Chapter 4
AVERY
The next evening, I ran through the city at rush hour to see the only other apartment on my list. The second option I told Sam about went off the market this morning.
I’d been working all day to rebuild my jewelry business from a coffee shop close to Alana’s apartment, since she worked from home, and her place was too small for both of us to do that.
I’d spent most of my time researching platforms that were easy for do-it-yourself websites. That was my starting point.
Up until three months ago, I’d been the proud co-owner of Jewels I didn't think I could control myself.
So this had to work out. It was a studio, which was perfect because I planned to buy a sofa bed similar to the one Alana had and call it a day.
Still, the smell was persistent, and the longer I was inside, the more terrible it became.
Jenkins went to the window, opening it. The sound of the streets filtered in, and the noise was loud. It was Friday evening, and this was a lively neighborhood.
"This smell is getting worse the longer we stay here. Where is it coming from?" There was nothing rotten that I could see, though it wasn't even a scent of rot. It just seemed old.
He shook his head. "It's the damn carpet."
"Right," I said, my stomach sinking. The entire apartment was carpeted.
"It's been cleaned a couple times, but it's just damn old, and the owner refuses to change it."
If this was a permanent smell, no way would anyone live here. Could it really be the carpet?
I lowered myself to my haunches, and yep, he was right.
I stood back up and walked around, thinking hard.
I could bring my cleaning supplies, but from my experience, old, stinky carpets had to be replaced.
They soaked up smoke and all other manner of odors over the years, and no matter how vigorously you scrubbed them, they still stank.
I'd learned that when Mom, Jamie, and I moved into a dingy house, the first one we had in Chicago, and it smelled horrendously.
We ended up changing the carpet at our own cost.
That gave me an idea.
"What if I buy a new one?" I suggested.
"That's a significant cost."
"I would lay it myself," I replied. "I know how to."
He shook his head. "The owner will never agree unless a professional does it."
I bit my lip, looking around. The place really would be great for me. Very small but welcoming. I could already imagine the setup. I'd have twinkle lights over the window. I could make it a home.
"Can you let me know by tonight?" he asked.
"Sure," I replied. After I left, I headed straight home. Alana had a work event in the evening and would be coming home later. I was going to surprise her by making dinner. My skills in the kitchen were limited, but I could make a very good quiche. It was all about the ingredients.
After setting everything I needed on the counter, I began cutting the leek and onions, then mixed them with a can of tuna along with a lot of cream before popping the dish in the oven.
Dinner would be ready when she arrived home.
I preferred using the oven for most of my cooking unless I was short on time, and then I’d use the microwave.
Some people frowned upon using that for cooking, but it could be a trusty helper in the kitchen.
Alana came home just as I was pulling the dish from the oven.
"Honey, I'm home," she said, making me laugh. She kicked off her shoes by the entrance before joining me in the kitchen.
"Wow, you weren't kidding when you said you were making a quiche. I thought you were going to order it." She gave me a sheepish smile. "I've always wanted to come home to someone."
“That day will come,” I said as I put huge slices on separate plates for us.
We sat down at the dinner table, and Alana ate it all quickly. I was glad she liked it.
"How was the apartment?" she asked.
"Honestly, not good," I said. "The carpet stinks."
Alana scrunched up her nose. "That's a huge no-no. You can't get that smell out of things no matter what you try."
"I know."
"So that was the only option, huh?"
"I saw another apartment on Craigslist on my way home. I'm going to check it out after dinner."
While we ate, she told me a bit about the event. Her job sounded glamorous, and it fit her perfectly. I was so happy that my friend had found her calling.
After we finished eating, I pulled out my laptop and looked at my other lead. "Oh, dammit. The listing says occupied already."
“Well, that's too bad. Do you have any others?"
"No."
"Look again. You never know. Maybe some new options popped up since you looked yesterday."
I doubted it. But then again, Chicago was a huge city. I opened three websites and put my filters in—studio and the maximum of rent I was willing to pay—and then pressed Search. Nothing came up.
I groaned. I could probably look for roommates on Craigslist, but did I really want to live with strangers?
"You're considering living with Sam," a small voice said at the back of my mind. But Sam wasn't a stranger in the real sense of the word. At one time, I knew him better than anyone else.
"What are you going to do?" Alana asked me. "Move in with Sam?"
"I don't know. I want to make a pro-and-con list."
She rose from her seat, opening the drawer of the sideboard behind her. "I can't believe you still do those. You need a paper and pen, right? Unless you do it digitally."
"No, still old-school paper and pen. It helps me decide when I see everything in front of me. Handwriting is a big part of it. Don't ask me why."
"Okay." She handed me a torn-off sheet of paper and a blue pen. "Sorry. I don't have colorful ones."
"Doesn’t matter.” In high school, I used to draw pros with pink, cons with blue.
I stared at the sheet of paper. In the pros list, I put the following: great rent, amazing loft, close to work.
I hesitated about the cons list before deciding on the biggest offenders.
1. Sam would be my roommate.
2. Sam is even hotter than he was in high school.
I took a deep breath before the third point, but I wrote it down because it was true.
3. I still react like a schoolgirl when I see him. It might be hard to resist him.
There it was, in black—or in this case, blue—and-white.
"So, what's the tally?" Alana asked. She sat across from me, putting her elbows on the table.
I held out the list for her.
She nodded. "Pretty much the way I imagined it. About that last point… Does he seem to have any sort of reaction to you?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "I was too busy trying to process the way I reacted to him to check for any signs that it was mutual."
"The way I see it, you don't have much to lose. You’re going to live in a great place with a guy you might or might not have the hots for."
"Alana, you're not helping."
"What? I'm just stating the facts. If the attraction is one-sided, you have nothing to worry about. If it's mutual, you could jump his bones at some point." She said this so matter-of-factly, like she was talking about how we would split cleaning chores.
"You’re a bad friend."
She gave me a wolfish smile. "I know, but I can't help myself. Don't you think maybe this is fate?"
I blinked rapidly. "What do you mean?"
"You've come back to Chicago, and suddenly you have an option to live with Sam."
"I also camped on your couch."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but you messaged me on Facebook, and we talked about it. But with Sam, it was, I don't know, serendipity, right? You replied to a post in the alumni group, and he happened to need an apartment at the same time." She shrugged. "Sounds like fate to me."
I pointed at Alana. "Stop. I don't like that road you're taking."
"If you say so."
"I do."
I swallowed hard. My chest felt a bit heavy. I remembered the times when I felt Sam and I were fated for each other, but that was a silly schoolgirl crush. Now I was a grown woman who'd lost her business and needed an affordable place to live while getting back on my feet.
"What are you going to do? Tell the hot doc that you're going to move in with him and possibly jump his bones?" She wiggled her eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes at her. "I’m going to look for some more apartments. You never know. Maybe something will come up. I still have a couple hours until I have to give him an answer." I sighed. "But yes, that's the gist of it."