Lindsey Kelk 5-Book 'I Heart...' Collection (68 page)

‘I’m imagining,’ I said slowly.

‘And if you’d told me that, I can’t see that we’d want to let you go, so I would offer you a raise on your blog and offer to speak to the magazine editor right away … So, anything you want to tell me …?’

‘I’ve been approached by another publisher?’

‘And?’

‘They’ve offered me a blog and a column?’

‘Right.’

‘So …’

‘So, I can offer you a raise on the blog and I’ll speak to the magazine editors today.’ Mary flicked her computer screen back on. ‘I’ll call you later.’

‘Thanks, Mary,’ I said, standing up to leave, not entirely certain of what had happened. ‘I’ll speak to you later?’

‘Yes you will,’ she said without looking up. ‘And really good work on the interview, Angela. All the bullshit that went along with it aside, you did great work.’

‘Thanks?’ I was fairly certain it was a compliment. ‘Bye Cici.’

‘Bye girl-who-turned-James-Jacobs-gay.’

Yes, of course I wanted to spend more time here.

‘So you fixed the fuses?’

‘Yes, Jenny,’ I sighed, hustling along Forty-Second Street towards Bryant Park. Already the little square of green was full of busy Midtown workers trying to snatch five minutes in the spring sunshine. The weather had broken in the last week and the streets of New York were suddenly somewhere I wanted to be again and not the subzero enemy of the ballet pump, friend only to the ugly Ugg. The last time I’d been sitting in the park, (trying unsuccessfully to mend a broken heel), it had been so cold, I could barely breath. ‘But seriously, you shouldn’t leave me alone. I’m sure I broke the oven.’

‘You have an oven?’

‘We. We have an oven,’ I practically shouted down my mobile phone. ‘It’s still very much our oven. And yes, it’s definitely there. I found some old cereal boxes in there; you’ve been using it as a cupboard.’

‘You didn’t find a roommate yet?’ she crackled.

‘It’s only been a week,’ Through sheer force of habit, I looked both ways up and down the road, even though the traffic only went north, before sprinting across Sixth Avenue. ‘I haven’t even been looking for a flatmate. I’ve been so busy.’

Which wasn’t entirely untrue. I’d had an entire week of TiVo to catch up on and, well, I was still hoping I would open the door at any second to find Jenny on the doorstep, bag in hand, sobbing that LA was a big bag of crap and she was home for good.

‘Busy turning more hot guys gay?’

‘Don’t you start,’ I muttered. ‘Anyway, how are you? Bored? Missing me? Coming home?’

‘Uh, real answer or answer that will make you feel better?’

‘The second one.’

‘It sucks. It’s been raining every day; I’m not getting to do any sort of styling; totally didn’t meet Ryan Phillippe yesterday and I hate it.’

‘Just as well,’ I said over the swishing and cursing in the background. ‘Jenny Lopez, tell me you are not driving while you’re talking to me.’

‘I’m not driving while I’m talking to you?’

Well, I had asked her to lie.

‘How’s Alex? Everything OK?’ she yelled, but not over her own horn because she wasn’t driving.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I think so. I mean, we had the talk before we left but we haven’t really discussed it since. Any of it.’

‘You two using the L word?’

‘Hmm. Kind of.’

‘You using the L word when you’re not drunk or in bed? Or drunk in bed?’

‘Not really. I feel a bit like the whole LA thing never happened.’

She went quiet for a moment. ‘Doesn’t mean a thing, Angie.’

‘Hmm.’

‘It’s not like he was totally gushing with the emotion before, is it?’

‘Yeah, he sort of was.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘But you don’t think there’s anything wrong?’ she asked. ‘Maybe he’s just, you know, expressing his feelings without words. Baby.’

‘He writes songs for a living, Jenny,’ I replied. ‘I think he’s fairly comfortable with words. I don’t know. I’m just getting so tired of trying to second-guess him, but I don’t want to say anything and risk getting into another deep and meaningful. What if something is wrong and he starts thinking it’s all just too much like hard work?’

‘It does sound a little like hard work, honey,’ she said. ‘You should dump his ass and get back over to LA. You could totally blog from here. Ooh, you and James could do an internet show! It would be awesome.’

‘Maybe,’ I smiled at the thought. It would be awesome. ‘Have you seen him?’

‘Uh, no, because he wasn’t there when I did not met Ryan Phillippe last night. And he did not say to say hi.’

‘Right. I’m going to ignore the Ryan Phillippe thing until you manage to fit it in a third time. He’s OK?’

