81. Annie
Chapter Eighty-One
ANNIE
E very Door: opened for me. Except for my car, but he’s wounded, come on.
“ O h man, it’s so good to be home,” Brendan says on a long exhale as he locks the door behind us. We walk from the hallway into the main room of the penthouse, with me in front.
I stop walking. Stunned. “Wow. When’s Donald coming home?”
Brendan eyes me, confused. “Donald?”
“Trump.”
He laughs and lays his hand on my lower back to give me a little push in. There’s a winding staircase going up to an unexpected second floor, in front of us. Right behind it, on the first floor, is a dining room table and before that, a curved, L-shaped couch on a gorgeous rug that must have cost a thousand dollars. I close my hanging mouth and walk to the couch, lowering myself, as my head swings left to right, taking in the masculine opulence. Hardwood Floors. Taupe walls. Simplicity in décor. Art-deco style lamps. The art is minimal and there’s a mirror on the floor, propped against a wall in front of the couch, beside a huge flat-screen television.
He plops the bag of take-out on the coffee table next to a Wired Magazine and calls back to Mark. “Yeah! It’s me. Annie’s here, too.”
Mark pokes his head over the upstairs railing. “Hey Annie.”
“Hi.” I wave, pretty much speechless.
Mark looks to his roommate. “They let you out early… I take it that’s a good sign.”
Brendan stands, looking up at his best friend. “Yeah. They gave me an M.R.I. and we had to wait for the results. Looks good. The doc said I’d heal better at home.” He walks to the kitchen as Mark’s head disappears. I’m guessing he went back to his room, but it’s interesting to me; that was all the conversation they needed to exchange. Men… I love ‘em.
Bouncing on the couch to enjoy the firmness and quality of the material, I look over my shoulder to see Brendan, but he’s out of eye-line. So I wait, having a hard time believing I’m here, and when he comes back into the room two minutes later, he’s carrying two bottles of Guinness in his left hand, I still don’t believe it.
We smile at each other and I open the bag. “I thought you were getting us plates. I’m glad you didn’t.”
He lays the stouts on the table and sits down beside me, watching as I spread out the food. “I figured since you like burgers over steak, you probably wanted to eat them in the box they came in. But I got the Irish girl her home brew. That was a must.”
“Indeed.” I lean over and kiss him before we chow down, each of us closing our eyes on the first bite of yummy. “Mmmm.”
“So good, right?" He picks a fallen sautéed mushroom off the table and tosses it into his mouth. “This is so much better than the hospital food!”
“Night and day,” I say, with my mouth full of bacon cheeseburger as I reach for a French fry. “This is a beautiful home.”
He glances to me, his mouth stuffed, too. He looks around. “You like it?”
Chewing, I nod and hold my index finger and thumb up with a small space between them, indicating, a little bit.
He swallows, his eyes dancing as he says, “I made such a show of why you should come home with me, wouldn’t it have been hilarious if it was a dump?”
Covering my mouth with my free hand, the other holding a dripping burger, I laugh, nodding. He moves a long lock of hair away from my eyes, putting it behind my ear. I stay still, watching him as he concentrates on getting it right. He meets my eyes and we look at each other, quiet. I look away first and pick up my beer, swallowing before I look over to him again. I know he didn’t move, that he’s still staring at me, but when I meet his dark, blue eyes again, my heart swims in my chest anyway. There’s a depth to his look that is far-reaching. A stillness to his body that is locked in, like he’s really present. I wish I could ask him what I think is happening: are you falling in love with me, too? But I can’t ask, so I reach up to his cheek… and just as I’m about to touch it, the phone beeps in his jacket. I pull my hand back to pick up another fry, trying not to worry if it’s Rebecca.
He pulls out the phone and looks at it. He calls upstairs, “Idiot!”
“What?”
“Mark sent me a text message. It’s nothing.”
“Ah.” Blinking away the awkwardness of being left out of a joke, I take another sip of Guinness.
Brendan hits his knee against mine. “He seems to think you’re something else.”
My heart flips over and it takes me a second to cut my eyes back to him. For once with these guys, I’m on the inside. It’s like the reframed memory, like life has mimicked my imagination and made it real. “Really?” I smile and shrug. “He’s right, you know.”
Brendan laughs. “He also said you’re modest.”
I shrug again. “He’s wrong, you know.”
Brendan grins and shakes his head, a burst of laughter taking him over. We eat until there is only salt flakes and drips of ketchup and BBQ sauce left. “Come on.” He stands up and, watching his body move and his light-hearted face glance back at me, I follow him to the other end of the penthouse. He opens a door and I gasp, stopping centered in the doorframe of his room with him just inside it.
He’s watching my face and he stands back as I walk into the room, astounded by the view, my eyes wide. Floor-to-ceiling windows on three long walls surround his king-sized bed, the skyline of San Francisco lit up in front of us. I turn around and stare at him, breathless. And because I can’t help myself, I joke, “It’s a good thing the nearest building is that far away,” I point my finger to the tallest one. “…because they’re about to get a show.”
His grin switches gears and he walks to grab my hips and pull me in for a kiss. With my hands cupping his face to keep a cool distance between me and his bandage, our lips move together as goosebumps roll down my body, lighting up my arms before my legs. I shiver and pull away slightly, my eyes still closed.
“You okay, Freckles?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“You’re sleeping here… right?”
I open my eyes. “Mmhmm.”
He kissed my cheeks, my nose, and my lips. “ You’ve got the contractor coming tomorrow.”
I’m breathing him in, and nodding. “Mmhmm.” My fingers slide into the thick waves of his hair and our tongues find each other, teasing and touching slowly… then faster.
“I want to pick you up and carry you to the bed,” he says, huskily.
“Another time.” I lean up to kiss him again and we pull apart and hold hands to walk together to his insanely huge bed.
“Shit!”
I look up at him, surprised by his tone and the ferocious look on his face. He lets go of my hand and takes several angry strides to the nightstand to grab up a woman’s black hair-tie, walking past me to the bathroom where he disappears to throw it away. I watch him, realizing what’s happening and gulping down jealousy. He reappears in the doorway and leans on it, looking from me to the hardwood floor. “Annie…”
“She did that on purpose.”
He nods, his mind on her and not happy about it. His jaw is tight, his teeth clenched. “Look…”
My hands go up and I walk to him. “Wait! No. It’s okay. I know you’re seeing her and probably a lot of other people, too. I get it. You said, no girlfriends . I’m just happy and I really don’t want to think about any of that right now, if that’s okay. Not tonight. Please. Let’s just have one uninterrupted night before reality stops us again!”
He’s staring at me, like he can’t hear me, or doesn’t believe it. “She hit a new low. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. She’s probably hurting.”
The cloud in his eyes flickers and he smiles and looks away to the view. “Yeah.”
“Are you?” I can’t believe I just asked that! No, no no… I don’t want to know!
His eyes flick back to me and narrows them, thinking. “No. I think I’ve stopped hurting now.” He walks to me and picks up my chin to kiss me. He pulls back and looks at me. “No more interruptions.”