Chapter 11
Rory drops her sandwich on her plate and reaches for a napkin. She uses it to mop up the dressing that dripped down her hand, then immediately picks the Reuben back up and takes another huge bite.
“When did you last eat?” I ask, amused by her hurry to inhale her lunch.
Normally, I’d say she was in a rush to get away from me, but Rory suggested this and set it up. So, it seems like she’s just starving.
“I had oatmeal for breakfast,” she tells me after taking a sip of soda.
My nose wrinkles. “Why?”
“Because it’s healthy and nutritious. And easy to make. I was in a rush to get to Pilates.”
“You should have stopped for a doughnut on your way here.”
“Let me guess. That’s what you did?”
“Yep,” I confirm cheerfully. “I had three actually.”
“I have no idea how you look like that.”
“Like what, Florence?” I tease because I believe there was a compliment buried beneath that fried-food judgment.
“Enough small talk,” she states.
“I didn’t realize your idea of small talk was calling me hot.”
“I don’t have all day, Flynn. If we’re really doing this, we need a plan.”
“Agreed.” I wipe my mouth, then ball up the napkin. “Starting with me moving in.”
“Starting with you—what? Why?”
“Because cohabitating is common practice for couples in serious and loving relationships who only have sex with each other. Also, because I need somewhere to live.”
I swallow some Coke, enjoying watching Rory process this. She’s still incredulous.
“Didn’t you sign a lease when you moved back to New York?”
I nod. “I did. It’s an awesome apartment too. So awesome and so in demand that they agreed not to penalize me for breaking the lease, as long as I move out by August 1.”
“August 1? That’s …”
“Tomorrow, yeah. So, a quick decision would be appreciated. I’ve already moved my furniture into a storage unit. It would mostly be clothes … and me.”
“I—why can’t you stay where you are?”
I sigh. “I can’t afford it. And, before you bring up poor financial planning, I was expecting to receive my trust fund any day. With it, my current place would have been totally reasonable. On my salary alone, it’s not.”
“What if I say no?”
“Then I’ll live in my cubicle. Or crash at Kit’s.”
Rory rolls her eyes. “There are a lot of apartments you could afford on your salary.”
“But I’ll get the money as soon as we get engaged. So, in a few months, I’ll have to break another lease to move back in somewhere with a doorman and an outdoor terrace.”
“My apartment doesn’t have an outdoor terrace.”
I grimace. “Disappointing, but I’ll survive.”
She scoffs, then sips her soda.
I decide not to push the topic any more right now. “You can think about it. The story is, we started studying for the bar together. I was recently single, you were recently single, lot of late nights, yada yada. One thing led to another.”
“Yada yada is not going to work, Flynn. People are nosy. They will want to know a lot more than that. Where we went on our first date. Who kissed who first. When—”
“People can want to know whatever they want,” I say. “Doesn’t mean you have to share it. You’re too accommodating.”
She leans forward, lowering her voice to a determined pitch. “If we are doing this, we are doing this, Flynn. It will be believable, and that will require details. Or else you can forget it.”
I hide a smile. I’ll probably never tell her this, but I admire Rory’s commitment. She never does anything partway or with reservation.
“If we were actually dating, would you want to tell every busybody that I took you to Maple & Ash for a steak and kissed you when we got ice cream after?”
“Well … no.”
“It’s none of their business. You’re too polite to say that, so just tell everyone we’re keeping those moments private or whatever.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell Kit?”
I have no fucking clue what I’m going to tell Kit. Considering that seemed pointless until Rory actually agreed to this. Which she still hasn’t.
“Does that mean you’re in?”
She reaches for her soda, using the straw to stir the ice before sucking a delicate sip. I track each move like we’re playing chess.
Rory has always been a worthy opponent. I’m not sure why we ended up adversaries, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t enjoy the strange dynamic we share.
Most people would describe Rory Kensington as predictable. In addition to being accommodating, she’s reliable. She shows up when and where she says she will. Early, usually, like she was for lunch today.
Yet she surprises me. Stomping around in her pajamas, holding a fireplace poker. Showing up at my office. And now, setting her glass down and saying, “I’m in.”