Portia Moore - He Lived Next Door

by Unknown

  “I love her anyway,” I tell her, and she gives me the slightest grin. After she lets me in, I head to Chassidy’s room and knock on the door.

  “Yeah?” Her voice sounds strained and cracked.

  “It’s me, babe.”

  “No, you weren’t supposed to come. I look like death,” she whines.

  “Then death is the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” I say through the door.

  “I’m far from beautiful right now. I’m disgusting.”

  “I’m coming in. Get prepared.” I open the door cautiously.

  She’s hiding under a blanket. “I’m hideous, and I smell worse than I look,” she says between sniffs.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “It’s not funny,” she squeals. I gently try to pull the covers off her, but she holds on.

  “Can I see you?” I ask quietly.

  “No.”

  “Please?” She never tells me no when I say please. It’s like her kryptonite.

  I see her grip on the blanket loosen. I slowly pull it off her, and she’s curled up in a ball. Her hair’s in a ponytail, but barely. It’s wild with loose strands everywhere. Her eyes are pink, her lips are dry, and her nose is Rudolph red.

  “You look terrible.”

  She quickly pulls the blanket back over her head. “You’re a jerk.”

  “You’re still one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”

  “Liar,” she yells.

  “Can you come out from under there?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

  “No.”

  “But I can’t give you your gift while you’re under there.”

  “I don’t want it. I’m a human bag of bacteria. Go give it to a healthy pretty girl.”

  “Well, I got it specifically for you, so I think that’d be a little rude.”

  She sighs, slowly peeking out from under the covers. Her stubborn pout lessens a little. “I’m sorry I ruined our date.”

  I pull her to me and hug her. “You didn’t ruin it.”

  “I wanted to go on a yacht. I’ve never been on one, and it would have been so romantic,” she says, resting her head on my shoulder.

  Then she jumps up and bolts from the room. I can hear her throwing up. I head to the bathroom but stand in the hallway outside.

  “Once she gets it all out, she’ll be fine,” Evelyn tells me as she puts on her coat.

  “You heading out?” I ask.

  “Showing a property. There’s ginger ale in the fridge and soup in the cabinet, but I don’t think she’ll be eating for a few hours,” she says before heading out the door.

  Chassidy and I spend the rest of the night alone. She keeps throwing up, so I hold her hair, rub her back, and bring her ginger ale.

  I wake up to her kissing my neck. She smells like strawberries. She must have showered and brushed her teeth.

  “Thank you,” she says with a smile I’ve never seen before, and I know because I could describe each one she’s ever given me.

  I kiss her, and it’s slow and lazy and the best we’ve ever had. “Close your eyes.”

  She looks at me, obviously wondering what I’m up to. But she closes her eyes, and I pull her left hand to my chest.

  “Keep them closed, okay?” I tell her, and she keeps smiling. I pull out the ring. “Okay, open.”

  Her eyes widen when she sees the ring, and she gasps.

  “Today was one of the best days of my life,” I tell her, and she begins to cry.

  “I know you’re not about to ask me what I think you are,” she says, her eyes glistening.

  “I’m not,” I tease, and she smiles knowingly. “I want to tell you about how my life’s changed since I met you. How I can’t imagine my life without you. I want to tell you that you’re who I have fun with, who makes me feel better when I’m low, and who I want to give the world to. I want to tell you about how when I see myself old and grey on a rocking bench, I see you next to me.”

  “What did I do to deserve you?” she asks through tears.

  “You exist.”

  Chassidy

  “It probably wasn’t a good idea to have that third glass of wine,” I say, hearing the slur in my voice.

  He’s looking at me with that gorgeous smile of his. “I think it was a fantastic idea.”

  “No, I don’t think it was.” I take a deep breath and drink more water to flush out the alcohol.

  “You’re much more fun when you drink,” he says suggestively. He’s been pretty suggestive all night, I think.

