Reluctantly Yours(87)

“Okay.” I nod, noting to make sure I don’t lose my key fob once I actually receive it. I’m wondering if it was sent to Barrett’s place.

Todd departs and I take in the small entryway. It’s freshly painted and has new hand railings on the stairs. There’s also a heavy-duty all-weather rug and a plant in a yellow pot in the corner by the mailboxes. I throw the garment bag over my arm and head for the stairs.

Upstairs, the changes continue. New paint, floors refinished, updated light fixtures overhead. When I get to my apartment door, I have to check the number because the doors are all freshly painted and the tiny heart engraving below the peep hole isn’t there anymore. The black doors are modern and nice, but I do miss seeing that heart engraving.

I look around again before using my apartment key that by some miracle still works. I thought my landlord was going to get rid of the mice, not redo the entire building. The key works, but the lock is firm now, no jiggling in a precise way required.

On the other side of the door, I find more changes. My belongings are there, but they’ve been rearranged, likely due to the fact that the floors and wall paint are new in here, too. The brick wall looks less crumbly, I’m not sure what has been done to remedy that. The light fixture overhead is new…it has a ceiling fan now. The most startling change is the tiny window in the front isn’t tiny anymore. It’s large and takes up the upper half of the wall. It also seems quieter; did they add more insulation? Or maybe that’s the result of a window that is properly sealed. There’s no sign of Ralph, either.

I’m in shock. The place looks great. But more surprising is that according to Todd, it’s been complete for weeks, yet I’ve heard nothing from my landlord or from Barrett.

I pull up her number and hit the call button.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Chloe Anderson in apartment 2B on 116th Street.”

“Hi, Chloe. How are you? How is everything with the apartment?” She sounds eager to please.

“Good. I was wondering where my key fob was sent. I never got notice that the apartment was ready.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. I was certain I sent everything to you. I double checked multiple times.”

“Okay. Can you verify where it was delivered?” I ask.

“Yes, let’s see. It was delivered on July 10th to the temporary address on file.”

“Was it signed for?” I ask, wondering if maybe it got lost in transit. I really don’t want to pay fifty dollars for a new key fob.

“Yes, by B. St. Clair,” she confirms. “Did you not receive it? I can send out another one free of charge. They normally cost fifty dollars, but I can make an exception this time.”

“No,” I tell her, “that’s not necessary. I’m sure I’ll be able to locate it.”

I end the call and lock up my apartment. Garment bag in hand, I start the walk toward the subway, and wonder the whole time why Barrett would keep this from me.





I find Barrett in the kitchen. The sight of him, blue dress shirt with sleeves rolled up, his strong hands working the cork out of a bottle of wine, nearly knocks me over. Also, he’s having what seems like an intense conversation with Baxter.

“I think we should tell her.”

“Tell me what?” I ask.

Before I can inquire further, Barrett greets me with a passionate kiss and a moment later I’m on the kitchen counter, my legs wrapped around his waist. My hands are in his hair and his are working their way up my thighs, and underneath my skirt.

It’s only when our intense make-out session knocks the garment bag off the stool that I remember my annoyance with him.

I push on his chest to get some space and hop off the counter to retrieve the now slumped over garment bag.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks.

“My dress for Lauren’s wedding.”

“Ah. Lauren of the bachelorette party.” His tone goes serious as he remembers why we’re in this situation. A situation in which I’m not sure what’s happening anymore. His deal with Fred will be signed next week and then what? There’s been no discussion about what would happen after the deal closes now that we’ve been hooking up.

We’re supposed to break up, but that was before I started falling for him.

“It was at my apartment,” I say, then wait for his reaction. When his response is to reach for his glass and hand me the other, I continue. “Do you know what else I found there?”

“What?” He’s the picture of innocence.

“A completely redone apartment.” I flap my arms around, the incredulousness I felt earlier returning.

“You’re upset about your apartment being updated?” he asks.

“No. It’s not the new paint or the new light fixtures or the entryway plant or the fancy intercom system that I’m upset about.”

“So, what’s the problem?” He looks nonplussed and it only serves to frustrate me more.

“It’s done!” I gesture wildly. “And I had no idea. That’s the issue.”

“Okay.” His face is giving nothing away.

“My neighbor said everything was completed weeks ago. A key fob was sent to this address and signed for by you, yet I’ve never seen it. Can you explain that?”