Head Over Feels

She sits on the bed and then lies back with her arms spread and her eyes closed. “This bed is what heaven must feel like.”

“My mom likes it too.” At that, she smiles softly. “If you could do anything, what would it be?”

She takes a deep breath and then exhales slowly. Turning her head toward me, she props herself up on her elbow. Excitement flickers in her eyes, a wild confession that has me fixed on her every word. “I would start a program to help kids in need. I’d raise money to help them however I could from getting them off the streets to getting them nutritious meals to after-school programs and tech training.”

Impressive. And so Tealey. “Do you want to continue working on the front line, or would you ever want to be behind the scenes?”

“Depends on where I’d be most effective.”

“Why did I not know this? Do the others?”

Shaking her head, she says, “No one ever asked.”

So humble. “You have a big heart, Tealey.”

“And a small bank account. I should have asked you way before falling in love with this bed, but how much is half the rent?”

I give her a look. “You aren’t paying me anything. Save your money for the new place.”

Bolting upright, she’s apparently gotten a second wind. “No way. I insist.”

I suspect her current rent would be about a quarter of what one of my tenants would pay. But I’m not going to throw that in her face.

“My studio in Brooklyn is sixteen hundred a month, so I can pay you the same while I’m here.”

Almost two thousand a month for the dump where she lives? That building should have been condemned thirty years ago.

“You’ll need money for the new place, so why don’t we cut a deal and say two fifty? You’re only getting a room. That way, you can save and get ahead.”

Her eyes stay locked on mine as if she’ll find another answer. “Really? You’d be okay with that?”

“I’d be fine with you staying for free. The room doesn’t go away when you’re not here, so I’m used to covering my expenses.”

Standing, she comes to me as if we’re those kinds of friends, the kind that touch and hug and—oh fuck. Maybe we are those types of friends. “You’re an amazing man, Rad.” She pats me on the chest. “You know that?”

“I’ll take amazing.” I angle toward the door to lead her out but stop. “By the way, I’m glad you dumped that fucker.” That elicits a chuckle from her.

Her smile slides away as she looks up at me. She sighs. “I wish I could find a guy like you. You’re too good to me.”

“A guy like me?” Tealey wants a guy like me?

“You drive me around in your fancy car, and you feed me, give me shelter . . .” Her hand flattens on my chest, just over my heart. I cover it with mine, trying hard not to have her hear my nerves through a hard swallow. The light from the living room shines in her eyes, and another smile appears. “Thank you for everything you’re doing, but also for sharing your story about the divorce with me.”

Fuck it. I swallow the lump in my throat down, not even apologizing for how loud it is. “I’m glad I did as well.”

I don’t think she realizes that she’s patting to the beat of my heart. “Being here already feels like home, but speaking of, I should go.”

“I’ll call a car to take you home.”

“Thanks.” She’s gone from the room too fast for my liking, leaving me alone. “Fuck me,” I mutter under my breath. The woman has me spinning like my liquor.

I catch her picking up her bag. “You’ve made my week, Rad. Hell, my month. Thank you for letting me move in.” She comes closer and nudges me with her elbow. “Roomie.”

“Roomie . . .” I’m not sure this is how I imagined our relationship going. Utterly confused now, I scratch the top of my head. What the actual fuck am I doing? The woman who I’ve pined over for more than seven years, and that I’ll deny if put on the stand, is going to be sharing the same roof as me—breakfast, dinner, late nights.

I’m so fucked.

5

Rad

“I’m walking in now.”

“Walking in where?” Jackson asks on the other end of the call.

“To the restaurant.”

The phone goes silent, long enough for me to make sure I haven’t lost the connection. When I put it to my ear again, he asks, “Are we talking in code because I’m confused?”

I swing the door open and step inside. “Dinner. Tonight. Marlow. Her dad. Your sorry ass. Ring a bell?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rad. You’re having dinner with Bob? I didn’t know he was in town.”

“What do you mean? We’re supposed to be here, pretty much now.”