Mister Fixit (Love in New York #3) (13 page)

“Ready to deal with the issue.” He elaborates. “Ready to face the music.”

My temper’s starting to flare, so I give him the best smile I can manage and walk to the door. “See you on the job,” I say as cheerily as possible. “Thanks so much for dinner. Again.”

“No problem. Anytime. Maybe you’d like to throw a frisbee in the park sometime.”

I can’t laugh at his joke; I’m liable to start bawling.

He pauses at the door like he’s contemplating asking for a goodbye kiss, and I get ready to slap him across the face for even asking, but both potential futures are stopped in their tracks when a buzzer sounds off just next to my face.

I jump, my eyes bugging out of my head.
What the…?

When my brain connects the dots and realizes that horrible sound exacerbating my headache is someone calling me from downstairs, I step over and press the button on the intercom, wondering who in the hell is trying to buzz in after midnight.

“Who’s there?” I ask.

“It’s me.” The voice says, the words slurred. “It’s Robinson.”

I let out a long sigh and rest my head on the wall next to the intercom box.

Jake doesn’t say a word.

A moment later, I lift my head, press the button, and speak. “Stay there. I’m coming down.”

Chapter Twenty-One

THE ELEVATOR RIDE TO THE ground floor of my building will go down in history as one of the most awkward moments of my life. Jake has no place asking me who the man buzzing me in the middle of the night is, but I know he’s curious as hell. He keeps clearing his throat and looking at me and then the floor and the ceiling. I keep my eyes glued to the doors, praying Robinson will go away before I get there. What’s Jake going to say? I didn’t even tell Jake about him. Will he think I hid that detail on purpose? Did I?

Why did Robinson have to show up now? And why does it feel like he saved me from an uncomfortable situation? For the first time in months, a sliver of gratitude toward him sneaks in, and that just pisses me off more. I shouldn’t be looking at Robinson as my hero. Jake was just being a nice guy, trying to help me find a solution the way he did in his own life. It’s not his fault that it won’t work for me. I’m sure a lot of people would appreciate his efforts.

God, my life is so completely screwed up. If gravity reversed and I suddenly had to start walking on the ceiling, I wouldn’t be surprised. Par for the course at this point.

Of course my prayers for Robinson to disappear aren’t answered. No such luck. I can see his dark figure through the ice-frosted glass of the front doors as I step out of the elevator.

“I feel kind of strange about leaving you here with that guy,” Jake says, walking next to me. “Do you know him well?” We’re almost to the front doors when he stops and waits for my answer.

“Yes,” I say, feeling utterly defeated. Karma hates me. This I now know as a fact. “He’s our family attorney.”

Jake mulls that over for a few seconds before responding. “You mean the same lawyer who handled all the business with Cassie?”

“Bingo,” I say with false cheer. “Five points for guessing correctly.”

He looks out the window at Robinson and then at me. “And he’s visiting you at your place in the middle of the night? Drunk?”

His implication that Robinson and I are in a relationship is impossible to miss. I sigh loudly, and as the air leaves my lungs, literally collapse in on myself. My shoulders slump and my backbone turns to jelly. I wish I could just say it out loud, the thing that eats away at my heart on a daily basis: the man who I’ve loved for more than half my life, the same man who helped take my child away from me, is the one standing out there beyond the glass doors. But I can’t say that. Of course I can’t. I have to be a grown up and say what everyone would expect of me.

“He’s an old family friend. I’ve known him since I was a kid.” Rejection, rejection, rejection. Jake will never know the truth: that I was in love with Robinson for over fifteen years and he never even looked at me twice before destroying my life.

“I take it he’s an old boyfriend?”

My head jerks up and I’m instantly mad over even the suggestion that there was ever anything between Robinson and me. “What? Me? Us? No? Whatever gave you that idea?” I don’t even know why I wanted that for so long anymore. I must have been deaf, dumb, and blind to moon over him for so long.

Jake looks at me and then Robinson again. His head drops and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “No reason. Listen, I’d better get going. That guy’s probably freezing out there.”

