4
I spendthat night as I’ve spent countless others, lying on my back in bed staring at the ceiling until the sun comes up.
The tranquility of the morning is shattered by an orgasmic wail from Gigi, but this time her lusty screams don’t disturb me. It could be meeting her that has taken the edge off my irritation at the noise, but it could also be gratitude.
If it weren’t for her and Gaspard getting it on so loudly, I wouldn’t have enjoyed the first orgasm I’ve had in years.
Today I don’t find the sound of their lovemaking arousing, either. It’s simply another morning sound, like a garbage truck rumbling down an alleyway or a rooster crowing at the dawn. It’s background noise, meaningless and pleasant.
I’m too preoccupied with thoughts of James to be moved by anything else.
The memory of the way he licks his lips is torture. How can a mannerism so small be so seductive? I could write a thesis on the shape of his mouth alone.
I wait until I hear my neighbors’ shared climax before I rise from bed. Then I spend a few hours unpacking my bags, doing laundry, and getting organized. It’s just after ten o’clock when the knock comes on the front door.
I open it to find a young man holding a vase of snowy white tulips.
“Olivia Rossi?”
“That’s me.”
He hands me the bouquet, then leaves without asking for a signature. Apparently he thinks I have a trustworthy face.
I bring the flowers into the kitchen, where I set them on the counter and remove the card.
“When you’re ready,” it reads, followed by a phone number.
He didn’t sign his name.
He didn’t have to.
With my heart in my throat, I dial James’s number. He picks up on the first ring.
“You got the flowers.”
His voice is low and pleased. He’s happy I called so quickly. But how did he know it was me?
“Flowers? No, I’ve just been sitting here for the past twelve hours randomly dialing phone numbers. I can’t believe I finally tried the right combination.”
“Imagine the odds,” he says, playing along. “Your dialing finger must be cramping.”
“You have no idea. It’s crooked as a fish hook. I might have to visit the emergency room. By the way, who is this?”
His chuckle sends a shiver of pleasure straight through me. “When am I going to see you, funny lady?”
“I could text you a selfie. Would that do?”
“I thought you’d rather be shot than take a selfie.”
“No, you weren’t paying attention. I said I’d rather be shot than post a selfie on the internet.”
His voice drops. “I paid attention to everything.”
In the short silence that follows, I hear my blood rushing through my veins. “So I take it Edmond gave you my message.”
He makes a soft sound that I interpret as amusement at my awkward segue. “He did. He also gave me your apartment number.”
Hence the flower delivery. “I have a feeling he would’ve also given you a key if you’d asked for it. The man thinks you walk on water.”
“I’ll be sure to ask him for one.”
When I pause, swallowing, James says, “That was a joke. I promise.”
“Hmm. Like you promised you weren’t a biter?”
Another drop in his tone, and now he’s all husky sex line operator. “I’m not a biter. I’m a nibbler. There’s a big difference.”
I break out in a cold sweat. Steady, Olivia. Take a deep breath.
After it becomes obvious I’m not going to respond, James prompts, “Are you not saying anything because I’m bothering you, or because I’m botheringyou?”
I exhale in a noisy rush. “Honestly? I don’t know if a woman has ever been more bothered by a man in the whole of human history.”
He unleashes that devastating chuckle again, the bastard. “I’ll take that as a compliment. When am I going to see you?”
I note he doesn’t ask, “When can you sit for your portrait?” because we both know when I told Edmond I’d sit for a portrait, that wasn’t what I was agreeing to at all.
I say quietly, “I haven’t done this in a long time.”
“Talked on the phone?”
“Taken a lover.”