  “I think you’re more fun when I drink,” I tell him, and he laughs.

  “So…” He leans in across the table. “Why are you here with just me?”

  I’m confused by the question.

  “Where’s your husband?” he asks.

  As if I’m a child, I pout at him and roll my eyes. “I have no idea.”

  I laugh because I have a feeling I might cry if I don’t laugh, and that would be the second rule I’ve broken tonight—the first was not to get drunk and I’m dangerously close to that.

  “He must be a stupid man,” he says, and his voice sounds good, not as good as he looks but close.

  “He’s not stupid, just sad… I think,” I tell him, surprising myself. Is Bryce just sad? Is that why he’s being a big jerk?

  “How could he be sad with a woman like you in his life? I’d worship every part of your body as if I'd created it.”

  I remind myself to breathe.

  His eyes take me in as if I’m a book, and goose bumps break out all over my body. He licks his lips, and I wonder if I’m on a reality show like Punk’d. This has to be a joke, but he looks dead serious. I down another drink of my water.

  I slowly let out a breath. “You know how you said you shouldn’t say certain things earlier? What you just said falls under that category.”

  “Why?” he asks innocently, his eyes gleaming at me.

  “Because you just shouldn’t,” I say, my thoughts not entirely coherent.

  He grins. “Give me a reason why.”

  “Because I’m married.”

  “Not happily right now.” His eyes narrow on mine.

  I frown. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. I can tell.”

  “Have you ever been married?” I ask, picking up my glass of water again.

  He grins. “Never. Monogamy doesn’t appeal to me.”

  “Well, maybe it doesn’t matter if you’re happy in marriage. Happiness is relative.”

  “I would make you happy.” Innuendo bubbles beneath his tone.

  “Right, Mr. No Monogamy, for, what, one night?” I ask sarcastically.

  “One night might be all you need, all you could handle.”

  The speckles of lust in his eyes are almost overwhelming. I look away, laughing off the way my heart is racing and how warm my body is.

  “Because I’m your client then,” I say pointedly.

  He gives a half shrug. “I could tear up the contract.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Why? Because I told you exactly what I’m thinking?” His mouth twists into an almost dangerous smirk.

  “Okay tell me this, how many of your clients do you try to pick up?” I ask, getting annoyed. He’s handsome, yes, and sexy, no question, but this is ridiculous and unprofessional even in my slightly intoxicated state, even with him looking like the sexy stranger most women envision when reading my books.

  “None of my clients are like you.”

  I roll my eyes, mustering up as much indignation as I can. “I’m flattered, really, but again, I’m married, and whether I’m happy or not is none of your business. Your business is selling my books. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

  As I walk away, I feel his eyes on my body as if they’re hands. Gosh, what a conceited jerk. A really attractive conceited jerk.

  As I wash my hands in the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t look any different. The dress
is form-fitting, but I don’t have a lot of cleavage showing. There’s no reason for this man to be coming on to me as he is, especially since I’m his client. It just seems so stupid. I start to feel anger coursing through me too. If Bryce were here, I wouldn’t have to deal with this. I wouldn’t have had to defend my happiness. I wouldn’t have to feel guilty for being so attracted to him.

  I walk back out and sit down at the table. He’s wearing the same obnoxious grin that doesn’t look as obnoxious as it should because he’s so handsome.

  “I think one day I’m going to read about this in one of your books,” he says smugly.

  “So is that what this is, you trying to inspire me?”

  “I can inspire you much better in other ways.”

  I roll my eyes even though my pulse picks up.

  “Tell me you’re not curious,” he says almost as a dare.

  My eyes graze over him. There’s no denying that he’s beautiful, that masculinity pours off of him, and even his brashness makes him interesting instead of overbearing, but this is uncomfortable… I would be uncomfortable if I hadn’t had so much wine and if Bryce and I were in a better place.

  “Look, I’m really curious…”

  His eyes light up. Did I just say that out loud?

