“I’m in his apartment,” I whispered to myself, standing in the small foyer right inside the door where I’d been standing for the last fifteen minutes. I was going to have a panic attack. My bag with all of my belongings still hung from my shoulder heavily, but for some reason I just couldn’t make myself move. I looked around the apartment, equal parts bewildered and awed. He’d come a long way from the small studio apartment I’d spent one night in with him long ago. I stared around at the lavish space. The nice leather furniture and expensive rugs, but still I didn’t move.
“Why am I in his apartment?” I still couldn’t believe it. Somehow, our conversation had gone from ‘please help me with my child’s failing heart’ to ‘go stay the night at my apartment’. Anthony and I didn’t keep in touch. We really weren’t old friends. We’d had one amazing night together that had ended so badly I’d tried to block it from my mind.
I was actually standing in the foyer trying to block this very minute from my mind, too. Who does that? Hands someone they had a one-night stand with the keys to their damn home? Was he some kind of saint? My heart fluttered at that. Good, I needed a saint right now.
Light blues and browns surrounded me, and I thought the place definitely had a homey feel. Even though I didn’t really know the Anthony Jackson of now, I could somehow see him lounging on the big, plush leather sofa that took up most of the living room. The TV would be on and his big body—whoa, Kelly. Let’s not think about Anthony’s big body because that was just asking for trouble and I already had trouble in heaps.
My phone rang from inside my bag and I was never more glad for the distraction. I sat my bag on the perfectly polished dark wood floor and rummaged through it, breathing like a goddamn elephant. I gave up and finally slid down the floor onto my behind and leaned against the front door, taking deep breaths. Being pregnant was no joke. I’d never been so tired, so out of breath, so clumsy in my entire life.
I finally found the phone and smiled at the screen before answering.
“Hello.”
“Jesus, why the hell do you sound like that? Ohhh, are you finally getting some? You shouldn’t have answered. You totally could have called me back.” She snickered.
“Ha-ha. You’re hilarious, Miranda. No. I’m just over here huffing and puffing because this is what I do now. You don’t know my life.”
She laughed. “Oh, I know your life. I know it times five. So, suck it up, buttercup.”
That’s why I loved Miranda. Everyone else was babying my ass, telling me everything was going to be okay and that I just had to pray, but not Miranda. Praying wasn’t going to do shit. Actions. That was going to make a difference in my baby’s life. Miranda was right. I needed to suck it the hell up. She was also crazy as hell. Who the hell had five kids? Miranda, that’s who.
“I’m sucking all right,” I breathed out and rocked my head back against the door and closed my eyes. What the hell was I doing here? Maybe I should have just gone with the doctor Medicaid told me to. Maybe this was all a big mistake. Maybe I was already completely fucking up this mother thing.
“You okay?” Her voice was soft over the line.
My head shot up, and I took in the overly nice room I was sitting on the floor of.
“Nope, don’t do that. That’s not what we do. You give me shit. I come back with a sarcastically brilliant remark, and we laugh and laugh and laugh.” I didn’t say it, but I didn’t need to. I needed the normal, and she knew it.
“Okay, fine. Sit around feeling sorry for yourself and don’t tell me a damn thing about it. I couldn’t care less, you know. I’ve got twenty million kids and a ridiculous husband to tell me their problems, anyway. I’m all booked up. You’re actually doing me a favor.”
We laughed and laughed and laughed until we didn’t and the line got quiet.
“So, did you do it? Did you go see him?”
She said him in a whisper that made Anthony seem like the villain in a movie. And again I thought of him in that ridiculous bow tie. It made me giggle.
I knew who she was talking about, but I couldn’t help but tease her. “Him?”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Kells. He who must not be named.”
“Yep, I talked to him. As a matter of fact, I’m standing in his apartment right now.”
She sucked in enough air I could hear it over the line. “What? Why are you there? Did he kidnap you? Is he holding you hostage in his basement? How did you answer the phone if your hands are tied? I’m on my way.”
