I could of course go against Walt’s demands. I could stay put in this shabby hotel room with its crappy lighting and stiff bed and cramped bathroom. I could also save money and move into Walt’s apartment just for a few days, just until we’re able to resume our negotiations. Hmm…what to do, what to do.
Obviously, I have my bags packed within the hour and I’m sitting in the back seat of a cab, heading toward the address Mason emailed me shortly after I got off the phone with Walt.
Once I’m deposited on the sidewalk outside the trendy Tribeca building, a doorman rushes out to greet me. He’s a young guy with pep in his step and a huge easygoing smile.
“Mrs. Jennings, welcome, welcome. Let me retrieve your bags.”
I don’t pay attention to anything he says after “Mrs. Jennings”.
Did Mason tell this man I’m Walt’s wife?! Was he supposed to?! I mean, yes, technically, it’s true on paper, but I’m taken aback by someone actually referring to me in that manner.
The doorman winks as he takes my two suitcases. Maybe he can tell I’m in shock.
“Everyone in the building has already heard the good news. Word travels fast around here.”
I nod with a weak smile, trying to come up with a response that doesn’t equate to me putting my foot in my mouth.
The doorman mistakes my awkwardness for shyness, shaking his head apologetically. “My bad. I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Terrell. I’m on duty most days. You’ll probably meet Josh too. He takes the night shift.”
“Nice to meet you, Terrell.”
I extend my hand only to realize he’s carrying both of my suitcases. We laugh at the blunder and then he bends his arm, suggesting we do a silly elbow bump. I immediately like him, and I’m glad I’ll at least have a smiling face to greet me at the door while I stay here, however long that may be.
He walks me through the lobby and I stare up at the ceilings, trying to guess their height. Twenty feet? Thirty?
“Three stories high,” Terrell confirms for me as we arrive at the elevators.
I immediately close my mouth, aware that he’s been staring at my slack-jawed reaction as we walk through the lobby.
“It’s beautiful.”
He nods. “Yeah. I’ve worked in a few high-end residences, and this one definitely takes the cake.” Then he leans in. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but Harry Styles owns the unit on the floor underneath yours.”
Now my jaw is really on the floor.
“Sorry to say though, I’ve only ever seen him here once.”
Pfft. Like that’s going to stop me from using a spoon to create one of those Shawshank Redemption holes in the floor of Walt’s apartment so I can peek through.
The elevator doors sweep open and we step inside. Three out of the four walls are made of glass, and as we ascend floors and go up and up, the lobby gets smaller and smaller beneath us.
“You’ll be in the penthouse up on the 35th floor.”
A mild jolt of excitement spikes my blood. I can’t wait to see the views from inside the apartment.
When we arrive on Walt’s floor, Terrell waves for me to proceed before him, straight out of the elevator into the formal entry gallery of the apartment. There’s a woman standing there, waiting for us, wearing a silk blouse tucked into trendy wide-legged trousers. Her cropped blonde hair and pale pink lipstick accentuate her pretty features.
My stomach drops as I realize what I’ve just walked in on.
Oh god. I hadn’t even considered this scenario.
Six
“I’m so sorry!” I mutter quickly, turning back for the elevator and running straight into Terrell. He releases an audible oof as he tries to stay standing and, fortunately, succeeds in keeping us both from sprawling out onto the black and white checkerboard marble floor. I’m eternally grateful to him considering I’d hate to embarrass myself even more in front of this woman.
“Oh, Mrs. Jennings, I’m sorry to have surprised you!” the woman says, rushing forward to help steady me.
I frown as I step back to get my bearings again, confused as to why Walt’s girlfriend, or mistress, or whoever she is, is apologizing to me.
“I’m Rebecca, the concierge here at Penthouse 35,” she says with an award-winning smile.
“I should have warned you she’d be up here,” Terrell says with a light laugh.
“Concierge?” I ask, glancing between them.
Rebecca steps forward. “Yes. I work here in the building to help serve all the top-tier residents. You and Mr. Jennings are among them. Normally, I won’t be waiting for you here when you arrive home, but Mr. Jennings requested that I give you a tour and help you get settled.” She glances past me and nods at Terrell. “Would you please take Mrs. Jennings’ bags to the main suite at the end of that hall while I give her a brief tour?”