. A large section of the linoleum floor is warped, and part of the wall is still wet. “You know, you’re welcome to stay with me for as long as you need,” he offers.
“But . . .” My sentence trails off, because I have to admit, it’s tempting. Drew’s condo is within walking distance of the hospital, and his pull-out couch is more comfortable than my bed.
“Just keep it in mind,” Drew says. He glances at the clock on my oven, which reads 11:28. “Didn’t your landlord say he’d be here at eleven?”
“Yeah. Punctuality isn’t exactly Robbie’s strong suit.”
Ten more minutes pass before Robbie shows up. As usual, he’s dressed like a preppy university student, in designer jeans, expensive sneakers, and a red polo shirt with the collar popped.
“Hey, Ally.” I get a whiff of cologne as Robbie pulls me in for an awkward half hug.
Drew clears his throat, and Robbie glances up at him. “Oh, hey. You must be Ally’s boyfriend?”
“That’s right,” Drew says, sticking out his hand for Robbie to shake. “Drew Malone.”
“Pleasure,” Robbie says, shaking Drew’s hand. His eyes sweep across the apartment and settle on the wet wall and warped floor. “I see what you were talking about,” he says with a nod. “It looks mostly dry already. You did a good job cleaning it up.”
I take a deep breath in an effort to keep hold of my temper. “Robbie, there’s water in the wall and under the linoleum. The drywall needs to be replaced, and the linoleum needs to be pulled up—”
“It’s not that bad, Alexandra,” he counters.
“It’s pretty bad, Robbie. If you don’t deal with it properly, it’ll start to smell. And there’s clearly an issue with the foundation, so unless it’s fixed, this will keep happening.”
Robbie looks amused. “I didn’t know you were a contractor, Alexandra.”
I take a deep breath. “You don’t need to be a contractor to see there’s a problem here.”
“I’ll get someone in to take a look,” Robbie says, as though he’s doing me a favor.
“When?” I press.
“Soon,” he says vaguely.
Soon isn’t good enough. Soon means Robbie’s hoping that if he ignores the situation, it’ll fix itself.
“Robbie, I’m pretty sure that the longer you wait, the more it’ll cost to fix.”
“Chill, Alexandra,” Robbie smirks and lowers his voice a little. “Maybe you should spend another night with your boyfriend, see if he can find a way to help you relax.”
Up until now, Drew’s been lounging against the wall, pretending to stare at his phone. Giving me the space to fight my own battle. And apparently it’s given Robbie the impression he might not notice a suggestive comment, or that he might not care if he did.
But Drew clearly noticed. The change in him is barely perceptible—he’s still lounging against the wall with his phone in his hand—but it feels like the air has been sucked from the room.
And when he looks at Robbie, his eyes are angry enough to melt ice. “Are you offering to let Alexandra end her lease early?” he asks.
“What?” Robbie asks in confusion.
“Because I’m sure you weren’t suggesting she should stay with me and continue to pay you rent.”
“I didn’t mean she should move permanently,” Robbie blusters. “I just . . .” He trails off when he realizes that explaining his meaning won’t help.
“But there’s also the mold situation,” Drew interrupts. “And obviously that will need to be taken care of too.”
“What mold situation?” Robbie asks.
“There’s mold on the bathroom ceiling,” Drew says, even though I’m pretty sure he’s never been in my bathroom. “Which means it’s probably in the walls, too, and it’s a health hazard. Not to mention the mold you’ll have from this leak. You’ll need to hire a mold specialist—”
“There’s no mold,” Robbie says defensively.
Drew shrugs. “Better safe than sorry, though, right? I went to med school with the Medical Officer of Health, I’ll ask him who he recommends.” He taps at his phone. “Actually, maybe I’ll just ask him to arrange an inspection.”
Robbie’s eyes widen. “Are you threatening me with a health inspection?”
“Of course I’m not threatening you, Robbie,” Drew scoffs. “This isn’t the mafia.”
Some of the tension leaves Robbie’s shoulders. “Right,” he says with an awkward laugh.
But Drew isn’t done.
“I’m a neurosurgeon, Robbie,” he says. His tone is deceptively pleasant, but his dark eyes are hard. “If I wanted to threaten you, I’d be talking about drilling holes in your head, not a fucking health inspection.”
Robbie blinks, clearly unsure if Drew’s serious or not. “Uh, okay,” he says weakly, turning to me. “Are you looking to move out early, Alexandra? Because if you are, I, uh, I guess I could let you out of your lease.”
I hesitate for a moment. Obviously, I’d be thrilled to move out of this apartment, and to never see Robbie again. I was already planning to move in the fall, once I’d made it through probation at work and saved a little money.
But right now, I don’t have anywhere else to live, and it’ll take at least a few weeks to find a new place.
“Can you give us a minute, Robbie?” Drew asks.
Robbie steps out without a word of protest. He must really be afraid of Drew.
“Did you really go to med school with the Medical Officer of Health?” I ask Drew.
A smile tugs at his lips. “I’m not sure who it is, so . . . it’s possible I did.”
A giggle slips out of me. “It was a good bluff.”
“Thank you.”
“And that line about drilling holes in his head . . . I think he thought you were serious.”
“Nah,” Drew says, but his lips twitch. “You should move in with me.”
“Drew, I—”
“Think about it, Ally,” he says, and his expression turns serious. “Robbie’s an asshole, and he’s got a key to this apartment.”
“That’s true,” I admit. “But I’ve lived here for months and he hasn’t tried anything. And I think he’s afraid of you, so—”
“Ally, there’s a leak in the wall,” Drew points out, gesturing to the bubbling paint. “The next time there’s a rainstorm it’ll probably flood again. And I’ve got extra space in my condo. You might as well stay for the three months we’re pretending to be in a relationship.”
“Well . . .” It’s an incredibly tempting offer. Drew’s condo is gorgeous. It’s close to work, there’s a great view of the lake, and the pull-out couch is stupidly comfortable.
If I live there for three months, it’ll be painful to move out.
But even worse? Living with Drew might trick my heart into thinking this who thing isn’t fake. So far, pretending to date him has been easier than I thought. He’s surprisingly considerate, and there’s a wicked sense of humor underneath the sarcasm.
And watching him take on Robbie this morning? Damned hot.
But Drew’s not looking for a relationship. He made that clear from the start, and I can’t let myself forget it.
“I could pay rent,” I offer. That would make it seem more like a business arrangement. “I might as well give it to you instead of Robbie.”
“No, you couldn’t,” Drew counters. “You’re doing me a favor, remember? When we see Nina Tate at the Spring Fling, we’ll be able to tell her we’re living together. In case she’s still considering coming to Somerset for her post-doc.”
I know there’s a flaw in Drew’s argument. We could lie to Nina Tate about our living arrangements, and she’d never know. It’s not like we haven’t lied about the rest of the relationship.
But right now, I don’t care. If he’s willing to let me live in his condo rent-free, I won’t say no.
“Okay,” I say. “Thank you.”