Chapter 5
Zoe
I only came here for a fake relationship, not a place to stay. My instinct is to say no—I barely know the man, after all—but given my shitty situation, I have to consider it.
“Temporarily,” Bennett clarifies. “You can have my guest room until November first. That will give you a month to find a new apartment.”
His voice is cold, and his expression is far from hospitable. I’m sure he doesn’t want me to stay in his guest room; he’s doing it out of obligation.
But he is offering.
“The room has its own lock and barrel bolt, plus an ensuite,” he says. “The bed is a queen.”
Even if Bennett Chung isn’t particularly pleasant, it sounds much better than sleeping on Eddie’s couch, and the location is good, too. The commute will be exactly the same as it was from my old apartment.
“I’ll give you a key to the front door and the security code, and you can come and go as you please. However, if you steal anything or cause any problems…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t finish the threat.
But I get the point. This man has lawyers and money at his disposal, and he could make endless trouble for me if I cross him.
“I understand,” I say.
“One more thing. I have a cat. Her name is Mittens.”
Huh. I didn’t expect this stern man to have a cat. “Mittens the Kitten.”
“She’s seventeen years old.”
An elderly cat, then. “It’s not a very creative name.”
His lips thin. “Do you have a problem with cats? Are you allergic?”
“No.” I’ve never lived with a cat before, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. “I’ll take you up on that offer. I really appreciate it. Don’t worry, you and Mittens will barely even know I’m there.”
He doesn’t argue, but I swear there’s skepticism in his eyes.
“I can’t let you do this,” Eddie says.
Chantal nods solemnly in agreement.
I told Bennett that I’d return this evening with the rest of my stuff, then went back to Eddie and Chantal’s. The three of us are now seated around the kitchen table.
“It’s dangerous,” she says. “You don’t know this guy.”
“There’s a bolt on the door,” I say. “I promise I’ll text you every night to confirm I’m safe, and if anything happens, you know his address and phone number. And where he works.”
“Still.” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t like it. You can stay here—”
“The couch isn’t all that comfortable for sleeping.”
“Then go to Mom and Dad’s. It’s not ideal, but we’ll come up with a story—”
“No. I can’t live with them again. Plus, their house is so far from my office. I’ll be commuting almost two hours each way.”
Eddie can’t argue with that. He runs his hands through his hair.
“I’m not asking for permission,” I say. “This is what I’m doing.” It’s the best of a bunch of crappy options.
“Fine. But I want to meet him. I’m going with you when you move tonight.”
“Of course you are. I’ll need help carrying everything.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Macy says.
This time, when I arrived at the apartment, she was clothed. I wonder if Clifton was here earlier. I can see his hoodie on the couch.
I adjust the bags I’m carrying over my shoulder as Eddie and Chantal exit the bedroom with more of my stuff. I’ve got everything but the furniture.
“I’m not living with you anymore,” I say.
“At least stay until you find another apartment,” Macy protests.
“You just want me to pay rent.”
“No! I’m worried about you.”
I shake my head. “I’ve got it figured out.”
“Where are you going?”
“That’s not your concern.”
Her chin wobbles, like she’s about to cry, and after decades of being her friend, my instinct is to comfort her…but I won’t. Those days are in the past.
“We’re through,” I tell her.
“But we had so many good times together.” She gestures around the apartment, and I think of the afternoon we spent making a gingerbread house last December. We danced and sang along to Christmas songs as we worked. Our kitchen was a disaster afterward—it took hours to clean—but it was worth it.
Now, all those memories are tinged with her betrayal.
My chest feels heavy. A part of me wishes we could just return to the way things used to be, wishes I’d never come home early. It’s hard to part ways with someone who’s been a big part of my life.
But there’s no going back.
“You’re really going to throw everything away because I’m better for Clifton?” Macy asks, tears swimming in her hazel eyes.
“Is she for real?” Eddie mutters from behind me.
Macy glares at him.
“How do you not get it?” I ask. “It’s not about whether you two are better together.
If he’d actually broken up with me first, rather than cheating…
” I shake my head. It doesn’t matter now.