  “No, I meant flattered. I meant to say flattered, not curious,” I say, mentally kicking myself. “If I was single—”

  He lifts a finger to his lips, and I’m drawn in by how soft they look. “Say no more. I’ll never bring it up again.” His tone is casual, bordering on dismissive.

  I can’t help but scoff at his resolve. “Good.”

  The waitress appears, and I order banana cream pie. He orders chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, and we both have coffee. There’s a tension between us. It seems odd to call it awkward, but the dynamic has changed. We casually discuss the changes in the industry with romance and ebooks in general, and we talk about the possibility of me writing the thriller I’ve had swimming in my mind. He’s back to the man I spoke with on the phone—professional, knowledgeable, impressive—and it makes me even more curious about his behavior just a half hour before. I can’t attribute it to alcohol since he doesn’t drink, so I wonder if he’s bipolar. Was his interest so superficial that after a few minutes of me refusing him, he decided I wasn’t worth the effort?

  Is this the sort of will he’ll exhibit when trying to secure me deals? I find myself completely irritated, and I know it’s irrational, but the feeling sticks to me as the bill comes. He pays with the company card, making small talk about the restaurant and which ones I should try whenever I’m in New York.

  “I’m sorry, but what made you give up so easily?” I ask.

  His eyes focus on mine, lighting up again, and the spark that went out between us earlier seems to ignite as he tilts his head and I silently scold myself.

  “On convincing you to…?”

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, but I want to make sure that your resolve is stronger than what you just showed me.”

  His smile stretches across his beautiful face, and he rubs his strong chin as he leans back in his chair. “You’re interesting.”

  I’m stupid is what I am. I rub my hands on my thighs, then fold them on the table.

  “Trust me, my resolve is completely intact. However, I think you make your decisions quickly, and once they’re made, nothing can convince you otherwise. If you change your mind, it’s something you have to convince yourself to do.”

  I push my hand through my hair. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. Now I’ve given you the impression…”

  “That you’re curious,” he says, leaning on the table, his eyes commanding mine to meet his. “It’s okay to wonder.”

  His hand slides across the table and lands on mine. I go to move mine, but he grips it. Now my heart is beating a million times a minute.

  “It’s okay to touch,” he says, his movement smooth and deliberate and awakening part of me that’s been asleep.

  I look around the room. It’s only us and busy busboys tending to the tables. His hand moves to my wrist, and his finger draws a heart on it. Then he pulls me closer, making me lean forward. His cologne floats to my nose.

  “Chassidy?”

  I turn toward the voice. It’s male and familiar, but it’s not Bryce—it’s Carter. He’s dressed in a white button-up and black tie and slacks, just like the rest of the staff.

  “Hi!” My voice is high and shrieky. I knock down the remaining water in my glass. “You work here?”

  He smiles, one that I’m sure gets him plenty of tips. “One of my million jobs. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Is this Mr. Bell?” He squints at Davien, who doesn’t look a bit as frazzled as I am.

  “Um no, uh, this is Davien Marx, my agent,” I mumble, my face burning in embarrassment. Of course he’d think Davien was my husband. He’s never seen Bryce, and I was practically about to kiss him.

  “Oh yeah, you mentioned that yesterday.” Carter gives Davien a hard glare before taking the hand Davien’s extended.

  “And you are…?” Davien asks coolly, looking between us.

  “Carter’s my neighbor,” I say quickly. I wonder if Davien thinks I’m screwing Carter, that my whole loyal wife façade is a sham. I can’t believe I almost let my agent kiss me.

  They exchange looks as if they’re sizing each other up and neither one seems impressed.

  “We were celebrating,” I say, my voice still not back to its regular not-guilty tone.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just thought it was you and wanted to say hi,” Carter says, turning his back toward Davien and giving me his full attention.

  “Yeah, it looks like you have a lot of work to do,” Davien interjects with a condescending grin.

