You only want me as your friend, so why do you care if I have a date?
He takes the basket from me and sets it in the back. It seems like he’s trying to calm himself down. God, this man is complicated. I don’t get his psychology at all.
“You like bread,” he says, repeating my own words back at me and staring at me for the longest moment. I don’t know why, but I can’t look away. Finally, he breaks our staring competition.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nice,” he says.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
We go inside, taking the elevator up to the top floor. It turns out that Jessie lives in the penthouse. Her place is nothing like what I expected. First off, it’s huge, the kitchen and living room all open plan, with floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side of the room. The furniture is sleek and modern, with lots of hip, funky paintings hanging on the walls. A lot of arty nudes, too, all female.
“This place is amazing,” I say to Jay as he stands beside me. I’m all too aware of his hand softly touching my lower back. “How the hell can she afford this working in a casino?”
“She plays poker on and off. She does even better than I do most of the time. The winnings helped her to buy this place. There was a time when Jessie didn’t have a home. Her family cast her out, so owning somewhere that’s hers is a big deal.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback by his candour while imagining what Jay looks like playing poker. Not sure why I find the image appealing, but I do. “You didn’t have a home at one time, either. Is it a big deal for you, too?”
His gaze is meaningful. “More important than anything. But home for me isn’t about a roof and four walls — it’s about people. My real family is dead, so I’ve got to make my own.”
The way he says it makes something catch in my throat. Has he made his own yet? A strange feeling takes hold in my gut, because more than anything I’d like to be a part of that family, even if it is just as a friend.
Our moment is broken when Jessie comes up to us wearing her usual jeans and baggy T-shirt, with the addition of a party hat and a big birthday badge that reads 94.
“Happy birthday, Jess,” says Jay, handing her the present he brought and giving her a tight hug.
“Yeah,” I add, giving her my card and grinning. “Happy birthday. I had no idea you were so old.”
“The surgeons can work wonders these days,” she replies with a wink, looking between the two of us. “Glad you both are on speaking terms again.” She gives Jay a pat on the shoulder and then goes to greet more guests who have just arrived.
I turn to him. “You told her what happened?”
He cocks his eyebrow and gives me a challenging stare. “Like you didn’t tell Michelle.”
I’m not sure why, but I find his expression rather attractive, even if he is being argumentative. It’s kind of…sardonic and sexy.
I don’t say anything for a second, then grumble, “Fine.” I walk away from him, over to the window to join Michelle and Owen, who are getting along quite well. We all get some drinks and go to sit out on the balcony, which is huge and goes around the entire corner of the building. I have to admire Jessie for being so determined to have a place she can call her own.
When I was little, before Mum died, we used to live in a wonderful old house on a patch of land just outside the city. It was where my mother grew up, and there was so much love put into it. I like our house now just fine, but there was something about that old place. It was special. Close to the life of the city but with the tranquillity of the countryside.
It was home.
It was the happiest place on earth until all the bad luck came. It felt like all of a sudden a dark cloud had descended, blocking out the sun. We used to have these neighbours; they had two sons who I played with almost every day. One was my age and the other a little older. I can hardly remember what those two boys looked like anymore; they’re just a hazy memory. I was only a kid, but my latest obsession had been motherhood, so I used to pretend they were my babies and I’d take care of them, making them food and giving them toys to play with.
I was a little weird.
Anyway, long story short. Their house caught fire one night, and the family didn’t survive; only the older boy did. Then he went away, probably to live with relatives or a foster family. It was so long ago that I can’t remember.
After that the dark cloud moved to our house. The burglars broke in and killed Mum, beat up Dad, and gave me a scar I’d never get rid of. Soon after, Dad sold the house. It’s not even there anymore. Now there’s a swanky five-star hotel where my dream home used to be.