I came back, plopped my ass down in the comfy leather chair behind my desk, and started talking to him about a shipment of watches bound for San Francisco.
When he didn’t huff out an acknowledgment, I finally turned to find his office empty.
It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that he sent me a text message telling me that he had gone home to work.
I have to go up to the penthouse to pretend to be his wife, but I need another minute as my alter ego Trina Shaw before I do that.
“Mrs. Locke?”
Hearing that stops me so abruptly that the person behind me runs into the back of me.
She doesn’t apologize. All I get from her is a sneer as she rounds me and continues her trek down the crowded sidewalk.
“Mrs. Locke, over here.”
I search the faces that pass me, wondering who the hell knows that I’m married to Graham.
When I see the doorman with his arm raised in the air, I sigh.
I wave back at him. “Hey.”
I’ve never had a doorman, so I have zero understanding of how to greet one properly. I assume that I’m supposed to put some money in his hand when he does open the door for me.
I lucked out yesterday when I arrived with my suitcase. I snuck in after another tenant. This morning, there wasn’t a doorman in sight when I left to go to work.
“Are you lost?” he asks with a tilt of his head.
The answer to that is too complicated to get into with him, so I shake my head.
“You’ve passed the building three times in the past fifteen minutes,” he points out.
Considering the fact that I’m wearing heels, that’s impressive.
I’ve never joined a gym. My workouts have always consisted of strolling around the city and doing lunges in my living room. When I feel inclined to lift weights, I go to Brooklyn since my sister, Clara, keeps five-pound hand weights in the kitchen of the bakery.
I fit in a sisterly visit and an arm workout all at once.
“I do my best thinking on my walk to work,” he admits. “I sense you’ve got a lot on your mind.”
He has no idea.
A million thoughts are racing through my head, including the way Graham kissed me last night.
I was going to bring it up at work, but it felt out of place.
Now, I’m not sure I should mention it at all. He was playing the part of the devoted husband. I’m not an expert on kissing, but to me, it was an Oscar-worthy performance.
I drop my gaze to the doorman’s nametag. “I was getting my steps in for the day, Eugene.”
He looks at my wrist. “Do you have one of those fancy watches that count steps, heart rate, and calories?”
If I did, I’d never look at it.
Simple is best in my world.
I take as many steps as I need to get where I’m going. My heart rate has only spiked recently when I’ve been near my husband. As for calories, I eat as healthy as I can, except for when I go to Brooklyn.
I can’t walk out of the bakery without sampling something. That’s tradition.
“I don’t.” I turn my arm to show him the Abdons watch on my wrist.
I found it at a vintage store called Past Over years ago. I didn’t realize what a true treasure it was until I started working for Mr. Locke.
He pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to show me a watch with a black leather band. “Me either.”
I note the time on his watch and realize that if I’m going to cook dinner again, I need to get upstairs.
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” Eugene offers.
I loop my hand around his offered elbow. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Locke.”
I know this will cost me a dollar or two, but I stroll through the lobby next to him, feeling slightly less lost than I did ten minutes ago.
I step off of the elevator to find my husband and Lloyd standing side-by-side.
Graham has lost the tie and jacket he had on at the office. The button-down shirt he’s wearing is open at the collar. His shirtsleeves are still held in place by cufflinks, so I’m not going to get the bonus treat of a view of his bare arms today.
I take a second to wonder whether the tattoo on his forearm is the only one he has.
I’ll never find out.
“Trina!” Mr. Abdon comes at me with his arms outstretched. “I was getting worried.”
My gaze drifts to Graham as I let Lloyd take me in a hug.
My boss doesn’t look like a man who is concerned about his tardy spouse. He’s sporting his signature ‘what the fuck?’ look.
I didn’t realize I had a curfew.
I pull back from Lloyd. “I’ll get started on dinner.”
I arranged for a grocery delivery less than an hour ago. I decided we’d eat salmon tonight with rice pilaf and steamed broccoli.