Seven
Elle
The irony of an extremely attractive man living in the apartment upstairs is not lost on me. In another world, Lucy and Liam could’ve been right—the whole neighbors-to-lovers set up feels like the perfect opportunity for a meet-cute that sparks a storybook romance.
Except right now, I hate him.
And I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.
But last night—before or after I fell asleep on the hallway floor again—I realized that fighting with Oliver Cole was the first thing I’ve looked forward to in a long time.
His arrogance makes my blood boil, but sparring with him was almost…
fun in a way. It tapped into the kind of energy I’ve been missing since Lucy left.
Do I still loathe him for leaving his dog alone for hours on end?
Yes. Do I think he shares some qualities with a beastly Disney prince?
Also yes. But there was a moment, albeit fleeting, when I didn’t want to fight with him.
I mean, he’s a doctor. A handsome, tall doctor. With nice eyes and muscular forearms.
He could be…
We could be…
But he is infuriating. And stubborn. And I can’t imagine him being any other way.
When I open the door at exactly 5:59 p.m., Oliver stands there, taking up the whole damn frame.
He’s leaning one shoulder against the side of the opening, with his arm outstretched, holding the top of the molding.
The aforementioned forearm muscles are on full display. But that’s not the worst part.
He’s wearing a black Henley.
Neither of us says anything for a few seconds. In my mind, I’m trying to reconcile that I’m still in real life and this guy is still the worst, even though he is wearing the kryptonite of romance readers everywhere.
And he—well, he seems to be checking me out.
I watch him take in my skin-tight yoga pants and white sports bra. His gaze feels hot on my skin, like his eyes can actually send heat rays to my body. I feel my cheeks flush. Abort situation, my brain screams. Make an awkward comment or something!
“Hey buddy!” I say excitedly to Thor, bending down to scratch behind his ears. Oliver clears his throat, seemingly trying to focus himself. The dog enters my apartment without hesitation, galloping in a cute way that makes it look like his paws are too big for his body. Which they kind of are.
I turn my attention back to Oliver as Thor tries to jump on his hind legs to see out my very small window. At first I’m smiling, but then I remember that I’m not supposed to be happy to see him. I raise my brows at the bag in his hand. He follows my gaze.
“Oh, these are some toys. He ate his dinner already, so I put a bone in there and some treats in case you want to give them to him.”
“All the essentials. Are you secretly a helicopter parent?” I tease, taking the bag from him. I place it on my kitchen counter, implying that he could follow me into the room. He takes one step in and hovers awkwardly by the door.
“I would have had a baby monitor on him the last few nights if the shipping wasn’t delayed,” he deadpans. I know he’s being sarcastic, but still, there’s a subtext along the lines of “See? I’m not a terrible dog owner.”
“And before you ask, the bone in there is predigested rawhide, so it’s okay for his intestines,” he adds, gesturing to the bag.
“Someone’s done their homework,” I say snobbishly. I hate that he brings out this side of me. I’m not a stuck-up person. I’m not mean. I just feel like everything he says, I have to have a comeback for. I’m not usually very competitive, but Oliver makes me want to be.
I change the subject. “So I’ll drop him back before I go to work tomorrow. About eight.” Oliver nods.
“Give me your phone,” he commands. I furrow my brows at him. “So you can call me if I don’t answer the door right away. I’ll probably be asleep.”
“Oh.” It occurs to me that I may not have thought this situation through.
This seems like some kind of shenanigan I would involve Lucy in, and then I’d discreetly fade into the background while she figured out what to do.
When she and Liam had their “dark moment,” I threw her on a bus to Catskill and basically made her figure out the rest. Now I’m staking out hot guys’ apartments and babysitting their dogs. How did I get here?
Oliver puts his number into my phone and calls himself. He hands the phone back to me and I try not to focus too much on the millisecond when our fingers touch.
“Thor,” he says, in a stern voice that makes me jump.
The dog waddles over to him, his tail still wagging so hard that the whole back half of his body is moving.
Oliver kneels down and scratches Thor as the dog nuzzles into his chest. “Be a good boy. Don’t let this lady take you into a white van or anything. ”
“Rude,” I interject.
“I’ll see you in the morning, bud.” He puts his hands under the dog’s scruff and touches his forehead to Thor’s snout. Thor licks his nose and my heart melts just a bit. I give Oliver a sympathetic look when he rises.
“He’ll be fine. I promise. So much better than being up there by himself,” I say, placing my hand on the door handle.
“Okay. I still can’t believe I’m doing this, but thanks. I guess,” he adds, unsure.
I shuffle him out the door and keep Thor back with me.
“See ya!” I yell, slamming the door behind him. Payback.
*
The next few days go by pretty smoothly.
I barely see Oliver except for the few minutes that it takes for me to drop Thor off in the morning and for him to do the same at night.
Thor accompanies me to my yoga classes, and he is a hit with the students.
Tanya is less thrilled about it, but she allows it, which is all I can ask for.