  I shoot him a sharp look.

  “I’m actually finished up here,” Carter says over his shoulder.

  “I’ll see you back home then,” I tell Carter, giving him an apologetic look for Davien’s rudeness and the complete awkwardness of this entire situation.

  “Hey, are you going back home?” he asks.

  “Of course.” I laugh inappropriately loudly, my nerves bursting from my body.

  “You are?” Davien asks sneakily, and my face reddens again.

  “Well, if you don’t mind waiting a few, you could catch a ride with me,” Carter says, giving me a friendly smile. How did he know I didn’t drive…oh the empty glasses near me probably tipped him off.

  I can’t help but notice Davien glaring daggers into Carter’s back.

  “No, it’s fine. I can take her. It’s no problem,” Davien says tightly.

  “We live in the same building. Right next door actually,” Carter says with a sliver of sternness.

  Davien smiles tightly, his face hardening toward Carter. “Well it’s up to Chassidy. Her choice, right?”

  I feel as if I should excuse myself so they can pull out swords and fight or something.

  “Right, Chassidy, do you want a ride home with me or are you heading out with your agent?” he says almost with contempt.

  They both glare at me. Davien’s eyes are full of what I could only describe as promise. When I look at Carter, I see something I’ve never seen on him, almost sorrow, and for a moment, he reminds me of Bryce. It’s eerie.

  “It doesn’t make sense for you to take me all the way home, Davien, I can hitch a ride with Carter.”

  Davien’s face hardens like stone, and he almost looks like he’s going to punch Carter, who is beaming.

  “Great, give me about ten and we can head out,” Carter says more casually than I expected. He looks as if he just won a contest. “Nice meeting you, Davien.”

  Davien’s face is completely cold. “You too, Carter.”

  When Carter walks away, I’m almost embarrassed to look at Davien. I don’t even want to think about the moment Carter interrupted.

  “I really appreciate you coming here to meet with me,” I say, sounding robotic
.

  “Chassidy…” The way he says my name is full of authority and what I can only describe as desire.

  I look at him hesitantly.

  “No one would ever have to know.”

  I sigh, pretending to be aloof. “Know what?”

  “My sister lives in Chicago,” he says as the waitress returns with the bill. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He gives her a wink, and she practically swoons before telling us good night. “I fly here a few times a month,” he tells me, opening the folder and retrieving his card. “Business can be business, or it could be full of pleasure.”

  “I didn’t meant to…”

  He stands from the table. I would do the same, but my legs feel weak. I look at him with a weak, nervous smile.

  He leans toward me until our faces are only inches apart. “Don’t say anything now. Life is too short to not experience all its pleasures.”

  I shiver at how close his lips are to my cheek. He then stands straight up and adjusts his jacket.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as the proposals go out, and my assistant will keep you up to date every step of the way.” His tone is casual again, as if this was a normal business meeting for him, as if he hasn’t tried to seduce me and left me dizzy and confused.

  “Thank you,” I say just as casually.

  He reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a card, and leans next to me, placing it on the table. “You have my number, the personal one, if you feel the need to use it.” His eyes twinkle at me briefly before he stands. “It was good to meet you in person, Chassidy.”

  “Have a safe flight,” I mutter, but he’s already too far away to hear it.

  Davien left me at the table five minutes ago, but his presence lingers. The wine has worn off, but I still feel intoxicated, confused, and in disbelief. This night happened so differently from what I expected. Was I really going to let him kiss me? Was I flirting with him or encouraging him? Why was I disappointed when he seemingly gave up? My heart is beating so hard I can almost hear it in my ears. What would have happened if I had let him take me home? When did I start to look at men beside my husband in a sexual way? I’m terrified of who I was tonight. I’m not this person. I don’t flirt and push the line and wonder what happens if I toe it. My husband is amazing and just as handsome as Davien. In bed, we’re fine. He knows me and I’m never unsatisfied but…