"I'm changing the subject before you really do bolt. Because, as much as I love your apartment, I'd rather keep you." I lifted my glass. "And thus ends our drunken sentimental exchange. So, the floor..."
"...is uncomfortable, and I would agree. I would also agree that I require comfortable permanent seating to take full advantage of the window view. Which I did intend to buy. I never got as far as walking into a furniture store. Once I was moved in, new furniture seemed..."
"Frivolous?"
"Exactly."
"I would point out that, given that no one actually comes here, the only person to judge you for such frivolity is yourself, but I know that's the opinion that counts. We will get you proper window-side seating."
His lips twitched in a smile. "And a fireplace?"
"Yes." I turned toward him. "On that topic, since I've passed the slightly drunk stage--and since you've given me permission to push--I'm going to ask a personal question."
"God forbid," he said, and then gave me a smile, as warm and relaxed as his earlier one.
"It's about fireplaces. Namely, the one in your office. Have you ever used it?"
"That's personal?"
"Sometimes, with you, I think 'Would you like fries with that?' is too personal."
He leaned back against the sofa, getting comfortable again. "To be honest, I've always found that question rather insulting. If I wanted fries, I would order them. The answer, by the way, is no. I do not--ever--want fries with that."
"Good to know."
"As for the fireplace, the answer is again no. I have never used it, and not because I don't want to. It's like window seating. I intended to take advantage of it and haven't."
"Was the office what you wanted, then? Or did you just get a good deal on it?"
Another twitch of the lips. "Had you asked me that six months ago, I'd have said I got a good deal. Which I did. Also, the proximity to the county jail is a distinct advantage. And that is what I told myself when I first leased it. But the truth?"
He eased down further, stretched out. "The truth is that the style reminded me of Rose's house, and there was comfort there. It also reminded me of the house I told you about, the one I dreamed of owning someday. I was, therefore, pre-inclined to appreciate a building of that era. And yet..." His lips pursed. "I walked into that office, and it was like something out of a novel, and somewhere in my head there was an image of what a lawyer's office should look like. I wanted that office, as I've wanted few things in my life. Although I did lease it at a very good price, given that the basement was being used as a meth lab."
"What?"
"I never told you that part?"
"Um, no. But you will now, right?"
"The man who originally owned the building was a former client who...allegedly ran a meth lab out of the basement. I used the main floor for my office on the condition I'd never come in past nightfall or before dawn and would provide free legal advice. After two years of this, if I wished to purchase the building, I could, at a very reasonable price, so he could relocate without the undue attention that might come with a normal resale."
"You own the building?"
"Did I not mention that?"
"You mention nothing, Gabriel. Ever. Okay, forget owning the whole damned building. Tell me about the meth-lab dude."
"He actually made an excellent landlord. All went perfectly fine until the day..."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I woke smelling something and leapt up swinging. Gabriel didn't miss a beat, just pulled the coffee out of striking range and waited patiently while I rubbed my eyes.
"You are sleeping on my floor," he said. "I would have moved you, but I fell asleep myself. And yes, the floor is terribly uncomfortable. But...coffee?"
He held it out again, and I sputtered a laugh.
"No comment on the fact that I nearly punched you?" I said.