Page 13 of A Bossy Roommate
“Oh,that.” Gretchen nods as if it’s a topic they’ve discussed (and possibly experienced) in real life a million times.
All innocently, with my halo shining brighter than the brightest star, I say, “I see that everyone feels the same way about him.”
“He pulls off the ‘dress shirt and tie but with cool jeans’ look perfectly.” Lexi lets out a wistful sigh, her slender shoulder rising and falling in a dreamy swoon. “But on special occasions, you know, for important presentations, board meetings and such, you’ll see him in his tailored three-piece suit. So hot. It’s a company rule. Rumor has it, he hides tattoos under his suit. I doubt it.” She fans herself with her hand. “Well, a girl can dream at least. Too bad we’ll never know the truth. Gossip is really,reallybad around here. People talk, and talk, and talk, it’s crazy.”
“Yeah,crazy,” Jaylin teases, eyeing her.
“Why he’s single, we’ll never know.” Gretchen adjusts a blonde strand of hair and clips it back. “After all, he’s one of NYC’s top five most eligible billionaire bachelors. I’ve been working here a long time and have seen countless women throw themselves at him. But he simply doesn’t take notice.”
Jaylin swallows, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her paper napkin. “I think it speaks of his professionalism to keep his private life a mystery. Besides, a boss checking out his employees or, for that matter, ogling any women in front of his workers—socreepy. He’s simply focused on his career. Becoming partner.”
“I, for my part, think he simply has impossibly high standards,” Lexi says.
Gretchen nods in agreement. “Sky-high standards, true, but his sense of humor? MIA.”
Ignoring the two women, Jaylin faces me. “The good thing is, you won’t have to worry about him getting too touchy-feely with you.”
Right.
“Okay, well, aside from him, what else can you tell me about Legacy?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
One of the servers brings over my and Gretchen’s food while we talk about the company, and the lunch gets better from there. It’s nice to be with new people who don’t know I was a small-town gal, whoaccidentallymanaged to sleep with one of NYC’s most eligible billionaires, despite his impossibly high standards. With a confidence boost of one trillion-gazillion, I enjoy my break with my new friends. It’s exactly the kind of pick-me-up I need to help me get through the rest of the day.
After we returnto the company, I go back to my desk where I find a slew of emails from Carter, outlining tasks he wants me to tackle before the end of the day. He’s tied up with meetings for the rest of the afternoon, which is a godsend. I’m happy to throw myself into my work, especially without having to train my traitorous mind to stop looking and thinking about him.
Five o’clock rolls around, and I’m ready to call it a day. Overall, I’m glad about the way the assignments worked out. The tasks themselves came naturally to me and being able to jump right in without delay felt good. I’m ready to get to my new place and have a nice quiet evening getting settled.
After saying goodnight to my new coworkers, I retrieve Kiki from the parking garage. The old lady now sports a shiny new parking sticker, courtesy of HR. Singing to the music and plugging in my apartment’s address on my phone’s GPS, I’m finally on my way to my new home, but not before stopping at a bakery to buy a box of cupcakes called “RaspberryEuphoria Delights” (delectable cupcakes adorned with a velvety buttercream frosting, delicately handcrafted using a luscious raspberry puree) and stuffing it in one of my bags. I’m already anticipating the delight of indulging in my cherished celebratory treat, a personal reward I never fail to bestow upon myself for reaching significant milestones.
The buildingI pull up to isenormous. Down in the garage level, I can immediately tell by the other cars in the lot that it’s much fancier than I expected. Every car around my spot is sleek and expensive. Amid the shiny Ferrari fellas, my little Kiki will be gasping in disbelief all night. I even catch sight of a couple of big motorcycles carefully tucked away under tarps. Between no rent, manageable bills, and the nice chunk of money I’ll be making at Legacy, I’ll be able to get my life together in no time.
I grab my bags and two rolling suitcases, grateful to be the only one in the elevator because it means no one will see me as the silly bag lady struggling to carry all her belongings in one trip.
Ping.
The elevator doors open on my level, the 6th. It’s nice and quiet when I step out. It also smells good. The hallway is spacious, and there are only two apartments. One on the left, number fourteen, and one on the right, number fifteen. Fifteen, that one’s mine. The thought of having only one neighbor to deal with is exciting. Back in Maine, my tiny old apartment shared paper-thin walls with neighbors all around me. Between having active kids, playing their TV loudly (at least I hoped the screaming was TV), and shouting at their barking dogs all the time, my hopes are high that my new neighbor will be the quiet, pleasant kind.
As I struggle to find my keys, my bag bumps against the door.
It suddenly opens.
“Oh!” The unexpected sight of two light-brown eyes staring at me scares the crap out of me, and I end up jumping in surprise and almost dropping the stuff I’m still carrying.
“Gosh, I’m so sorry to startle you,” says the old woman in a British accent, opening the door fully. She wears a comfortable-looking cashmere sweater and clean slacks. With a well-put-together appearance, her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Can I help you at all?” Her accent is a little slice of uniqueness that makes her even more endearing. I wonder if she lived in England for some time or if she grew up in a family with British heritage.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have the wrong apartment,” I say, my hands too full to reach my phone to double-check. “I’m looking for apartment fifteen.”
“This is the one, love!”
My stomach drops. “Oh, are you the…?”
“That’s right, I reside in this very place. Hattie Hutton is the name I go by. And who might you be?”
I stand there for a second, holding the bags that contain my life. “I’m Eden, Eden Ryan, and I was supposed to be staying here for the next six months.”
Hattie’s eyes light up. “Oh, wonderful! Good old Lewis mentioned there would be a young lady keeping the place cozy until they found someone to rent it full time.”
Relief washes over me. “Yup, that’s me.”