19 Bromance

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“Good evening, Mr. Ashton, Mr. Ashton,” Jim greets us from behind his desk as we walk, hand in hand, into our building.

Smiling, I nod my head, “Evening, Jim. I told you to call me Day and you can call him Topher. I don’t want to have to figure out which one of us you’re talking to.”

“Very well,” he acknowledges as he opens a drawer. When his hands come back into view, he’s holding a white letter-sized envelope. “This came for you today, Mr. Ashton.”

Shaking my head in amusement, I look over at my husband, “Probably you.”

“No sir, It’s addressed to a Mr. Damian Moore-Hill,” Jim holds the paper out to me.

“Why isn’t it in the letterbox?” I ask a little suspiciously as I make my way over to him.

Like the magnet he is, Chris moves with me, “Did this get sent by messenger?”

“No sirs, a business man in a grey suit came to drop it off,” he explains politely.

My stomach drops instantly as I take the piece of parcel, “Could you tell us what the business man looked like?”

Jim looks uncomfortable as he takes a step back, “He wasn’t a tall man; probably about the same height as you, Mr. Ashton.”

“Could you please use our first names?” My husband grows a little louder, his voice etched with irritation. “This is important.”

“Yes sir, I mean, Mr. Topher. He was about the same height as Mr. Damon. In fact, he looked a lot like Mr. Damon, except older with blue eyes,” a thoughtful look passes our doorman’s face. You could see when the realization hits him, “He was your father. I didn’t really make the connection because your accent; he didn’t have one. But now that I think about it, it makes sense given what he said.”

I could feel myself start to shake as Chris’ arm snakes around my waist. My voice is meek when I try to speak, “What did he say?”

“He said ‘Tell my boy that I’ll be seeing him soon.’ But that was it. He just turned around and left,” Jim shrugs nonchalantly.

“If that guy comes back, don’t let him in. In fact,” Toph’s voice become murderous, “if he comes back here, you call the damn police.”

Turning to press my palm on his chest, I press my lips lightly to his cheek, “No need to get mad at Jim. It’s not his fault.” Leaning back into my husband, I sigh, “Thank you, Jim. But he’s right; please do not let that man upstairs. No need for the police.”

“Yes sir, understood sir. Is there anything else I can do for you two tonight?”

Shaking my head, I add, “No visitors.”

I grab my best friend’s hand as we walk to the lift.

Once we’re inside, he pushes me against the wall and presses his lips hungrily to mine. With his hands on my hips, the blonde-haired blue-eyed every-woman’s-fantasy pins me with his body. Keeping my eyes open, I study his face.

His eyes are tightly closed as if he’s straining to keep them that way. His eyebrows pushed together in concentration. I can tell he’s worried, but I’m almost positive there’s nothing I can do about it.

Pushing on him slightly, I manage to unlatch our lips, but he only rests his forehead against mine.

His eyes are still closed, but not as tightly, when I start to speak, “We’re going to be alright.”

“I’m coming with you to Los Angeles,” he tells me as he opens his eyes and takes a step back. His hands still on my hips as he continues, “What if he finds out your there and tries to follow you and I’m not there. How am I going to protect you if I’m not by your side? I’ll just go with you.”

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