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Sebastian
I breathe a heavy sigh of relief as I slide the key into the lock of the apartment. I’ve been home twice since I had dinner with Matilda. Both times it was for a four-hour stretch in the middle of the night.
I clocked in three-and-a-half hours of sleep followed by a shave, a shower and breakfast before dawn broke.
On Saturday morning I was surprised when I opened the refrigerator to find an assortment of fruit and vegetables. I grabbed two apples and an orange, then left the apartment mindful of the fact that Matilda was fast asleep in her bedroom.
I did the same this morning. The only difference was the bunch of bananas sitting atop the counter.
She’d been to the grocery store twice in as many days to pick up food for us. I appreciated it and told her as much in a note that I left on the counter.
I was tempted to text her to thank her, but I didn’t want to wake her at four a.m., even though seeing her face was what I’ve craved all weekend while I worked this case.
“Did you catch the bad guy?”
Her voice is like liquid sunshine as it washes over me when I step into the foyer.
I look to where she’s sitting on the sofa, her knees curled up to her chest. She’s wearing a blue T-shirt and faded jeans with holes in the knees. Her feet are bare. As is her face.
I’ve never seen a more striking woman without a stitch of makeup on.
“We caught him,” I say as I pocket my keys. “It took all fucking weekend, but he’s downtown in lock up.”
“Is he the one who killed that woman in the park?” Her brows perk as I walk closer to her. “It’s been all over the news since Friday night.”
“That’s the one, “ I reply as I lower myself to sit on the corner of the wooden coffee table. “I’m beat. How has your weekend been?”
Her eyes drift from the mindless chatter that’s taking place on the television screen to my face. “Fine. Quiet.”
Her phone buzzes next to her and a flash of a text message pops onto the screen. Her gaze falls to it before she fishes it into her palm.
“I need to get ready.” She shifts in place, stretching her legs. “I’m heading out.”
She must have a date.
I don’t welcome the unwanted wave of disappointment that washes over me. My plan since I boarded the subway to come home was to shower and then pass the fuck out in my bed.
I know she’s due back at work tomorrow so I assumed she’d have a low-key evening planned. Apparently, I assumed wrong.
“I won’t wait up,” I quip.
She pushes herself up to her feet. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look dead tired and that’s not a lame attempt at a homicide detective joke.”
I laugh. “So I look like shit?”
Her gaze glides over my face. “No. I didn’t say that.”
The inference is there. I know she thinks I’m attractive. I saw the way she was looking at me in the Uber on our way to Calvetti’s the other night.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her during dinner. She noticed my interest. I know she did.
I may be exhausted but I’d give up sleep for a week to spend the night continuing the conversation we were having at the restaurant. I want to keep her glued to the spot she’s standing for as long as I can, so I ask a question I have no right asking. “Do you want to run the name of the guy you’re meeting by me? It wouldn’t hurt to double check that he’s not a part of an open homicide investigation.”
I want her to correct me and tell me she’s on her way to see, Kate, the woman I met the day after I moved in.
She shifts on her bare feet. “This one checks out. I’ve known him for awhile.”
Him.
Fuck.
I rub my chin. I’m irritated that it bothers me that she’s meeting a guy. I have no claim on her. She’s my roommate. That’s it.
“I better get going,” she says softly. “I’m glad you solved the case. You make the city a safer place.”
She sounds like the police commissioner when he leads a press tour through the squad room. “I’ll see you soon, Matilda.”
Her eyes catch mine for a brief second. “Good night.”
I’d wish her the same, but I don’t want her to have a good night with anyone else. I want her to stay here with me, but since that can’t happen I watch as she walks away before I head straight to my bedroom alone.
