We sat in silence for a while, sipping coffee and listening to the chill tunes trickling through the speakers.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” I said at last. “Drixie owns the sofa, and she’s not sharing. She’ll act all disappointed no matter who sits on it. I get hissed at on a regular basis. It’s not you.”
Another secret I’d been keeping close to my heart? I didn’t trust men, even if they looked like knights in shining armour. Mr Umbrella was an intruding thought—wishful thinking, perhaps—but the way we met hit a bit too close to my most humiliating day ever. I would never be able to look past that.?
Stainless shirts are no good
IDROVE THE VAN BACK?to my parents’ house after Glen and I managed to unload the rest of my things. She was still on the fence about Drixie, but that didn’t stop me from urging the cat into a carrier bag. She resisted, of course, and attempted to hide from me, but even the trepidation of the carrier and what it stood for couldn’t keep her hiding for long when I opened a can of tuna.
Her soft paws tattered right over and into the carrier when the scent of fish got too tempting to resist. I locked her in with the treat. By the time she realised her misfortune, all she could do was give me a betrayed yowl. She stomped around the small space, rubbing against the net in the hope I’d feel pity for her. She’d learn quick enough that that wasn’t going to happen.
Before I left my childhood home behind, I wrote a note on the fridge: “All settled in. Thanks for the van. -H.” I dropped the keys on a hallway cupboard where they were impossible to miss, slipped on my shoes, and grabbed Drixie’s carrier bag. She protested one more time before she settled down in defeat. What she didn’t want to admit was how much she actually enjoyed seeing the world behind the window. Since I’d given away the car keys we’d need to take the bus, and Drixie could observe more of the city... through the windows of various public transportation vehicles. I was quite done by the time I reached the mansion block I should start calling home.
Want to guess who else was done with wherever he’d rushed to after the last time I saw him? Mr Umbrella, of course.
The bus stopped just behind the mansion block, giving me a view of the almost full car park. It was impossible to miss the man stepping out of a Toyota, possibly the very same car that’d picked him up when it was raining, and pat the roof of it the way only men do. He laughed, with his head dropping back, then shook his head, replying something to the driver before he swung the door shut and the car took off.
It’d be fine, I told myself. If I walked slowly he’d be in the lift before I reached the front door, right? Wrong. Since I had a clear view of him through the parked cars, he also had a clear view of me. As if feeling my stare, his gaze landed on me, and I swear I could see his eyes sparkle even from this distance.
His hand came up to cup around his lips as he shouted, “Hey, Red Cheeks!” His other hand waved me over with a wide, almost theatrical arch.
There was no avoiding him after this. Even several passersby stopped to observe my stumbling walk toward the man who was content to wait in the middle of the car park.
Grinning from ear to ear, he crouched to peer through the netting of the carrier bag. “Look at who’s with you. Hello, Drixie,” he cooed, tapping at the bag softly and pulling away just as she gave him an annoyed frown. Straightening, Mr Umbrella asked, “So you got it sorted, hmm?”
I bit the inside of my cheek as one of my feet did awkward circles on the asphalt. His eyes burned right through me, the intensity leaving my mind blank, and my heart racing. It was just a look. Just a look, nothing more. And an innocent question, really.Snap out of it, Haylee.
I nodded, then shrugged, forcing my feet to still and not start a tap-dance at the tension building within my body. “Sort of? You could say that. I mean, yeah.”
Mr Umbrella laughed. “Sounds like a no to me.”
I studied him with interest. Men I’d gone out with rarely knew what ‘no’ meant even when said outright. My stuttering just now would have been misinterpreted for sure. Somehow, Mr Umbrella had learned to speak the universal language of women, and while I didn’t mean to be impressed by this one simple comment he’d made, I couldn’t stop wondering what else he knew.
The moment he caught me looking, I dropped my gaze to our feet and started fidgeting again. Devil’s nuts, his attentiveness was nerve-wracking.
“Hmm...” Mr Umbrella hummed, and his dress shoes took a step closer to my trainers. “We’ve learned that I’m not a mathematician, and neither are you. It’s my turn to guess, are you an artist?”
