Page 15 of The Deadbeat DILF
“Robert,” I said. “His name is Robert.”
“Robert,” Emilia replied with a nod. “See it from Robert’s point of view. He’s living in close quarters with a beautiful young woman. What if he—”
I cut her off. “It’s not like that. I understand your concern, but trust me, he doesn’t see me like that. He’s never given any indication that he’s attracted to me.”
As soon as I said the words, I realized how true it was. He’d been nothing but friendly. And to my horror, I felt a little…disappointed?
What was wrong with me? I was being silly.
“I’ll be careful. Everything will be fine,” I assured them.
They gave me a small smile.
“If you say so,” Alison said.
I finished off the rest of my mimosa and tapped the side of the empty glass with my forefinger. “I think we all need another round, though,” I said, ready to change the subject.
They murmured in agreement, and so I flagged down the waitress for another round of drinks.
The topic of conversation shifted, and Emilia talked about an upcoming event she was attending. She’d borrowed a light pink dress from me a few days earlier, since the theme of the event was pastel colors.
As Emilia and Alison discussed accessories and makeup, I pushed our earlier conversation to the back of my mind. I understood why my friends were worried, but everything would be fine.
There’d be no drama and no conflict. Just smooth sailing.
CHAPTER SIX
Exhaustion weighed on my shoulders as I dragged myself home after a long Monday at the firm. My eyes ached from reading dozens of pages of case documents, competing with my hungry stomach and heavy head for which part of my body felt the most uncomfortable.
In a tired daze, I unlocked my front door and stepped inside, only to freeze at the sound of thumping and clinking from the kitchen. My heart rate spiked as I gripped the doorknob. Did someone break in?
Then, I heard humming. Low, deep humming that seemed to float through my entire apartment, accompanied by a rich, savory smell.
Of course, I thought, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. It was Robert.
“I’m home!” I called as I set down my keys and kicked off my work heels.
Robert poked his head out of the kitchen. The sleeves of his olive-green long-sleeve shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and I couldn’t help but notice how his black joggers hung low on his waist.
“Just in time. Lasagna is ready,” Robert said with a warm smile.
“From scratch?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“It smells delicious,” I said. My stomach ached because now I was even hungrier. “Do you need help?”
“Nah, just sit down, relax, and I’ll get it plated.”
“Okay,” I said with a smile. I dropped my bag in my room, changed into comfy at-home clothes, then returned to the living area. I sat at the dining table, watching him move around the kitchen.
“I’m starving. I missed lunch because I got hit with a big case,” I said.
“Yeah? What happened?”
I gave him the rundown. I didn’t want to violate any confidentiality agreements, so I explained the case in vague terms while keeping a cautious eye out for signs of boredom. I knew law wasn’t the most exciting topic. My family never wanted to hear about work—they thought I was bragging—and past boyfriends had found it boring. But even though Robert’s attention was split between me and cutting up the lasagna, I could tell he was listening. He asked questions and hummed thoughtfully to show he was engaged.
“So, you have to argue that the contract doesn’t count? Did I get that right?”