And with a furry little buddy curled up next to me, I’m sleeping better than ever.
By Friday, the night of Ruby’s book launch, Thor and I have fallen into a groove. I worked from home so that I could spend the day with Thor while I waited for Lucy to arrive. Oliver had to cover a day shift for another resident, so he’ll be home around nine.
I truly don’t understand how people in medicine have any kind of sleep schedule.
Or how they function on so little sleep.
While also keeping people alive. Kind of concerning.
If his sister knew how crazy his schedule was going to be, she shouldn’t have left the dog with him.
How can you give a dog to someone who works twelve-hour shifts?
I’m hoping that Thor will be okay for the hour in between me leaving and Oliver getting home, since he’s had company all day.
With only a little coercion, Oliver and I even exchanged keys so he could get Thor from my place when he gets back from his shift.
The conversation over text about exchanging keys with Oliver was one I never thought I’d have.
I was running late from work and I had to pick up Thor from Oliver’s apartment because he had to leave.
We only missed each other by a few minutes.
Elle
Can you leave the key under the mat or something?
Oliver
People actually leave spare keys under their door? That is so unsafe.
Oliver
I’ll put the key in an envelope and slip it under your apartment door before I leave. Keep it in case you need it another time.
Elle
Don’t you think you should at least take me out to drinks first before giving me a key to your place?
Oliver
I think we skipped a few steps when we jumped right to co-parenting.
Elle
Can we back up to the part where you own envelopes? You like having them lying around your apartment? Do you send a lot of mail?
Oliver
Envelopes are a perfectly normal thing to own and keep in the house.
Elle
Only if you’re a young homeowner turning into your parents.
Oliver
Are you comparing me to a car insurance commercial?
Elle
That depends, do you also watch documentaries about submarines?
Oliver
No comment.
“Can you explain this arrangement to me again?” Lucy asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
She’s sitting on the carpet in front of my TV with Thor on her lap.
Her thick mahogany hair is up in a curled ponytail, with long bangs framing her face.
Her eyes are painted with an elegant gray eyeshadow and a sleek cat-eye.
It’s a stark contrast to the sweatpants and oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, because she’s procrastinating getting dressed.
“I’m babysitting his dog while he’s at work. It’s not that weird, is it?”
“I guess not, but it’s just unusual for you,” Lucy says with a shrug. “I’m happy about it—especially if he’s as beautiful as you say he is.”
“I didn’t say he was beautiful!”
“No, maybe gorgeous was the word you used?” I can feel my cheeks turning red, and Lucy cackles with delight.
“Would you get dressed already? I’m waiting on you, babe,” I say, trying to change the subject.
Lucy groans, rising from the floor and slinking off to the bathroom as I evaluate myself in the floor length mirror propped against the wall next to my bed.
It’s a dressy night for both of us. Even though we’re only going to Barnes and Noble in Union Square, there are going to be upwards of a hundred people there, and we’re taking Ruby out for dinner afterwards.
I’m wearing a one-shoulder green sweater dress that is a bit more form-fitting than I’m used to.
I’m used to wearing oversized clothes to downplay my boobs as much as I can, but they are pretty much front and center in this ensemble.
I take a look at the clock and realize there’s no changing now. Front and center it is.
Lucy emerges in a deep red satin dress with tights and knee-high boots. We look each other up and down and laugh.
“Shit, we look good!” Lucy exclaims. I shake my head at her and we take a few photos in front of the mirror, kiss Thor on the nose, and head out. He seems to be thrilled with the bone I give him before we leave, so hopefully he won’t be too unsettled.
When we arrive at the store, crowds are already lining up in the lobby.
Since it’s so cold out, the managers must be letting fans wait there for the event instead of outside.
Lucy and I show our I.D.s and head up the escalator to the third floor.
Before I moved to New York, I thought my local library was the best place in the world.
And then I learned there are bookstores with escalators.
Meaning multiple floors. I was in heaven.
There’s a large open area on the third floor that the store uses for events. Since Ruby is so popular, there are folding chairs canvassing pretty much every square inch of the space.
“Well, this is an example of what won’t be happening for my book,” Lucy mumbles as we take off our coats.
“Given that Ruby has written like twenty books and you’ve written one, maybe it’s not realistic to make that comparison.” I shoot Lucy a knowing look.
“Yeah, yeah. Where’s Anne?” Lucy asks, brushing me off. “Wow, they even built up a stage for Ruby. Most authors just sit on a folding chair…”
Lucy’s voice trails off as we both spot our boss on the stage.
She’s waving her hands in a way that only an Italian woman from Brooklyn can, her ringlet curls bouncing with each erratic move of her arms. She’s in high heels and a pencil skirt, which both Lucy and I raise our eyebrows at.
Because Anne is many things, but coordinated is not one of them.
And she should never wear such a constricting skirt with heels.
Anne must have heard Lucy say her name, because she turns towards us. But before the words “Oh my God,” can escape Lucy’s lips, we watch Anne’s knee buckle, and she goes tumbling off the stage.