Chapter 10
There were many reasons why Mariah bolted for her apartment when James pulled up at the building. She could barely hear him turn off the engine of his beautiful Mercedes and trail behind her with her satchel. Her face burned from the guilt of James getting wet in the rain. She had been focused on what she wanted and had realized too late that it had come at his expense.
Her face burned even more at the memory of him cradling her in his arms. She had buried her head in his chest, breathing in his musky, fresh scent, and had told herself that she was probably dreaming. She had not been dreaming, though.
Once they had gotten into the car, he had held onto her hand, speaking softly to her all through their drive to her apartment. Like most people, he likely had never experienced interacting with someone who had amnesia. However, unlike almost everyone else she had met, he had tried to help her as best he could.
Now, at the door to her apartment, she fumbled for her keys. She was beyond flustered when she felt him standing behind her as she finally put her key in the lock of her door. His body radiated a warmth that she longed to curl up into and fall into blissful sleep. Finally, she turned the knob. As the door slid open, she prayed James wouldn’t find her apartment too humble.
She had been so proud when she had found the place and had had so much fun decorating it with Veronica. Every item cost less than a hundred dollars except for the oak drawing table and chair that were stationed by the windows of her living room.
Veronica had gotten them for her as a present and had refused to tell her the price, but Mariah suspected they had cost over a thousand dollars. Her colleagues had gushed over it when Mariah had invited them over for a brainstorming session at her apartment.
Aside from the statement furniture, her apartment was decorated playfully in a splash of green and cream. The array of different shades of green—from emerald to mint to moss to grass green, olive, and viridian—was balanced by the soft cream accents. Veronica had told her the green would control the red in her hair whenever she rampaged around the little home.
She didn”t deny that her hair complimented her furniture, but in that instance, when James walked into the house, she saw his lips curl up in a smile. His eyes–which matched the greens of her home–lit up in amusement.
“I didn”t take you for a crazy Ore fan,” he said, closing the door behind him. “All this green,” he laughed and put his hands on his waist. With a shake of his head, he arched his brow at her. “To think you were pretending not to know green was my favorite color too. You probably did your research and figured if your design of my orphanage couldn”t win me over, then the theme of your apartment would seal the deal. You would invite me over and blow me away.”
Mariah let out a breath she didn”t know she was holding. “Of course not,” she laughed and shrugged off his coat from her shoulders. She hung it on her wrist and observed James again. He looked so out of place in her living room, so big and dripping wet. She eyed the drips of water at his feet on her welcome mat and begged him to stay put.
She hurried to her room and ransacked her closet for the largest piece of clothing she owned. Fortunately, she had a Harvard hoodie that Mr. Schneider had given her to keep as a memento of their friendship. She also had an extra-large pair of shorts that had slipped out of the pile of clothes she had gotten from her neighbor to donate to a homeless shelter at a church event.
Giving these to James so he won”t catch a cold counts as giving to charity, doesn”t it?
James was still standing where she had told him to. She motioned for him to take his shoes off and beckoned him forward. “Here,” she placed the dry clothes in his hands and pointed to a small door. “That’s the guest restroom. There’s hot water running and towels inside.” She didn”t want to give him any further instructions. Her ears were already turning red because he was in her apartment. “Dry up. I’ll be back with warm socks.”
With that, she ducked into the hallway and almost ran to her room. She heard James chuckle, and his heavy footfalls let her know that he was doing as he had been told. She raced to her room and slipped out of her own wet clothes. She was in and out of the bathroom in record time. She felt anxious at the thought that James might wander around and walk in on her while she was wrapped in a towel.
Stop imagining the worst, Mariah, she cautioned herself as she dressed up in sweatpants and a tee shirt. James is a gentleman. He would never do that.
Grabbing her largest pair of long socks, she ran a hand through her red curls and found a tangle. Letting it loose from the ponytail was the only way to let it dry properly. She had intended to brush it out properly after James left, but she grabbed her brush as she left her room. The longer she left it unbrushed, the more tangled it would get.