The smoke from Robinson’s breath lingers all around him, and he’s got the Manhattan hunchback syndrome going, his body folding over on itself as he tries to stay warm.

“So what?” I say, feeling callously bitchy. “He can freeze his butt off out there for all I care.”

Jake gives me a bittersweet smile. “Yeah. Right.” He turns and heads for the door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, pissed all over again. What’s he suggesting? That I do care about Robinson? Because I don’t. I seriously don’t.

“Nothing. See you on the job site.” He walks outside and holds the door open for a few seconds, getting Robinson’s attention.

Robinson turns his head as he grabs the door before it shuts, watching Jake walk out to the curb and hail a passing cab.

“Who’s that guy?” Robinson asks as he walks inside the lobby, still distracted by my visitor. I watch as Jake folds his tall frame into the back of the cab. He doesn’t even look over to say goodbye, but I can’t find it in me to care very much.
Boomp, boomp, boomp, another one bites the dust.

“None of your business.” I turn my attention to Robinson and fold my arms, trying to stay warm in the suddenly cold foyer. “What are you doing here so late?”

Robinson pops up and down on his toes, his arms stiff at his sides. “I don’t know. I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by to see how you’re doing.”

I stare at him, wishing I could read his mind. He stares back at me, his teeth chattering. It’s on the tip of my tongue to send him away, to put him back out there into the freezing cold night… but I don’t. Of course I don’t. The words won’t come out of my mouth, much as I want them to, and I can smell the liquor on his breath. Imagining him falling down and passing out on the sidewalk makes me worry for him. Instead of kicking him out to the street where he belongs, I turn back toward the elevator and press the call button.

“Can I come up?” he asks.

“Can I stop you?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

I shake my head, disgusted with us both. “Just shut up and get in the elevator.” The doors open and I step inside, waiting until Robinson is inside before I press the button for my floor.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“SO, YOU HAD A DATE over,” Robinson says as we ride the elevator up to my floor.

“That’s none of your business, I already told you.” I can’t look at him. I stare at the buttons instead. It seems like the elevator is going in slow motion.

“He that plumber guy?”

I glare at him. “I’m pretty sure none of your business means you have no right to try and identify him.”

“I’m just being friendly.” He tries to smile at me, but it slips when he loses his balance. It’s then that I realize how drunk he really is.

“No, you’re just being nosy. Who really sent you here? Was it James?”

“No.” He laughs and then starts talking in kind of a singsong voice. “In fact, your brother James is being very protective of you if you really want to know.”

The elevator doors slide open with a ding. I step out and turn around, holding them open as I study Robinson’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Generally speaking, my brother James is kind of his own entity. He knows I’m his sister and everything, but I wouldn’t categorize him as overly interested in my life. We used to get together for dinner once in a while, but that’s the extent of our adult sibling relationship. There’s kind of a big age gap between us.

Robinson smiles lazily as he walks up to me, stopping on the edge of the elevator. “He warned me away. Big scary big brother.” He wiggles his fingers at his shoulders like some kind of zombie ghoul.

I shake my head and let my hand fall away from the doors. I don’t care if he gets smooshed between them anymore. Walking over to my door, I stop just in front of it, not looking to see if he’s behind me. He can sleep in the elevator for all I care. At least then I won’t have to worry about him freezing to death out in an alley somewhere.

He follows me with shuffling feet and leans on the wall as I open the door. I’m pretty sure he’s using the hallway for support because he’d fall over if he tried to stand entirely on his own power.

“How much did you drink, anyway?” I ask, shutting the door behind him when he abandons the foyer for the couch. He falls down onto it, his overcoat bunching up around him. His hands are stuck in the pockets, and I watch with amusement as he tries to free them, but then gives up. He slumps down in the cushions and stares at the blank TV screen.

“I don’t know. A couple.”

“I hope you’re not driving.”

“Nah. Got a cab.”

“Who were you with?” I walk into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. I have a feeling Rob’s going to need a couple cups of it before he leaves. Hopefully he won’t piss me off too much and force me to kick him out before I get the caffeine into his system.

“Nobody. Just me. All alone in a bar. Sad huh?” He tips his head back over the couch to look at me. His eyes close and then he winces, picking his head back up. I suspect room-spins are at the root of his movements.

