Sharing Space (The Complete Series) (9 page)

“What are you doing?”

“Look, it’s harmless.”

“It’s nasty. You’re nasty. What are you doing?”

With a grin on his face Patrick continued to advance toward me with the spider wiggling in his hand. I turned and ran towards my room. Patrick gave chase, laughing the whole way and, in spite of myself, I found I’d begun to laugh, too. I made it to my room and slammed the door seconds before Patrick. 

“Stop being such a girl!” he yelled from the other side of the door.

“Stop being so nasty!” I yelled back. 

“Just come out and look at it. It’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it.”

“I don’t care if it’s peeing its little spider pants all down your hand. You need to stop playing and throw it away.” I heard Patrick chuckle as he made his way back down the hallway leading to the living room.  “And wash your hands!” I called after him. His response was more laughter.

I set the beer on my dresser and searched for something more comfortable to wear. The hot shower I’d been anticipating had been upgraded to an hour-long soak in the tub.  Just as I was about to open the door Patrick knocked on it.

“Chloe, come on out.”

“Is it gone?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you. I swear, if you’re lying…”

My laughing response was cut off with Patrick’s next words.

“Someone’s here to see you. It’s Lawrence.”

I entered the living room to find Lawrence seated in the armchair that had previously held my purse and keys. They were now on the coffee table. I don’t know what infuriated me more: the fact that he’d shown up unannounced and had the audacity to get comfortable as if things were the same as before his betrayal, or the way he was watching Patrick with open hostility as he retrieved his laptop. 

I stood in Lawrence’s line of vision and stared at him while addressing Patrick, who’d begun to unplug his computer. “Patrick, you don’t need to leave. You live here. Besides, this won’t take long.” I crossed my arms across my chest and gave Lawrence the most evil look I could muster.

“I don’t mind. Really. Give me a shout when you’re done.”

Sneering in Patrick’s direction Lawrence said, “It might be a while, bro.”

Patrick gave Lawrence an appraising look that clearly determined he didn’t like what he saw. He shook his head and started to leave the room without his laptop. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” he called over his shoulder.

Props for Patrick.

Lawrence blew out a breath and stood to face me. “You need to check your boy.”

“His name is Patrick and he lives here. How dare you just show up without calling and try to play him like that?”

“Chloe, I’ve
been
calling and you won’t talk to me. What else was I suppose to do?”

“How about take the hint and leave me alone? Or better yet, how about not cheating on me to begin with?”

“So what, you just going to forget everything we had for almost a year without giving me a chance to explain and say I’m sorry?”

I stared at him, wondering where he found the nerve. He was standing before me looking as fine as he always did in a cream linen suit. The suit hung perfectly from his rock-solid frame and the color worked against his dark complexion. He was pleading with me with almond-shaped eyes. His head was shaved completely, which was a new look from the last time I saw him. Images from that time came flooding back, assaulting me. I could have kicked myself for weakening for even a moment.

“Were you thinking about everything we had when you were screwing that chick?”

“Chloe, that was my ex. We ran into each other at a dinner party a few weeks ago. Remember, I asked you to go with me to the thing for Jay Z, but you couldn’t and—”

“So this is my fault?”

“No, no, I’m just trying to explain how it happened. We ran into each other and she started calling. Things didn’t end right with us and we had all of this unfinished business—”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Apparently.”

“I didn’t mean like that. We just… we had a lot to talk about and one thing led to another. I never wanted to hurt you and I know it was wrong. That’s why I’ve been trying so hard to get to you. I wanted to apologize the right way.”

He reached out to take my hand and I tried to pull it away, but his grip was strong. He rubbed my hand with both of his. “Chloe, I love you. I messed up. Big time. Huge. The biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and all I want is a chance to make it right. One chance. You love me. I know you do. You can’t just turn your feelings off like that.”

I closed my eyes and allowed him to continue to hold my hand. “Maybe I did love you.” I pulled my hand away, opened my eyes, and took a step back. “But things are different now.”

Lawrence also took a step back and his pleading, remorseful face suddenly turned angry. “Why? Because ol’ dude moved in?”

“What? No. No. This has nothing to do with Patrick and everything to do with you tainting what we had. I gave you everything. I was never anything but honest with you. I supported you, and that wasn’t enough. You took all I had to offer and you spat on it. You tell me, how do we fix that?”

“I don’t know, but you owe it to us to try.”

“I don’t owe you anything. You need to go.”

He reached out for me again but before I could insist that he leave, Patrick’s voice drew our attention.

“Five minutes are up.”

Lawrence looked from me to Patrick and back again.

“Look, dude, this has nothing to do with you—”

“Maybe not,” I interrupted. “But he’s right. Your time is up.”

For a moment I watched the internal struggle play across Lawrence’s face. I knew I was essentially cutting him off at the knees, punking him if you will, in front of Patrick; however, I didn’t really care. Lawrence shook his head and walked to the door. Turning before he left he said to me, “We’re not done.” I sat on the sofa suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

“Are things always this exciting around here?”

