Moonlight House (Book 2, Lonstino & Greenwood Series)

Chapter 11 - Crush

RORY

When I open my pack of cigarettes, I realize that I haven't smoked at all today. The first puff doesn't feel as comforting as it usually does. Has it always tasted like this? By now, all club goers have left the city center and the streets are empty. Tomorrow it will all go back to normal when people get up for their day jobs. Their party cravings won't begin until Wednesday, the middle of the week, a wish for the weekend to begin.

Adam did me the favor of bringing Imogen home after her shift ended. We even took care of having her leave through the kitchen door in case Duncan was lurking outside and saw her. I feel at peace knowing that she's alone in my apartment, but I don't want to risk anything while she's outside, even if it's a short walk. Imogen offered to stay until the club closed, but her face showed signs of fatigue. I know she's tough, but now she has someone else to think about.

I've always considered my apartment the place where I rest my head, but not one that I particularly look forward to. The idea that she's waiting for me there makes me feel differently and I notice that I walk faster than normal. I've had my share of live-in girlfriends, but this morning I had an awkward experience with Imogen that sort of felt like a dream come true at the same time. She came out of the bathroom wearing one of my t-shirts, which was quite tight on her breasts, and wore no pants. She laughed, covered her chest with her arms, and apologized for the skimpy outfit. She said that she really had to go to the bathroom, that it was a pregnancy thing, and wearing pants became second priority. I didn't know what to say, so I laughed along, but truthfully, it's how I always imagined life with her would be like.

When I get closer to the building, I put my cigarette out and pop a mint in my mouth. Erin has been begging me to quit smoking for years and today she told me to be mindful around Imogen. That not only cigarette smoke is harmful for the baby, but that pregnant women are sensitive to scents. How would I know that? It doesn't seem to have bothered Imogen in the past months when we only have a few feet of space between us behind the bar. But I will listen, try my best, and hopefully manage to stop. God knows I spend a fortune in the habit.

The moment I open the door I feel so surprised that I don't dare to take another step.

"Hey, Ro. How was it at the club?" Imogen asks from the couch without taking her eyes off the TV. When I don't answer, she turns to look at me. "Rory? Are you okay?"

"Where are the dust and the bottles?" I take a few steps after closing the door and gaze around the room while she laughs.

"Dust is gone and the bottles are in a box to bring to the recycling bin. TV sucked when I came here from the club and I didn't know what else to do. It's not like I can go into town and browse the stores until that dick gets arrested. So I cleaned and organized the place. I didn't go into your bedroom and calling you at the club to ask permission would have been stupid, so I'm sorry about not touching that one. Oh, and you need a new mop. What you have can't be called a mop. It's more like an ugly stick with a few hairs," she smirks.

I didn't know my apartment could smell like flowers. I didn't even know I had something in the cupboard under the sink to make it smell like this. The floor even looks new and I try to remember when was the last time I mopped. Now I don't even want to go into my bedroom, knowing that it isn't as clean as the rest. The couch is empty of magazines and the cushions are placed nicely. Did I have those already? My books are back in the bookcase and she even cleaned my ashtray. I feel so incredibly grateful that I grab her in a hug. She didn't have to do this. I just want her safe and happy. That would have been enough for me.

"Thank you so much, Imogen," I kiss her forehead and she gives me a sweet smile.

"You are welcome. It's the least that I can do for you for helping me, and well, the apartment needed a good dusting. I know you barely have time for yourself so I don't blame you. I would like to sit down with you tomorrow to figure my share of the living expenses. I'm not a freeloader."