She reappeared in the living room to find it empty. The sound of running water sounded from the guest restroom. She blushed red like her hair at the thought of James taking a shower in her house.
Get a grip, girl!She urged herself.
Leaving the socks on the couch where he would see them, she retreated to the kitchen to assess what to offer him. She hadn”t made dinner and didn”t like ordering takeout. She settled on just making him a cup of hot chocolate for now. She had chicken marinating in the refrigerator, and she could ask him to wait while she threw together a casserole.
Mariah returned to the living room to find James looking lost in the middle of the room. He had his damp clothes in one hand and the socks dangling from the other. She told herself not to laugh.
She dropped a steaming cup of chocolate on the small coffee table, hoping he would appreciate the pink marshmallows she had added. Then she grabbed his wet clothes.
“I’ll wash these for you,” she offered. “You must be hungry and cold and exhausted from today. Chocolate?” she pointed to the mint green mug on the table. “Just give me some time to get you dinner.”
Mariah didn”t wait around for him to give his permission. She slinked back into the hallway and popped her room open. She tossed his clothes into her laundry basket where his coat lay and zoomed off into the kitchen. She worked fast cutting vegetables, grating cheese, and removing the chicken that she had had marinating in the fridge.
After a half hour, she bent over her oven and smiled at her casserole cooking.
A low voice from behind her made her jump. “That looks and smells delicious.” She stood upright and turned to find James standing by her kitchen door. He was so muscular and tall that he took up the whole doorway.
In his hand was the empty mug. “You wouldn”t believe how loudly my stomach rumbled at the aroma. I had to see it for myself.” He gave a small smile, and her knees went weak.
Get a grip, girl!She admonished herself again and moved to take the mug from him. She added it to the pile in the sink. She would wash the dishes after dinner.
“Your hair…” James started to speak as she turned to him.
Instinctively, her hands flew to her red curls. She had hoped that he wouldn”t notice how tangled it was. Her fingers brushed it with nervous hands. She thought of the brush she had discarded on the sofa with the socks.
“You should let it down more,” he continued. “It suits you this way. Makes you…” he drew out his words as if he was in deep thought, “more beautiful.”
“Oh,” she managed to utter before her face turned as bright as a tomato. She let her hair fall like a curtain around her face, hoping it would hide her burning cheeks, and ushered him back to the living room. “I apologize for not having a TV to entertain you while you wait.” She cleared her throat, looking for a new topic aside from her hair.
“I noticed,” James said, dropping to the couch. “Calm your worrying heart. I don”t spend my free time in front of a TV. I would rather peruse the scrapbook I spied on your shelf.”
Mariah’s gaze flew from the brush she was reaching for to the large orphanage scrapbook on her shelf by the window. “Well, there’s not much to see. Just memories from over the years.” she shrugged it off, hoping he wouldn”t want to look through it.
“Memories are an important part of your story, and pictures speak a thousand words into each person’s story,”” James said and rose to his feet. He plucked the scrapbook from the shelf. “With your permission, I”d like to glance at your past.”
He asked politely. She knew she didn”t have a choice. It was something interesting to do in her house, and she would rather not have James die of boredom before dinner was done. She nodded her approval and proceeded to sit down on the green carpet near the couch he was sitting on.
Mariah busied herself brushing out her curls. Her eyes were glued to James. He smiled as he looked through the scrapbook. He asked her about the stories behind some items in her book. As she answered the questions, she felt like her life as an orphan had been full of epic adventures.
Now and then, he would glance up at her, and their eyes would lock. The air in her lungs would rush out, leaving her breathless. He would smile brightly, and her heart would find itself in her ears, running wild. She would look away first, struggling to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay. When she couldn”t take it anymore, she rose to her feet, gave an excuse about checking on dinner, and disappeared into the hallway.
As she entered the kitchen, she prayed silently. God, please, help me, or I’m going to make a fool out of myself.I need your help because I don”t know what to do with these feelings.