red herring [h.s.]

54. (*)

Stella.

"Thank you." I smiled at the driver who accepted Harry's money and also assisted me in carrying out my bags into the lobby of my apartment building.

Not many cab drivers in New York were this friendly, but he shot me a nice smile and wished me a good evening. With much effort, I hauled everything into the elevator in one go, not having Jimmy here to help me at this hour of the evening. I wasn't close enough to any of my neighbours to ask them for help and I had yet to call Erin or Logan. My phone was as dead as could be.

My hand trembled when I pushed my key into the lock, my heart was in my throat as my hand pushed against the door to open it. It did so with the familiar squeak and my hand blindly reached for the light switch next to the door. With a small flicker, the apartment was lit up in a yellow hue and I stood in the doorway.

I didn't know what I expected. Maybe I expected it to look exactly as I had left it, including the pile of used tissues on the coffee table from my many breakdowns that night everything crashed down. Maybe I expected it to be a mess after Matt's men came in here to pack up my stuff for our month away.

My eyes darted over the apartment, seeing it near spotless. Sure there was some dust everywhere just from the fact that no one had been here all month, but other than that, it was clean. There weren't articles of clothing strew around the floor, the bed was made, there weren't dirty dishes in the sink.

Had Harry given them the order to clean?

I sighed and pushed my bags inside, using my feet to kick forward some of the bags until I was inside. I didn't know why I felt so frozen upon being back here. Everything looked the same, but nothing felt the same. Maybe I was in my head too much.

With the shark plushie underneath my arm, I leaned against the closed door behind me. I often wondered if Jeremy would've liked this apartment that I chose for myself. I used to live in a much too expensive one upon first moving to New York. I had no idea about prices and real estate back then so I got lured into one of those brand new deals that I ended up hating after a few weeks of actually living there.

I did hold out nearly a year though until Jeremy suggested moving in together. I let him pick the apartment since he was so invested in it, and he ended up guiding me through a few characteristic brownstones in various parts of the city. We settled on a beautiful apartment in Brooklyn which held so much personality. And most importantly, he was there and I knew that it was secretly the reason I loved it and why it felt like a home.

When he died, I couldn't get out of there quickly enough. Sometimes I regretted not staying around for longer and giving my grief a space in that very apartment. Maybe I could've grown to love it again on my own. But I bolted just a few days after he passed and the thought that someone else lived there now, gnawed at me. I couldn't stand to be there any longer, seeing all that was his. His clothes, shower products, the sheets that he picked, the dresser that he felt like he made a great deal for in the second hand shop where we got so much of our furniture.

I sold most of it upon moving, except for the couch. My eyes landed on the old couch and I could almost see him laying on it. With one of the funky pillows underneath his head and his feet falling over the edge because he was so tall, he'd make himself comfortable on it. It was usually the position I found him in when I got back from work, and he then grabbed my wrist to pull me on top of him and we cuddled like that for a bit while I talked about my day.

He was always so interested in whatever I did even if I thought it was the most boring stuff ever. I'd lie on top of him on the couch with my face in the crook of his neck while his fingers would play with my hair or create some fancy braid that would get it all tangled.