Page 14 of One Little Favor
“Sure.” Tom shrugs and turns back to finishing the corner he’s painting. It’s not really an acceptance of my request, but I’m not going to push it right now because I don’t want to get into a real fight with my fake boyfriend before we have to meet his family. I’ll save it for afterward, when he’s just my real boss and I can remind him that there’s no reason at all for him to get involved in his employee’s personal life like this.
Tom’s a rule follower like me. He’ll back off.
* * *
By the time I get back to my apartment after finishing up the first coat of paint in Tom’s office and then visiting my parents to say goodbye before they leave for their trip tomorrow, it’s well past my normal dinner time and I’m ravenous. I love the neighborhood in Brooklyn that I grew up in, but I wish it didn’t take so long for me to get there and back on the subway.
I should have just stayed for dinner like my parents suggested, but I was feeling emotional about them leaving and me spending Christmas by myself for the first time ever. I had to get out of there because I’d exhausted my ability to put on a happy front. Now I just want to wallow at home, but I still have some deliveries to finalize for Tom’s office.
I open the refrigerator in my tiny kitchen and pull out the leftovers from last night’s dinner. While it reheats in the microwave, I take my laptop over to the loveseat that sits against the wall next to my bed, and set it on the vintage trunk that serves as my coffee table. I love my place. I love the way I decorated it, and how I’ve used every available square foot for function and beauty. It’s like my tiny refuge in the middle of this crazy city. Since it’s a sixth-floor walk-up, not only do I have nicely toned legs from all the stair climbing, I also have windows that aren’t blocked from the buildings around me, so I get a ton of natural light.
But tonight, it’s already pitch-black outside. I pull the floor-to-ceiling curtains from each edge of the room until they cover the entire far wall. The wall sconces on each side of my bed and the two table lamps that flank my TV on the built-in cabinets along the opposite wall give the room a cozy glow.
I’m finishing up my leftovers on the loveseat while confirming all the details of Tom’s furniture deliveries on Monday when a text from the man himself comes through.
Tom
I’m feeling like I should buy you dinner to say thank you for all the work you did to help me today.
I glance at the time on my phone. 9:20 p.m. Which means Tom’s feeling guilty that he didn’t think of asking me sooner, or he somehow doesn’t have plans on a Saturday night and has found that he’s bored. Maybe, like me, all of his friends have already headed home to be with their families for the holidays?
Avery
No need to buy me dinner, you’re already paying me for all the work I’m doing. Including right now, since I’m arranging the deliveries on Monday morning.
Tom
So, is that a “no” for dinner?
I snap a quick picture of the scene before me—my laptop open on my lap, my feet propped up behind the screen, and my empty plate of leftovers on the trunk next to my feet.
Avery
Already ate, but thanks for the offer!
Tom
Your loss. Cute socks, by the way.
I glance past my computer screen at the socks in question and am a bit mortified to realize I’m wearing the Fair Isle slipper socks my aunt knitted me last year for Christmas. They’re a pretty hideous pattern with blue, yellow, and white. But they are warm and I love that they come up to my shins.
I’m considering if and how to respond to that when he sends another message.
Tom
Can I do anything to help with the work?
Since when has Tom Shepherd ever wanted to do other people’s work? I’m not quite sure what’s gotten into him. He’s paying me to do this, it’s not like I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart. Though to be honest, if he’d asked as a favor, I’d probably have said yes even if he wasn’t paying me because I find myself incapable of not giving in to him. The money is going to be a really nice bonus, though.
Avery
It’s all set. I’m actually going to put on pj’s, climb into bed, and watch a movie. It’s been a long week.
As the three dots appear on the screen to indicate that he’s typing, I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned putting on my pajamas and climbing into bed in a work-related text with my boss. Those dots appear and disappear again, and my heartbeat accelerates as I try to figure out what that means. Finally, he responds.
Tom
Okay, but I’m taking you to breakfast before we start working tomorrow.
