Chapter 46
I hop back on the T, but instead of disembarking at the Back Bay, I ride the train over to the South End, to a wonderful fabric store where I can look at options for the coffee shop and pick up samples to add to the mood board.
The Sewfisticated Thread has been a staple in Boston for over fifty years, drawing a mix of hobbyists, students, and the increasing number of professional fashion designers who have made the city their home. And, of course, people like me.
When I arrive back at the Glendale, I go straight to my office.
I’m still there, working on the mood board with my new fabrics, when Sam comes home.
He pokes his head in the door to say hello and tells me he’s heading down to the basement to put laundry on.
I’m having so much fun that forty-five minutes pass before I realize he hasn’t returned.
I grab my phone and call him, but he doesn’t answer.
Instead, I hear his ringtone in the other room.
When I step out of the office, his phone is lying on the kitchen island.
I hang up and go looking for him.
Sam is still in the laundry room, and he isn’t alone.
Kalina is perched, cross-legged, on one of the dryers.
She’s wearing a tight white tank top and just as tight high-waisted gray leggings.
The woman doesn’t have an ounce of fat on her body.
Sam is standing nearby, leaning against the wall.
The two of them are deep in conversation.
When I enter the laundry room, they look around and fall silent.
Sam takes a step back. Kalina meets my gaze with smug self-confidence.
“Checking up on your man?” she asks.
I ignore her and focus my attention on Sam. “You’ve been gone a long time.”
“He was talking to me,” Kalina says before Sam can reply. “I was just saying how much I enjoyed dinner the other night. We should do it again soon. Maybe you can come over to my place this time.” Her eyes shift to Sam. She uncrosses her legs. “I can be very entertaining.”
“I bet you can,” I snap, overcome by a sudden desire to take the woman by the throat and throttle the life out of her.
“Jordan?” Sam looks shocked. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say over the rumble of the washing machine.
Our empty laundry basket is sitting on the floor next to it.
But there’s another, smaller laundry basket there, too, and this one is still filled with clothes.
A lacy white sheer demi bra sits atop the pile, almost as if it had been placed there deliberately. I wonder if it was.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think the two of you need some privacy,” Kalina says, sliding down off the dryer. “I’ll come back later.”
She picks up her laundry, then heads for the door, stepping around me. I watch her go, waiting until she gets into the elevator before turning my attention back to Sam.
“I thought you weren’t going to see her anymore.”
“She came down while I was loading the washing machine. What was I supposed to do, ignore her?”
“That would be a good start.” Even as I say this, I realize that I sound like a totally unreasonable bitch, but I can’t stop myself. Because the last thing I expected was to find the pair of them together down here looking so friendly after I told Sam how I felt about her, and it hurts.
“Jordan, this is ridiculous. She’s our neighbor. We’re going to cross paths. Regardless of what you think of her, we still have to be polite.”
“You don’t need to be polite for three-quarters of an hour. What were you even talking about, anyway?”
“I told her that I’m too busy to help with the Wainwright Building, like you wanted. I said I’d text her the names of some other lawyers.”
“Okay. That accounts for ten minutes, tops. What else?”
“I don’t know. Just stuff. I could hardly say that I’m not going to help her anymore, then leave without saying another word. It would be rude, and we don’t need to go around starting feuds with the neighbors.”
“Still seems like a long time.”
Sam frowns. “I was giving her some advice. Figured I owe her that much for agreeing to help, then going back on my word.”
“You don’t owe her anything.”
“I’m just trying to do the right thing here, Jordan.” The washing machine finishes its cycle. Sam turns to open the door, then looks back at me. “I don’t understand why you’re being so weird about this.”
“Are you serious? I come down here and find the pair of you huddled as if . . .” I trail off, not sure I want to voice what’s going through my head.
“As if what, Jordan?”
“If you can’t figure it out, I’m not telling you.” I spin on my heel and stomp toward the elevator. I might be overreacting—I’m positive that’s how Sam sees it—but my gut is telling me otherwise. “Are you coming back up, or did you want to wait for that woman to return?”
Sam doesn’t reply. Instead, I hear the dryer lid being lifted and then the sound of clothes dropping into it.
When the elevator comes, I step in without looking back at him.
On the fourth floor, I head toward our apartment, passing Kalina’s door on the way.
I hesitate, tempted to knock and tell her to stay the fuck away from my fiancé.
But deep down, I know that Sam is right.
We don’t need to start a feud with the neighbors.
Which is why I keep going, but as I enter our apartment and close the door, I’m overcome by a sudden feeling that we’re not done with Kalina yet. Not in the slightest.