What’s done is done. I pull Clifton’s phone out of my pocket and slap it on the kitchen table. “There you go.”
I don’t wait for her response; I just walk out with my head held high, though I’m a mess on the inside. I’m torn up about the end of my oldest friendship, but Macy doesn’t deserve to see that.
Eddie and Chantal follow me up the walkway to Bennett’s house.
Eddie whistles. “Looks like a nice place.”
I ring the doorbell, and Bennett opens the door. Even though I saw him mere hours ago, I’m still surprised by how tall he is—at least ten inches taller than me—and how his broad shoulders fill the space. And how imposing he appears.
I swallow before forcing a smile. I’m not exactly in the mood for smiling after seeing Macy, but I feel the need to counteract his frosty expression. Besides, he’s helping me out.
“Hi, Bennett!” I say. “This is Eddie, my brother, and his wife, Chantal.”
Bennett nods in greeting. “I’ll show you to your room.”
We slip off our shoes in the entryway, and I follow him up the curved staircase, trying not to stare at the chandelier. Outside a door, he hands me a key ring with two keys.
“For the room and the front door. Get yourself settled, and I’ll show you where everything is.” He walks away.
I enter a bedroom that’s much bigger than the one in my old apartment.
There’s a bed in the middle and a desk by the window, rather than crammed in the corner.
There’s little in the room other than furniture, but it’s a guest room, so that makes sense.
I set down the bags and roll my shoulders back, grateful to let go of my load.
Eddie goes around inspecting every nook and cranny.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“Anything suspicious,” he says.
“You’re sure about this?” Chantal takes my hands. “He doesn’t seem very friendly.”
“He doesn’t need to be friendly,” I say. “I need a room, not a friend.”
Though given I’m now down a friend, I could use one of those, too. But it’s not like I don’t have other friends.
We head downstairs a few minutes later. Bennett is standing by the back door, looking at…who knows what. His hands are in his pockets. When we’re a few feet away, he turns.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“Good.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence.
“It was nice to meet you,” Chantal says.
“But if you try anything with my sister…” Eddie begins.
I elbow him in the side. This really isn’t necessary.
Bennett’s expression doesn’t change. “She’ll be safe.”
I give Eddie and Chantal hugs before they head out, leaving me alone in the big house with Bennett Chung.
He immediately gets down to business. “I assume you’ll leave later in the morning than I do.
Set the security system before you go.” He shows me how to do that, then points out the laundry room and cleaning supplies.
“The cleaning lady comes every Wednesday. If you don’t want her to enter your room, leave it locked, and I’ll tell her not to go in. ”
Next, he heads to the kitchen. I have to scurry to keep up with his long stride.
“You may use any of my dishes and pots, as well as condiments.” He opens a cupboard above the counter.
“The coffee and tea are here.” He closes it and opens a lower cupboard.
“The rice.” After shutting the door, he nods at the rice cooker on the pristine countertop.
It’s an expensive brand, in contrast to the cheap one I own and the old Tatung my parents brought from Taiwan decades ago.
They’ve never replaced it because it still works.
Bennett is very clear about what I can use and doesn’t tell me to help myself to whatever I like. But that’s fine. I’m not a special guest; he’s doing me a favor.
“There’s exercise equipment in the basement,” he says, “should you wish to use it, but I ask that you don’t use it in the mornings before six thirty.”
I assume that’s when he works out. He’s probably the sort of man who wakes up to his alarm at five o’clock and never hits snooze. Hell, maybe he doesn’t even need an alarm to wake up at that hour.
“Got it,” I say.
“Any questions?”
“Yes. What do you do for fun?”
He raises a single eyebrow.
Ha! I was right. He’s capable of moving one eyebrow at a time.
I suppress a laugh and look down. He’s wearing slippers, and there’s something a little wrong about seeing Bennett in slippers. I mean, this man looks like he came out of the womb wearing a shirt with a collar. It’s hard to imagine him ever being naked or having certain physical urges.
God, why am I thinking about that? It’s highly inappropriate.
Besides, not everyone enjoys that sort of fun. Though lots of people do, and if he does, I can imagine there would be something particularly thrilling about getting him…undone.