‘He’s totally OK,’ she confirmed. ‘He’s so out, it’s not even funny. He and Blake are making out all over town. You haven’t seen the pictures?’

‘Strangely enough, I haven’t really been keeping up with the gossip blogs,’ I said. ‘I’m glad everything’s all right for him, though. Blake not so much.’

‘Yeah, right.’ She broke off to launch a series of impressive expletives at whoever was in the next car. ‘You know how I’m not driving? Well, I didn’t just turn the wrong way down a one-way street so I’m just gonna go because I’m … busy.’

‘Just be careful,’ I tried not to tut. How was I supposed to take care of her if she was living two and a half thousand miles away? ‘I’ll speak to you later. Love you.’

‘Well fuck you too asshole! Love you, Angela,’ she called back and hung up.

After stocking up on too many boxes of cereal and cartons of milk, I ambled upstairs, struggling with my keys. I juggled a box of Lucky Charms, a half-empty Starbucks and my beloved, but now quite frankly knackered handbag, managing to wedge my cereal between the door, my cheek and shoulder while I fumbled my key into the lock, waiting for a click.

‘I could just hold that for you?’

‘Oh God, Alex,’ I gasped, throwing my shopping across the landing, narrowly avoiding blinding him with a box of Cap’n Crunch. ‘I didn’t hear you behind me.’

‘That would be because you were talking to your shopping the whole way up the stairs.’ He took a couple of boxes from me and kissed me on the forehead.

‘I don’t have a flatmate any more, OK?’ I muttered, pushing the door open. ‘I have to talk to someone.’

‘Yeah, I’ve kind of been wanting to talk about that,’ Alex said behind me. But I wasn’t really listening. The apartment was full of flowers. Not just a couple of bouquets on the windowsill and the kitchen counter but actually full. Every surface was groaning with hand-tied bouquets of roses, boxes of lilies, vases spilling over with gerberas and every single arrangement was a different colour. It was so beautiful that the fact a complete stranger had broken into my apartment escaped me for a second. I turned and looked at Alex. Unless it wasn’t a complete stranger. Maybe it was someone who just so happened to be hiding out at the top of my stairs.

‘Did you do this?’ I asked, dropping the rest of my shopping. ‘It’s incredible.’

‘I really want to say yes,’ he said, following me into the apartment. ‘But all I did was this.’

He took my hand and covered it in both of his, leaving something small and hot in my palm. It was a key.

‘You borrowed the spare key?’ I asked, still disoriented by the flowers; the sweet smell of the roses was almost unbearable. I put the key down on the side and went to open a window. ‘Is that how you let the flower man in?’

‘I didn’t let anyone in,’ Alex said. ‘I was waiting across the road in the diner for you. Like I said, I didn’t do this. Starting to wish I had: sure as hell would make this easier.’

‘Make what easier?’ I asked, hunting for a card. There had to be something in one of the baskets. Eventually I spotted a big white envelope peeking out of one of the cardboard bags packed with freesias and baby’s breath. ‘Oh my God, it’s from James.’

‘Great,’ Alex said flatly.

‘“Dear Angela,”’ I read aloud. ‘“Hope this isn’t too OTT. I can’t help it, I’m gay you know. Jenny lent me her key, I’ve asked the courier to leave it in the bedroom. She says you can bring it back when you come back out to visit us VERY SOON. Love James x.” Isn’t that so lovely?’

‘Lovely,’ Alex repeated, still standing in the doorway, framed by two giant three-foot vases packed with towering lilies.

‘Just let me find the key and I’ll make a drink,’ I called from the bedroom. ‘Did you want to do something? Sorry, I haven’t even said hello, this is just mad, sorry. Oh my God.’

‘What is it now?’

‘I don’t know but it’s from Marc Jacobs,’ I squealed, ripping open a second white envelope that rested on top of a large, stiff white carrier bag. Jenny’s key fell on to my floor, vanishing under my bed. ‘From my friend Marc. He says look after this one.’

Inside the carrier bag was a huge white dust bag and inside the dust bag was an enormous royal blue leather satchel. I dropped my old beloved bag on the floor and slipped the slender strap over my head, letting the bag rest against my hip. I span to show Alex, beaming from ear to ear. He gave me a tight smile and bent down to pick up my spare key.

‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ I stretched ‘beautiful’ out for about a minute before turning back to my mirror to admire the bag. ‘Isn’t James so amazing?’