After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and two ibuprofen pills from the cabinet, I join him in the living room. “Here. Take these.”

He opens his eyes and blinks a few times deliberately, trying to re-orient himself. “What’s that?” He eyes my offerings with suspicion.

“Drugs. I’m roofying you.”

He grins and nearly gives me a heart attack with it. Dammit, he can be so cute sometimes.

“Sweet. You’re finally coming around.” He grabs the pills and throws them into his mouth and then takes the water, talking around the ibuprofen on his tongue. “Sure took you long enough.”

I roll my eyes and stand, making sure to kick him as I walk by.

“Ow! Was that deliberate?” He bends over and rubs his shin as I go into the kitchen. Then he swigs the water.

“No less than what you deserve.”

He sighs loud enough for me to hear. “You’re right. Go ahead and grab a frying pan while you’re in there. Bash me in a head a few times. I can take it.”

I pour him a cup of coffee and put in the two spoons of sugar I know he likes. My gaze strays over to the cupboard with the pots and pans, but I abandon the flicker of a thought as soon as it arrives. I don’t want to give Rob a head injury; I just want him to leave me alone. He’ll probably see a bap upside the head with a skillet as an invitation to stay the night.

I go back into the living room with the cup of coffee in hand. “Here,” I say, putting it down on the coffee table, “drink this.” I sit down a couple cushions over from him.

“Mmmm, hemlock tea. My favorite.” He takes the mug and then almost drops it in his haste to put it back down on the coffee table. “Oo-ah! That was hot.” He blows on his fingers.

I lift a brow at him. “That’s why they have handles.”

“They?” he asks, his expression classic confused.

“Coffee mugs.” It crosses my mind that this must be what it feels like to babysit someone with a head injury.

“Oh, yeah.” He looks at the mug and then at me. “Did you just make that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you put two sugars in it?”

“I did.”

His face quivers and then crumples, and before I realize what he’s up to, he falls sideways and grabs me in a hug, trapping my arms at my sides. “Thank you so much!” he sobs.

I sit there stunned, completely clueless. “Uhhh, okay. You’re welcome, I guess.”

“You made me coffee.” He’s actually crying. “With two sugars.”

“Yeesss, I did. Yay me?”

He releases me from his imprisoning hug, but slides his cold hands down to grip mine. He’s staring into my eyes, close enough that I can smell his breath. It might be possible to actually light his breath on fire, had I a candle nearby. Phew. He must have bought a bottle.

“You still care about me,” he says, the sound of relief in his voice.

I roll my eyes and push him away. “Get over yourself, Rob.”

“And you called me Rob!” He traps me in another hug, his face pressed sideways against my breasts.

Try as I might, I can’t pry him off me. After attempting my release for a few seconds, I give up and just wait for his chick moment to be over.

He mumbles into my arm. “I thought you hated me. That you were never going to talk to me again. But you made me coffee with sugar and you called me Rob. Now I know all’s not lost.”

Maybe I should be charmed, but instead, he’s making me angry with his stupid declarations. Does he really think it’s all that easy? That he can show up drunk, I’ll feel sorry for him and try to sober him up for the ride home, and that somehow this means I love him again?

Just thinking the word
love
in my head makes me furious.

“Get off me!” I yell shoving on his shoulder.

He sits back and is once again confused. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, glaring at him. “You’re drunk and you stink. I don’t want you here, so I’m sobering you up enough to put you in a cab. Don’t read anything more into it than it is.”

His hand lifts and rests on his chest. “Ow. That hurt.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I mean it.” He winces. “Fuck, that hurts.” He pushes his thumb into his chest and twists it around.

“Good.”

He reaches for the coffee, but stops midway, grabbing his chest with his other hand. “Ow, mother fu…” He bends over at the waist until his chest is lying on his legs.

“Are you okay?” I’m starting to worry that he’s not messing around.

“It burns,” he grunts out.

I jump off the couch and stand in front of him on the opposite side of the table, my mind dancing at the edge of panic. “Rob! Seriously! Cut it out!”