“This is my place. You can put your stuff over here.” Cat waves an arm at the living room. “And you can crash on the sofa tonight.” She looks at me, a smile flitting over her lips before her eyes flick back to the front door.
“Oh, thank you. Are you sure—”
“Of course. Emily told me what happened. Look, I’ve got to run back to the shop.” She steps into the kitchen and rummages in a drawer. “Here’s a spare key.” She thrusts a silver key into my hand and strides back to the front door. “I’ll be home later.”
“Thank you so much. It’s been awful,” I start again, but she just flaps her hand.
“Sorry, I can’t chat. Gotta run.” And with that, she pulls the door shut behind her. I jump as it almost slams, the pug narrowly escaping through the gap.
I stare at the back of the door, feeling unease creep up my spine. I’m certainly glad not to be spending my first night on the street, but given that Cat doesn’t seem to want a house guest, I’m not sure it’s going to be much more comfortable here.
With a sigh, I tuck my suitcases into a corner of the living room and collapse onto the sofa, wanting nothing more than to sleep. The jetlag and stress from the morning have combined into a powerful cocktail of exhaustion. Despite the midday light coming in through the windows, my eyelids grow heavy and I drift off.
I’m not sure how long I sleep for, but when I wake it’s still light outside. I prop myself up on my elbows, letting my eyes wander around Cat’s apartment, taking it in properly for the first time. It’s nice: bright white walls through the open living room and kitchen, with a breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the living space. Two windows in the living room let in light, both covered with sheer white curtains. I’m lying on a big, red sofa and there’s a matching recliner chair, both facing a small television and a low wooden coffee table, strewn with bits of fabric and fashion magazines. Off to the left side of the living room is a partition-wall, creating a small alcove area with a sewing machine, a few bolts of fabric and a mannequin.
I pull myself up to sitting and glance down at the coffee stain on my dress. The whole horrible ordeal comes screaming back to me and I cringe, picturing the coffee soaking into the shirt of that businessman. I feel bad, but I hope he doesn’t actually expect me to buy him a new shirt. It could bankrupt me.
“Hey.”
I spin around to see Cat entering the apartment and my body goes rigid. “Hey,” I say warily.
“I got takeout.” She smiles and holds up a couple of containers of food; the kind of Chinese takeout boxes I’ve seen on TV.
I eye the food, wondering if I’m better off heading out instead. She must be able to sense my hesitation, because she sets the food down on the counter with a grimace.
“Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I know I was kind of a bitch.”
I give an uneven laugh. “No, you—”
“I was, and I’m sorry.”
She grabs some forks and flops down on the sofa, holding one out to me. I take it gratefully, reaching for some food. I didn’t realize until now, but my stomach is growling.
“I had to deal with my ex at the store and he’s such a jerk. It was the worst day.” Cat shovels a fork-load of fried rice into her mouth, chewing absently, then swallows and turns to me wide-eyed. “Fuck, sorry. Obviously your day was much worse because of your apartment and everything. Listen to me rambling on after what you’ve been through.” She rubs her forehead with the back of her hand, then looks at me earnestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you the warmest welcome, I was just preoccupied with my own shit. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“It’s okay.” I smile, feeling the last of the tension drain from my body. “I’m so grateful that you came to my rescue. I know it was out of the blue but you totally saved me.”
“Happy to help.” She pushes to her feet and heads to the kitchen, pulling some wine out of the fridge. “You want a glass?”
I nod vigorously. After the day I’ve had, I could use a bottle.
“So, you have a store?” I ask, taking a glass from her as she sits again.
“Yeah, in the East Village. I sell vintage clothes and some of my own bits and pieces I design.”
“Oh, that’s so cool.” I take a long sip of my wine. “Your ex… did you guys break up recently?”
“No, we got divorced three and a half years ago. But he’s in real estate and he manages the lease on the shop. So he uses that as an excuse to hang around.” She rolls her eyes, reaching for a wonton. “He managed the lease on this apartment and got us a great deal, otherwise I’d never be able to afford to live around here. When I found him cheating I managed to get it in the divorce, and he’s been pissed off ever since.” She shakes her head, then focuses her attention on me. Her brown eyes sparkle and there’s a dusting of freckles across her button nose. “Anyway, enough about me. Why are you in New York? Emily said you moved here.”
“Oh, well… I went through a breakup a couple of weeks ago.”
Cat nods, her expression intense. “Aren’t men just the worst?”
“Yeah.” I give a humorless laugh. “I guess I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t.” I feel a little pang as I think of Travis, and quickly shake it off.
“Maybe you’ll meet someone new over here.”
“Maybe,” I murmur, trying to ignore the
