It Started with a Kiss

“Just a small salad for me. Thanks.” I chuckle while I place the order, upsizing the fries from regular to large, and then pull two glasses from the cabinet to fill with water. But that envelope . . . That envelope doesn’t look good. I set the glasses down on the counter beside it, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I spread the ripped sides apart with my fingers, and read the title in bold red across the top of the document—Eviction Notice.

Shit.

“Is it too late to order some fries for me?” Marlow asks, padding toward the kitchen. “I’m hungrier than I thought.”

I drop the envelope to the counter like it burned my fingers and scramble to grab the glasses and hold them up. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll give you some of mine. Here’s some water.”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind but smiles. “Thanks.” Taking one from me, she sips, but then her gaze strays to the counter. Shit. The glass is slowly lowered, and I see her chest fill with a deep breath that she holds inside.

When she releases it, she says, “I forgot about that.”

“How do you forget about an eviction notice?”

Her hand goes to her hip, and she tilts her head. Accusations fill her eyes along with a spark of anger. “You opened my mail?”

“I was looking for your address to verify the order. And I might’ve also . . .” Fuck. There’s no getting out of this. “Yeah, I looked at your mail. It’s an eviction notice, Marlow.”

“I know.”

“Have you read it because it doesn’t look like you got further than ripping it open.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You can’t be so busy that you didn’t read a fucking eviction notice.” Running my hand through my hair, I can’t keep the strain of frustration from tainting my words.

“What do you want me to say?” Her shoulders bounce in nonchalance as she leans against the counter. “I have a talent for ignoring things that make me sad. And eviction notices are really depressing.”

“They’re also legally binding.” I want to reach for it so badly, but I invest the temptation into squeezing my glass. “When do you have to be out of the apartment?” I ask.

She grabs the envelope and reaches inside to pull out the documents. “Let’s find out.”

I’m desperate to look over her shoulder, to see if I can help her out of this mess, but I have a feeling if she’s had this for a while, her time has run out.

She keeps me in suspense as her eyes trail across the document. When she shoves it back into the envelope, she takes another sip of water. At this point, I think she’s doing it on purpose to get back at me for reading it.

She turns with her glass of water in hand and walks into the living room. “How long until the food gets here?”

I set the glass down and push the palms of my hands against the cold stone of the counter. Trying to calm myself, I have to remember that I may not be familiar with eviction notices, but she has even less experience in this department. “I put a rush on it. Twenty. Thirty minutes tops.”

Standing in front of her row of bags, she says, “A week.”

“You have a week to be out?” I come around and stand next to her.

She takes another sip of water, and then her head bobbles. “Four days from receipt.”

I temper myself before speaking this time. Getting upset will not do her any good nor will it help my position in her life, which is something I’m not willing to risk. “When did you receive it?”

She turns and looks at me. “Technically, on New Year’s Eve. Right before you picked me up.” There’s no tension in her shoulders as she laughs like it’s an inside joke. “It’s a funny story, actually. I thought it was you at the door. Nope. It was some guy serving me papers.”

“Wait, how did he get into the building?” Some security system. That irritation can be dealt with another day.

“That’s still a mystery, but weasels always find a way.” She nudges my ribs with her elbow. “Am I right?”

“Marlow,” I caution. “This isn’t a joke. It’s Wednesday.”

“Trust me, Jackson. I don’t think this part of the story is funny at all, but it’s just another hit at this point. Also, it’s Thursday if we’re going by the actual time since it’s after midnight.”

“Do you mind if I look at it?”

She moves around me and heads toward the kitchen again. “Go right ahead.” She picks it up and hands it to me.

I pull the document out again and do a quick scan for dates. “I’m not even sure this is legal. Did you contact your lawyer?” When she doesn’t respond, I look up to see her shying away. “Do you have a lawyer?”