I’d drifted off to sleep on the sofa when I heard the buzzer ring from downstairs. As I made my way to the intercom, I hoped my mother wasn’t standing in front of my building itching for round two of our earlier fight. Then I remembered that she had keys to my apartment, so she would have just let herself in and not bothered with the buzzer.
“Who’s there?” I asked into the speaker.
“It’s me,” Paul said.
Shit. I never expected Paul to show up at my front door. I wondered if my mother had convinced him to come or if he’d decided on his own. Avoiding his calls was one thing, but there was no way I’d turn him away if he was standing downstairs, mere steps from me. I adored him too much for that. I hit the buzzer to let him into the building and unlocked my front door.
I’d returned to my space on the sofa by the time Paul walked into my apartment. He was wearing a black T-shirt, jeans, and black sneakers and he looked exhausted.