“No, shit, of course not. That’s so low. You’re more than I can handle, Regina,” he assures me sheepishly.
“I’m enough?” I ask, eyes widening happily. It feels good to be enough.
“More than enough.”
I frown thoughtfully. “More than enough? Trent, don’t say that! I want to be just right, not more, not less,” I complain, but I drift off, exhausted.
I have nightmares about Paul, dumping me, but Paul somehow morphs into Tahoe. I wake up the next morning too early for a Saturday, guilty about dreaming of Tahoe as I notice Trent soundly sleeping in bed beside me.
HUNTING
Aside from burying myself in work during the rest of February, I also start looking for apartments. Trent suggests that I look at vacancies in his building but although his place is okay in terms of transportation to work, I don’t want to limit myself to only one neighborhood.
So I spend all my time either working or looking for apartments, all while also trying not to worry overly much about my living situation. Every night I remind myself that I’ve got this and that taking this step will be worth it.
I’m scouring the classifieds late one night, disappointed that Trent spared only a minimal look at the options I showed him before he headed to my bedroom and to bed.
I feel restless and crave company.
I even call my parents but I get voicemail so I leave them a message.
“Hey, Mom and Dad. I guess I just wanted to touch base, see how you were. Things are well over here. I’m working overtime and looking for a new place. And, well, I’m seeing a guy. I also went to see a new apartment yesterday and although I haven’t found the ideal one, I hope to soon. I miss you. I…I love you. ’Bye.”
I hang up and stare at my phone, almost willing them to instantly call me back.
* * *
By midnight, I’ve found one promising prospect and I find myself taking a picture of the ad and texting it to Tahoe with this message:
Versailles is unavailable. But how about one-bedroom cozy chic?
The pic shows that some renovations are in order but the plus is, I can afford it.
He texts me back two words.
Him: Rotund no.
Me: Hey that’s my line!
Him: That’s right. I claimed it ;)
Me: Naughty boy
Him: Naughty possessive little girl.
My phone falls silent for a good twenty minutes.
I’m busy scanning more options in the dark. My eyes are starting to ache from the meager reading light when the phone buzzes. Sitting upright, I turn my phone around and see his name again. I swear to god I feel my heart practically leap out of my chest and the biggest smile spreads across my face.
I press the little green button and, next thing I know, Tahoe’s chocolaty, deep voice is rumbling in my ear, “Hey, I’m downstairs. Ring me up?”
I freeze.
Aware of Trent sleeping in my bedroom, I hurry to ring him up.
I open the door just in time to watch him step out of the elevator. He’s wearing a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and dark-wash jeans, a half-grin on his face. The one that makes that lone dimple say hello in that endearing way.
I cross my arms and frown a bit mockingly. “Couldn’t bribe my new doorman?”
His wink seems very confident. “I’ll wear him down.”
We both stare at each other for a long, quiet minute, almost as if we’d never seen each other before. As if we weren’t at the Pier only recently, drinking beer and talking about Paul and his…Lisa.
“What are you doing here at this hour? It’s the middle of the night and Trent is asleep in my bed.” I’m near whispering as I try to keep my voice down.
He scrapes a hand over his head, all five fingers running over the top of his wind-mussed hair all the way to the back of his neck. Then he lets his hand drop and sighs, leaning into the doorframe with a cocky gleam in his eye. “Just wanted to see you, that’s all.”
“What…why?”
He shrugs devilishly. “Make sure you don’t move out of the country, I guess. Purely selfish reasons,” he smirks.
Then scans my features with his eyes again.
“You okay?” I ask suspiciously.
He’s looking at me as if he can’t get enough. His eyes as blue as they looked when I showed him my J. Lo pictures.
“Yeah.”
“Come in, don’t make noise.” He comes in, and I close the door and usher him to the pitch-black living room. “Are you drunk? What? You couldn’t find a floozie available to go out tonight?”
“You could say I was more interested in your apartments tonight.” He walks into my kitchen, also unlit. “Anything to eat?” He opens the fridge, and for a moment he is all I see. A big, hulking figure illuminated by the interior fridge lights.
“I’ve got a salad I picked up and didn’t eat. You can have it,” I say.
He pulls it out of the fridge while I get a fork from a drawer and hand it over to him.
I don’t want to turn on the lights and wake up Trent, but we somehow manage to make our way to the round table in the small dining area.
I don’t really understand Tahoe’s reason for visiting tonight but sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t simply want someone to talk to that he doesn’t have to seduce or be fun with all the time. Maybe he enjoys my company like I do his. Maybe I calm him like he sometimes calms me. Except for the few moments when his looks quicken my pulse—like a little bit right now—he’s the one person I seem to always crave being with lately. At any hour, even in the mornings, when I’m a bit grumpy.
I sense my mood would improve in the mornings simply knowing this blond beast was around.