‘Yeah,’ Alex said, one hand behind his head, ruffling his short choppy hair while his long fringe flopped down over a distinctly unhappy expression. ‘Where should I put this key?’

‘Well actually, I was thinking.’ I felt my face flush and started to stumble over my words. ‘I was thinking that you should maybe hang on to it.’

‘You were?’ he asked, half a smile starting on his face.

‘I was going to get one cut for you,’ I nodded, excited that he wasn’t freaking out. ‘After last night’s fuse-box fiasco, I think it would make sense. I mean, Erin has one but she’s all the way up town and it makes more sense for you to have it, doesn’t it?’

‘Oh. OK. You want me to hold on to this for emergencies.’ His smile dissolved into a thin line.

‘And you know, to let yourself in and stuff. So you don’t have to wait for me in the diner,’ I added quickly, squeezing the skinny strap of my bag. Why did I feel like I’d messed up? ‘I want you to have a key to my apartment.’

‘Thanks.’

I looked back at the tiny silver key sparkling amongst all the flowers on the kitchen top.

‘Alex, if that key you gave me wasn’t my spare, then what was it?’

He sighed, his shoulders dropping. ‘It’s the key to my place.’

‘You were going to give me a spare key?’ I asked. If he was giving me his spare key, why was he being so funny about me giving him mine? ‘How weird is that?’

‘It wasn’t supposed to be a spare,’ he said, sitting down on the edge of my bed. ‘I know you don’t really want to get another roommate and I guess Jenny isn’t coming back anytime soon, so I was kind of going to suggest that you move in with me.’

I sat down next to him on the bed.

‘All the shit we went through last week, Angela, it’s all because we’re still playing stupid games. I know we got it all wrong the first time, that it was all too much too soon, but I know that I love you so what are we waiting for? As soon as you left for the airport, I missed you. As soon as I saw those pictures online I freaked out, I was so jealous. I hated the thought of losing you so much that I got on a plane to come and see you.’

‘Right.’ I said.

‘The more I think about it, the thought of not having to go further than the next room to see you just makes me really, really happy,’ he held a hand above my knee then dropped in on the bed. ‘So if I’ve been a little weird this week, it’s because I’ve had a lot on my mind.’

‘Right.’

I ran my finger along the gold zipper on my bag. Lovely bit of craftsmanship.

‘I’m not asking you to pack a suitcase and come with me right away,’ Alex said. ‘But I’ll leave you the key, OK?’

‘OK,’ I said, pulling the zip backwards and forwards.

‘I know I can’t compete with your Hollywood boyfriend but I picked this up on the way.’ He lifted up the flap on his battered satchel and pulled out a single sunflower and placed it on my lap. ‘I guess I thought it would be romantic or something. Angela, are you going to say anything?’

I tugged the zip all the way closed and carefully pulled the strap over my head, placing the bag back inside its dust bag. I had no idea where the dust bag was for my first bag. Really, I shouldn’t be allowed to have nice things if I couldn’t look after them. Even if I really wanted them.

‘I don’t really know what to say,’ I offered, still not quite able to look at him and gripping the end of the bed with both hands. ‘Not because I don’t want to live with you. I’m just a bit surprised.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ he breathed out, placing one of his hands over mine. It was warm and covered my hand completely. ‘So, you’ll think about it?’

‘I will,’ I promised, finally breaking my staring contest with the carpet and stealing a sneak peek at his deep green eyes. They were big and wide and hopeful. ‘I will. Everything you said, it was right. I will think about it.’

‘Then that‘s enough for now,’ he said, putting the sunflower in my hand. ‘I have to go –?I have terrible pollen allergies and this place is worse than a florist’s.’

‘You big girl,’ I said, following him out to the hallway. ‘Do you want to do something later?’

‘I have practice, could go on,’ he said, wrinkling up his nose at the roses on the counter. ‘See you tomorrow?’

I nodded, kissed him once more and then watched him jog down the stairs. Closing the door, I leaned back against it, his sunflower still in my hand. Putting it in the only vase I had in the house, I set it on the windowsill, clearing James’s flowers to give it some space.

I dropped to the sofa and yawned. It was reassuring to be back on New York time, blogging from my own living room; comforting, even. For as long as it was my own living room. God, this moving in thing was going to take some thinking about. Maybe living with Alex could be amazing. Waking up with him, going to sleep with him, not going to sleep with him … but I couldn’t make a decision based on that, could I? There was that racing heartbeat again.

‘Blog first, life-changing decisions later,’ I said to my laptop, logging on.