“Whatever you like,” I said.
She smiled at me again, and I pulled the coffee table back into position. She reached out carefully, grabbing her phone on the first try.
“I have to say, you’re getting pretty good at this,” I said.
“Everyone has to have goals,” she smirked.
Reaching into the little drawer of the table, she pulled out her headphones. Then she stretched out on the far end of the couch as she seemed to fall into whatever she was listening to.
I got up for a moment to grab my laptop, then settled at the other end, giving her foot a tap so that she knew I was parked.
It was great that I was able to catch up on a few hours of work, but I was a bit distracted, glancing at Kayla every few minutes. She was unbelievably pretty, with a delicate face that made me think of a porcelain doll.
I’d only seen one photo of her in the apartment, on the fridge. Kayla was with a tan blonde girl in a park. They were both turned away, looking at something and laughing. Kayla’s hair was over her right eye, so I couldn’t see how far out of alignment it had been. Her left eye was shadowed by her hand, so I could barely make it out.
I didn’t mean to be nosy, of course, but any photo posted on someone’s fridge was probably fair game to be examined.
After a while, Kayla took off her headphones. “How is your work going?” she asked.
“I’m at a particularly boring part,” I said, “So I would appreciate any and all distractions if you don’t mind.”
Her nose crinkled when she smiled at me.
“What are you listening to?” I asked.
“It’s a biography from one of Picasso’s longtime girlfriends. So it’s a mix of art history, and finding out what a crazy ass he was sometimes.”
“I’ve read that he was pretty full of himself,” I said.
She nodded.”Yeah. And he certainly put his career above his partner’s.”
“That’s pretty lousy,” I said. “What did she do?”
“She was a painter too.”
“But he was the famous one, so he called all the shots?”
“Yes, pretty much.”
“Well then. He was an ass,” I agreed.
She turned to me with a strange expression, and I wished for the millionth time that I could see her eyes. “So you think that a couple should share the energy and resources fifty-fifty?”
“Absolutely. I mean, life is often crazy, and it might not work out perfectly every single day. But overall it should even out and be balanced. Like when Gwen did far more of the cooking and cleaning when I had exams, then I did the same for her when she was in school. We were roommates for a few years.”
“Wow,” she said softly. “So you’re a real, modern man.”
“I’m shrugging,” I said, making her smile. “If modern men want a clean home and good food, they should pitch in and do half of the work. Maybe Gwen has been a bit of a hard ass, but I’ve never looked at men and women as anything but equal.” I paused. “Except for the whole upper body strength thing. And the way women are infinitely better at multitasking and small details. Equal but different, you know what I mean.”
Her soft little smile as she nodded made me need to hold her again, but I tried to put that out of my mind.
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I hated the thought of leaving her alone, even though she assured me that she always had her phone nearby, and promised to call me if she needed anything.
“I also have neighbors,” she said. “Mrs. Henderson is close by, and there’s a couple of college guys down the hall who seemed nice.”
I was almost glad that she couldn’t see the obvious flash of jealousy that ran through me at the thought of strange men helping her. I had no right to feel so possessive, yet I couldn’t help it.
“Sweet dreams,” I said, needing to hug her but settling for patting her on the shoulder.