“You’re insane. You know that?” I laughed, but I was thankful for her crazy antics at the moment. I couldn’t even take a step out of the foyer I was so overwhelmed with the mess my life was. No money. No home. And now I was mooching off the person who could save my baby’s life.
“Yeah, that’s what they tell me. But, you know, they don’t know my life.”
I laughed again at how she turned my own joke around on me.
“But, for real, why are you there?”
Hell, I didn’t know why I was there either. He’d handed me those keys, and I didn’t feel like I had much of an option. I needed him right now.
“He didn’t want me to stay at the hotel I was at. He handed me his keys and rattled off an address, and here I am.”
“Huh…that actually sounds admirable.”
I smiled into the phone. Miranda, Anthony, and Ainsley had all grown up together, and honestly Miranda couldn’t stand the guy when they were kids. Even he himself had admitted to me he’d been an asshole.
“Yep, says he’s gonna help me.”
“I’m glad, Kells. So glad.” I could hear the relief in her voice, and I knew she’d been worried about me.
“So what’s the devil’s lair look like, anyway?”
I groaned. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve literally been hanging out in the foyer for over twenty minutes.”
“Why? He gave you the keys, Kells. Have a look around. He’s not home. Have a peek in his pantry and fridge. Ease on over to his bedroom and look in his bathroom cabinets. Have a look in his underwear drawer. It’s your big chance to totally invade his privacy.” She muttered, “It’s like I don’t even know you.”
I laughed, but part of me really wanted to do that. I wanted to know what he was like now. What kind of shower gel he used and if he wore boxers or briefs. God, I hoped it was boxer briefs. The other part of me was terrified I’d like what I’d learn by snooping a little too much and I wasn’t here to be all swoony over Anthony Jackson. It would never work anyway. He was some high profile heart doctor and I was a knocked up, washed up musician who needed to find a job. He probably thought I was a hot mess and he’d be right.
“It’s not nice to spy on people, Miranda.”
“Again, who are you? Come on, at least take a peek in his closet. I want to know how many dead bodies he’s hiding in there.”
I picked myself up off the floor with an eye roll, but I knew what she was doing. She was getting me up off my ass and into the apartment. I needed to get over my shit, and if I had to snoop around for Miranda to do it, I would.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the kitchen that was all gleaming white cabinets and gray granite countertops. It didn’t look like it had ever been used, so I opened the refrigerator and was surprised to find a good bit of food inside.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Miranda, but the kitchen is sparkling. No murders have taken place in this room.”
“Is there food?”
“Yep, already checked the fridge.”
“Sweet, I knew I could count on you.”
I chuckled at our game a little before going back out into the living room and past the dining room that was attached. There was a little hallway right off those rooms that had a guest bathroom that seemed virtually untouched.
The farther I made my way down that little hall, the more I smelled it. And it smelled good. Really good. My pulse kicked up a notch as I entered the bedroom that reeked of testosterone and musk and pure, unadulterated man. It did all kinds of dirty things to my already hormonally addled brain. Still I pressed on into the light brown room, past the large king-sized bed and heavy dark wood dresser to the closed door in the corner. I pressed my hand over my nose and mouth, trying not to smell the goodness that was Anthony Jackson.
I pushed that door open and if I thought for one second it smelled good before I was wrong. A woodsy scent poured out of that closet and into that bedroom in two seconds flat and I found myself taking in the small space for all of a millisecond before turning and running right back toward the living room.
“Abort, abort!” I shouted to Miranda on the phone that was clutched in my hand like a lifeline.
“Oh my God, how many dead bodies?” she shouted back.
“None. Not a damn one.” I sounded disappointed, and I was because no man should smell that freaking good, especially not the one I needed in a medical capacity.
I threw my bag on the floor and myself onto the living room couch and fanned my face, because I was on fire. God, I was hot.
