“Who are you and what have you done to my enigmatic, aloof Sinclair?” I asked.
He chuckled darkly and leaned close to my ear to whisper, “Trust me, your Sinclair is still in here, waiting to have his wicked way with you.”
I gulped as his words ignited that ever-ready powder keg of desire in the base of my belly.
“Shall we go in, then?” Meagan was saying as she buzzed through the glass doors and into the lobby.
I followed mutely after her, listening vaguely as she explained the buildings amenities and the appeal of living in Brooklyn’s trendy DUMBO neighborhood. Sinclair’s thumb swooped rhythmically over mine as he conversed with her in the gorgeous glass elevator that took us impossibly high in the converted boxing warehouse. A sense of impending wonder and anxiety churned in my gut as the doors slid soundlessly open to reveal a massive open concept kitchen and living area.
My mouth hung open like a flytrap as I stepped into the space, pulled instinctively towards the massive glass faced clock at the center of the far wall. Through the wrought iron face, I could see the entire western layout of Brooklyn. I swiveled around to gape at Sinclair who stood with his hands deep in his pockets, watching me with his usual neutral expression. I caught sight of another identical clock face in the wall perpendicular to me and rushed towards it. This one offered an unparalleled view of the Manhattan Bridge and the sparkling lights of the big city.
I turned again to Sinclair, unable to speak.
He stepped into the recessed living room but kept a wide swathe of space between us. Meagan, good real estate agent that she was, made herself scarce.
“Sinclair, what are we doing here?”
He pulled a hand through his hair, cleared his throat and shrugged one shoulder. “It is obvious, no?”
“No,” I said. “Not so much.”
“If you don’t like it we can find something in Manhattan. I would offer to leave the city entirely but my business is based here and it would take some time to move the base of operations. I thought Brooklyn was a good compromise, a place close to our family and our old lives but a new neighborhood; one we could explore and learn to love together. We wouldn’t run the risk of constantly running into people we knew.”
He stepped forward slowly, as if he was approaching a cornered animal. When I bristled at his touch, I realized I was giving him reason to act like that. Struggling to relax, I gave him my hand so that he could lead me towards the staircase.
“It’s rather large; three floors and three bedrooms,” he explained as we ascended the stairs to the second level. “I know it might be hard to imagine our lives here so I took the liberty of labeling a few things.”
I moved forward silently to read the large label on the master bedroom door, Our Room. Swallowing a sob, I explored further, finding each closet labeled his and hers, a drawer marked Giselle’s sexy underwear and another fishing attire in Sinclair’s neat, sloping script. A sticky note on the main wall was a placeholder for a yet untitled work of art by Giselle Moore. I want to sleep beneath your art - read the caption.
Crying now, I left the bedroom to explore the rest of the floor. The guest bedroom was equipped with a list of approved guests - Cage, Seb, Cosima, Brenna, Santiago and Katarina but under no circumstances Stefan Kilos. There were random red sticky notes on floor length glass windows, in closets, on the glass elevator doors and the banister that merely promised sex here. I laughed wetly through my tears, aware that Sinclair was following behind me at a respectful distance. He would be nervous but of course, he put my feelings first.
God, I loved him.
And that was before I stepped in front of the other bedroom’s closed door and frowned at the lack of a label.
“I wanted to explain this one before we went inside,” Sin said from behind me; close enough to touch but deliberately avoiding it.
“I want you to understand that this isn’t me trying to rush you into anything. Honest to fucking God, I didn’t even know if we would survive the night. This is me showing you what I’ve had a hard time telling you, what I’ve never had to tell anyone before. I love you, Elle. I love you like there is a second heart inside my chest that beats just for you.”
One of his cool hands found my hip while the other pushed open the door before us. I held my breath as we took three steps in tandem into the room.
A purple sticky note on the wall opposite us read - baby’s room?
I felt my body light up like a flare, leaving only my heart bloody and beating loudly on a pile of ash on the floor. All thought, all reservations, fell away as if they had never subsisted and all I felt was shock and awe.