Michaela
Showing up a fewdays later at Mo’s place without letting him know I was coming wasn’t a test. Not really. At least that was what I told myself. I only wanted to see what his life was like when he didn’t shine it all up to make it pretty for me.
Since his building was secure, I had to text when I was on the sidewalk outside of it.
I’m in the neighborhood, thought I’d pop in.
A minute later, he replied.
Moses:What? Are you here?
Me:Downstairs.
Moses:I’m coming. Don’t move.
I waited under the awning of his building, wondering if other celebrities lived here. I noticed a few guys with expensive-looking cameras camped out in the cafe directly across the street. I had a hard time believing they were here strictly for Mo, although I was sure they’d gladly take and sell his pictures if they could get them.
Which made me realize how stupid I was to show up here without planning it. Hopefully I could get inside without them seeing who came down to greet me. The last thing I wanted was for my picture to show up on gossip sites. I’d had enough of that with my ex and had no desire for a replay.
The grand door swung outward, a white-gloved doorman holding it open for me. “Mr. Aronson would like you to meet him inside, please.”
The lobby of his building was modern, with a few low-slung couches and chairs, bright walls, and subdued artwork. A massive, chrome and glass light fixture hung from the ceiling as the centerpiece of it all.
Mo leaned against the wall by the elevators, watching me take everything in. I walked up to him, and when I was close enough, his hands landed on my hips, pulling me even closer.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he said.
I braced myself on his chest. “What a coincidence. I saw this building and decided to pop in to check it out. And what do you know, here you are.”
He stood straight and dipped down to kiss my cheek. I smelled alcohol on his breath, but I leaned into his lips anyway.
“I have a few people over. I can kick them out if you want,” he said.
I looked up at him. “Why would I want that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe you want some alone time with your husband.”
“Moses,” I sighed. “I want to spend time with my friend. I’m okay spending time with my friend’s friends too.”
“All right.” He gave me a lazy once over, then pressed the up button on the elevator. His hand went around mine, twining our fingers together, and I didn’t protest. “You look good, Mic.”
“You look drunk, Mo.”
“Yeah, well, I had a couple drinks. If you would have told me you were coming by, I’d have refrained.”
Inside the elevator, Mo pulled me into a hug, burying his face in my hair. “You feel as good as you look.”
I melted into him, into the hug. We had become friends who hugged, and I liked that for us. Our kid should see its mom and dad being affectionate and friendly.
“You do too,” I murmured.
He looked down at me. “I think that’s the first time you admitted anything positive about me.”
“That can’t be true.” Was it?
The elevator doors slid open, and my stomach jumped with nerves. I had no idea what I was walking into. When my feet dragged, Mo took my hand again and pulled me along.
He let me into his apartment, and I was relieved to see there wasn’t a rager going on, but there were at least twenty people hanging out. Music played, glasses and bottles clinked, and a faint smell of weed hung in the air.