“Well, what happened? Don’t keep a sister waiting. It was handcuffs and whips, wasn’t it? Did he have a red room of pain? I knew that fucker was into some kinky shit.”
“Jesus, you have got to stop reading so many romances.”
“Holden doesn’t mind.”
I smirked. “I bet not.”
“Well?”
I rolled over on the couch and buried my face in the back pillow, pressing the phone into my ear and I mumbled, “Thedeversroonmellsikeheaven.”
“What the hell did you just say?”
I pulled my face out of the couch pillow and groaned into the room. I was in physical pain. No pregnant woman should ever, ever have to smell a smell like that in their lives unless there was a willing man within five feet.
“The devil’s room smells like heaven. How is that possible?”
Miranda’s maniacal laugh over the phone snapped me out of whatever chemically-induced fog Anthony’s cologne had put me under.
“Oh, goodness, those pregnancy hormones got you all messed up,” she said through giggles, and I could picture her wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her brown eyes.
“Go to hell.”
She laughed some more before offering. “What’s the address? I’m going to send you some presents to get you through the hard times.”
Oh, no no no, I didn’t need those kind of presents coming to Anthony’s house. Could you imagine my embarrassment? Besides I wasn’t even sure how long I was staying here. As far as I knew, only a night. Although, he did say something about finding me suitable accommodations. Ya know, in that hoity toity way that pissed me off.
I settled back onto the couch and brought my feet up, feeling completely exhausted. I sighed into the phone.
“I don’t know where I’ll be staying. I think this is just temporary, but honestly I’m feeling so thankful for a safe place to stay for the night. I’m exhausted.”
“I’m glad Anthony put you up for the night. Even if he is a grade A douche.” The line was quiet. “Do you need anything? Do you need me or Ainsley? We can come there. You’re only a few hours away.”
God, my friends. They were amazing. I hadn’t thought about how lucky I was in a long time. Not since the heart diagnosis. It had me feeling like the unluckiest person in the world. But I was wrong. I had people who loved me and cared about me. Even a man who barely knew me, who put me up in his house for the night. Yeah, I was damn lucky.
A doorbell rang that sent my body shooting straight up. I cringed a little at the pinch in my back.
“What was that?” I guess Miranda had heard it, too.
“I have no idea. I think it’s a doorbell. Let me go, so I can check out who’s here.”
I got up off the couch and headed toward the front door.
“Don’t open it. It could be a murderer, a human trafficking ring—”
“Lay off the romantic suspense, too, lady,” I cut her off. “Call me later, love you.”
I hung up and looked through the peephole in the door, curious if I should even answer. The teenage boy standing on the other side of the door looked safe enough, so I opened the door.
“Can I help you?” I hoped he didn’t say yes. There was nothing I could do to help him. I couldn’t even help myself at this point.
“Kelly Potter?” he asked, holding out a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like the most delicious food ever.
“Yes?” I eyed the bag, thinking I was going to have to steal it because I definitely didn’t order it. I would have remembered. I was crazy, but I wasn’t that crazy. Yet.
He handed the food over, and I took it because I wasn’t stupid, but I was also honest, so I said, “But I haven’t ordered any food.”
He shrugged. “I’m just the delivery guy and if your name is Kelly Potter then that food is yours.” He turned and headed back toward the elevator and said over his shoulder, “It’s already paid for.”
I closed the door and took the food to the kitchen, opening the containers to find grilled chicken and rice and Greek salad with a side of hummus and bread. Oh my God. I’d died and gone to heaven. Right on cue my stomach growled and I searched Anthony’s cabinets for a plate before I ate this food right out of the cartons like a savage.
I wasn’t a fool. He’d sent me food, but he wasn’t here for me to refuse, so I was going to enjoy it. I was going to close the door to that bedroom that smelled like the manliest man ever and grab some blankets, cuddle up on the couch, eat, rest, watch TV, and relax for the first time in months. I needed it. Just a little time to recuperate. Just a little time to get my footing again. Just a few worry-free hours.