I shut my eyes.
“Zoe?” he says. “Is my response—or lack thereof—that upsetting to you?”
“I’m fine,” I squeak, keeping my eyes squeezed shut.
“Look at me.”
I feel the tip of his finger under my chin. My body can’t help focusing on that single point of contact. He refused my hug earlier, so this is the first time we’ve touched, and for some inexplicable reason, my pulse speeds up.
When I finally open my eyes, he drops his hand. But I’m now looking at his face, and that’s not exactly helping, especially since he’s still so close. There’s nothing soft about his expression—nothing at all.
It’s captivating.
“If you’re going to live here,” he says, “you have to be honest with me.”
“I’m being honest?”
Oh god. Why did that come out as a question?
But even if he wants honesty, I can’t tell him what I was just thinking about.
I step back. “I suppose I am a bit upset that you didn’t tell me what you do for fun.
I assume you work a lot, but work-life balance is important.
You don’t want to burn out or get high blood pressure.
So, if you have no idea how to have fun, that is concerning, and you are my housemate now, so I’m allowed to be a little concerned about you—”
“I read.”
“Excuse me?”
“For fun, as you like to call it. I read books.”
And I babble when I get nervous.
“Are they dry biographies?” I ask.
He releases an exasperated sigh. “I thought you said I wouldn’t even know you’re here, yet now you’re critiquing my interests.”
“I’m not sure I’d put it that way.”
But thinking about you reading is better than thinking about you without clothes.
What’s wrong with my brain?
“Twenty different emotions just crossed your face,” he says, “but I’ve learned my lesson and won’t make too many inquiries about what’s going on in your mind. I’ll just have to trust you’ll be honest about the important things, yes?”
Ugh. Why do I find his stern tone rather appealing?
I swallow. “Understood.” I turn to head upstairs, then look back at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“I leave just after seven.”
“In that case, I may or may not see you in the kitchen before I leave.”
“Do you drink coffee before you go to work?”
“Yes?” I’m not sure why my voice goes up at the end. I guess this man just makes me flustered.
He nods. “I’ll leave some for you.”
“Okay?”
“Is everything a question to you?”
“Yes?”
That time, I did it on purpose.
And I swear Bennett’s lips twitch.
At one in the morning, I am, once again, tossing and turning as I try to fall asleep, but at least this time, I’m on a comfortable mattress. Also, unlike Eddie and Chantal’s couch, the bed has enough space for me to properly toss and turn.
What a difference twenty-four hours makes.
At this time yesterday, I’d just come up with my plan to ask Bennett to be my fake boyfriend, and now, I’m sleeping in his bed.
Well, not his bed, but a bed in his house.
I usually don’t have trouble with insomnia, but my life has changed a lot in the past two and a half days. When I left work on Friday, I had no idea that this was where I’d be at the end of the weekend.
But it’s not my cheating ex or former best friend who’s occupying most of my thoughts. No, it’s the man who’s sleeping down the hall.
Why do I feel a flutter of excitement when he looks at me with those dark, disapproving eyes? Sure, Bennett Chung isn’t a bad-looking man, but he’s not my type, and just three days ago, I was in a relationship with his brother.
Seriously, what’s wrong with me?
I’m not interested in Bennett. God, no. I’m off men for now.
Sometime next year, I’ll resume my search for Mr. Right—it’s not like what happened with Clifton has made me swear off men forever—but it’s definitely not the time to be looking for someone.
I have more important things to worry about, and I’m also questioning my judgment.
How could I have been so wrong about both Clifton and Macy?
At any rate, men are off the table for now, both romantically and sexually.
(Speaking of which, I should have an STI panel.) Especially cold, serious men like Bennett.
I never understood the appeal of such people—I want to have fun with a partner—but to my annoyance, my body is having a teeny-tiny reaction to him.
It’s probably just confused by all the recent upheaval.
Yeah, that must be it.
Bennett doesn’t seem to like me a great deal anyway, but he’s letting me stay here, even though I’m sure he doesn’t enjoy having people in his space. I should do something tomorrow to show my appreciation for him.
I wonder what he likes to eat?