Maid for Each Other(50)

“So you can literally lie down with a blankie and go night-night until you land in New York?” she asked incredulously.

“Well, I could, but I’m not tired,” I said.

“If I was given a comfy bed on a plane I would absolutely sleep.”

“I can see that about you,” I said, wondering if she knew just how filthy her glasses were. “I really should go now, but I just thought you’d want to see it.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” she said, moving her face a little closer to the phone. “Seriously. I can’t believe you called just so I could see. That’s really nice.”

“I was bored,” I lied.

“Well, thank you,” she said with a grin. “You just keep surprising me with the fact that you aren’t always a jackass.”

“Oh, I am. I just have moments of decency.”

“Well, I’m thrilled to have witnessed one of those moments.”

I didn’t mean to, but I thought about Abi on the entire flight to New York.

And I came to the unexpected conclusion that when I was ready to actually jump into dating, I might want to consider looking outside my existing social circles. Abi was so smart and real and funny, so different from the last few people I’d gone out with, and the thing I liked most about her was that she was fun.

Fun.

I hadn’t had fun with anybody in a very long time.

After I got into the SUV that would take me to my condo, I sent her a text that simply said: landed.

I was unsure if she’d respond because we were officially done with our collaboration, but she replied with: You’re probably busy working on your phone or computer, but if not and you’re bored, you should FaceTime me.

I texted: Miss me already?

Abi: You wish. I just want you to turn the camera around so I can live in New York City vicariously through you.

I didn’t respond but just hit the FaceTime button.

“Yay,” she said when she answered, and the way she grinned at me made it impossible for me to not smile, too. She’d obviously just taken a shower, because her hair was damp and wavy and she was wearing those stupid pajamas with her face on them again. “You have no idea how excited I am.”

“Well, I live to excite you,” I said, feeling a little safer about teasing her now that we weren’t together with that in-person chemistry buzzing between us.

“Okay, so show me the city,” she said.

I held my phone up to the window and pointed out where we were as the driver headed in the direction of my apartment.

“Are you in a taxi?” she asked.

“No, I have a driver.”

“Ooh, you have a driver. Like there is literally someone on your payroll whose job is just to chauffeur you around?”

“That’s the actual job description of a chauffeur, but he isn’t just mine. He’s been the driver for my family and CrashPad employees for years.”

“Not Hathaway?”

“No, Leonard started working for Nana Marian back in the day, and he’s been exclusive to our family since then.”

“Does he open doors for you?”

“No, I know how to open a door,” I said.

“Does he give you sage advice while looking at you through the rearview mirror?” she asked.

“Quit being a dumbass,” I said.

“Is it weird that the second you held up your phone and showed me a random New York City street, ‘Empire State of Mind’ by Jay-Z featuring Alicia Keys started going through my head?”

“Somehow this does not surprise me about you,” I said, but the truth was that everything about her surprised me. She was so different from the people in my life. She chattered like that through the entire drive to my place, which was a lot more entertaining than reading email or staring out the window and barely noticing these familiar sights that were new and magical in her eyes.

When I finally reached my place, Abi squealed over the fact that it was in SoHo, that I had a doorman, at the shiny silver walls of the elevator, and the music I’d never noticed that was coming from the speakers.

Abi seemed to love everything about my place.

It was fascinating, seeing my life through someone else’s eyes.

I loved New York and this apartment—it’d always been one of my favorite places—but Abi’s enthusiasm was next level.

“Okay, so I need the entire tour,” she said as soon as I unlocked my front door. “And you can’t just say this is my apartment and leave it at that. I want to see everything.”

“Creeper,” I muttered as I dropped my keys on the entry table.

“No.” She laughed. “It’s not because I’m a creeper and want to see where you sleep, it’s because I want to feel like I’m there.”

“Like a creeper.”

“Again, not because I’m a creeper but because I want to live vicariously through you.”

“Still a creeper,” I said pointedly, but paused and gave her a wink. “But I’ll allow it for my biggest fan.” I slipped off my shoes and started walking farther into my apartment.

“How gracious,” she said, deadpan.

“This is my apartment,” I said, turning in a slow circle so she could see it all.