Patrick sat on the arm of the sofa. I looked up at him and felt awful. “Patrick, I’m so sorry about that. He shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, and then I used you to make him upset because—”

“He deserved it? He’s an ass? Just stop me when I get one wrong.”

“We were a couple up until about a week ago. I caught him with another woman at his apartment.”

“So I was right?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“He is an ass.” 

***

Since coming back from Chicago, Lila had been in rare form. We were trying to land three new accounts that would bring in serious revenue for B&L. As a consequence, I spent long days at the office. I didn’t mind because it kept my mind off Lawrence, who had been calling and
even stopped by the agency. I had the receptionist tell him I was in a meeting.

I was afraid if I allowed myself to slow down long enough to hear what he had to say, I'd fall for it out of loneliness more than anything else. I knew he was no good, but it was hard going from eight months of having someone to suddenly having no one. I was starting to miss him.  Not him specifically, but all that he represented: companionship and affection. It would be too easy to pretend that everything would be okay, just to allow him back into my bed long enough to fill the emptiness. That was something weak women did and I didn't fancy myself a weak woman. 

I’d gladly put in the long hours if it also meant securing that promotion. I’d taken my entry-level position to pay my dues, and I was ready to collect something in return. I knew I was at the top of a very short list, and I appreciated every opportunity Lila gave me to stay there. The few times that I had filled Myra in on my plans, she'd accused me of sucking up to Lila. It didn’t help our already strained relationship that I had to turn down her recent lunch invitation because Lila and I planned to spend the hour revamping a presentation for a major client. I hoped that Myra believed that was the real reason, and not that I was still mad. I wasn't, but I couldn't be sure from her voice as she said, "Okay. Well, maybe tomorrow then,” and hung up.

The heat wave was a distant memory. The leaves were starting to turn, the wind was starting to blow, and navels were starting to get covered. Just as I was getting used to the change in seasons, I was also getting used to the changes at home.  As I suspected, Patrick and I didn’t see much of each other. He spent his days working at the gym and sometimes going on auditions. There were even a few nights a week that he worked at the gym giving personal training sessions to clients who were too busy during the day. By the time he got home I was already in my room reading in bed. I would hear him enter, busy about in the kitchen, and then settle in the living room watching television for a while before turning in.  A few times he'd come home while I was in the living room working on office projects on my laptop. He was always mindful to ask if the television would bother me—it didn’t—and even ask about my day. It felt pretty good going to bed each night knowing that a man was in the apartment.  I felt safer.

I'd managed to avoid having to tell my mother about Patrick since she picked mid-September to go on a two-week cruise. I received a postcard from someplace in the Bahamas. I could have sworn it was hurricane season down there but, once my mother made up her mind to do something, she did it. If she got it into her head to visit the Bahamas in the middle of September, hurricanes be damned. That was my mother. I knew I couldn’t avoid telling her forever, especially since she was due home in a few days. I had to prepare myself for my own personal hurricane when she found out I was living with a man.

Chapter Seven

Crossing the Line

Patrick

Living with Max and Paul had pretty much been a free-for-all. We didn’t squabble over bathroom space, groceries, or chores. Things just worked themselves out. Even though the closest I’d come to living with a woman was college co-ed dorms, I knew that the same approach would not fly living with Chloe. It was a big adjustment for her, having me in the apartment, so I was extra diligent in not leaving my crap around and remembering to put down the toilet seat.

Even though we’d cleared the air I wondered if Chloe had any residual feelings over Max’s comments. She’d seemed almost offended by my saying that I had no intentions of hitting on her, but maybe that was wishful thinking on my part. In fact she’d probably thought, "Who does this white boy think he is? I
know
we're not going to be anything but platonic 'cause I wouldn't give him the time of day."

I might have made an ass of myself and, even though what I said wasn't entirely true—a man would have to be deaf, dumb, blind, gay, and racist to not be interested in Chloe—it had to be said. I couldn't have my new roommate thinking I was a womanizer out to get into her panties. 

And it’s not like they weren't nice panties. One Saturday I was returning home and ran into Chloe in the hallway on her way back from the basement laundry room. I offered to carry the basket up and she accepted. It was hard not to notice the lingerie.  She seems to be fond of Victoria's Secret in shades of blue and green. I didn't even want to think of how good they must have looked against her skin for fear of slipping on my own drool and falling down the stairs.

No, I was sure a woman like Chloe was not worried about me hitting on her, but there was something there, an unease. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I didn’t have to wonder for too long as it all became clear during what could be called our first fight.

"Did you see this?"

I'd just entered the apartment after working at the gym. A quick check of the mailbox revealed two envelopes for Chloe: our electricity bill and a notice from Mr. Tucci. Chloe was sitting on the couch, legs folded under her, wearing reading glasses and nose-deep in her Kindle. The soft sounds of Adele and the aroma of garlic filled the apartment.