“Holy shit, Ethan,” Margot sputters, bouncing a little in her seat. “Are you serious?!”
I nod. “Yes, but we have to keep it quiet for a little longer. The board still needs to take a final vote on it.”
“Of course,” she says, still beaming.
With that big smile on her face, there’s no way I can regret telling her about the promotion a little prematurely. It’s in the bag. Every member of the board has expressed their support. Allthat’s left is the final vote, which will take place in less than two weeks.
Redirecting my attention back to her phone, I sort the list she made from high to low. The top pick is now a spacious one bedroom in a nice part of town. The rent is much higher than the sketchy Globeville apartment, but still modest considering the enormous pay raise she’s about to get. And selfishly, I’m already excited about the location, which is only a couple of miles from my house. Even if I’m not ready to take the next step yet and move in together, I like the idea of Margot living nearby.
“Do you want to go see this one next?” I ask, handing the phone back to her.
Margot glances down at it and smiles. “Let’s go.”
***
The Whitmore is nothing like the roach-infested apartment complex that we just visited. It’s a brand-new mid-rise building, modern but classic in a distinctly Denver way. It’s a sleek but cozy mix of red brick accents and big glass windows overlooking a large park.
When we step into the lobby, a thirty-something brunette greets us with a smile. She rises from her desk and crosses the room to introduce herself with a firm handshake.
Her eyes linger on me a second too long then she asks, “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I don’t think so,” I reply, firm and dismissive.
We already ran into one old fling this weekend. The last thing I need is Margot thinking Denver is just one endless highlight reel of my one-night stands. I’m confident that I don’t recognize the woman standing in front of me right now, and absolutely certain that we never went on a date, much less slept together.
The woman nods in acknowledgement, but her eyes continue searching my face for several long, uncomfortable beats.
“We’re looking for a one-bedroom apartment,” I say, redirecting the conversation. “Do you have one available to tour?”
Finally, the woman snaps out of it. She clears her throat and flashes a rehearsed smile. “I have an amazing unit to show you,” she gushes, glancing between Margot and me. “It’s a fourth-floor unit with great views of the park. I’ll just need both of your IDs to hold while we tour the apartment.”
We both fish our driver’s licenses out and hand them to the leasing agent.
“Great,” she says, a little too cheery. “Let me just go lock these up in my office and grab the keys to the apartment. I’ll be back in a second.”
The woman trots off toward an office at the back of the lobby.
“Another ex of yours?” Margot asks under her breath. Her tone is light but brittle around the edges.
I turn to face her. “I’ve never met that woman before in my life. She must be mistaking me for someone else.”
Margot studies my face for a second then nods as if she’s satisfied by my response. Still, there’s a hint of tension in her expression that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.
Luckily, it fades the second Margot lays eyes on the apartment.
The place is clean and spacious, with fresh paint, vinyl plank flooring, and top-of-the-line appliances. But it’s the views that really win her over. From a large window in the living room, she can see all the way from the bustling green park across the street to the downtown Denver skyline.
Amanda, the leasing agent, has turned her attention to Margot, but every once in a while, her eyes drift back to me and linger a moment too long. Whether her attention is meant to flirt or flatter, I find myself nothing but annoyed by it. It’s obviousthat Margot and I are together. We’re all small touches and sweet smiles as we move through the apartment. We’ve made no mention of the fact that Margot will be the only one living here.
When we step back out into the common area, the leasing agent is looking down at her phone, thumbs flying across the screen as she types something. She glances up at us and smiles, tucking her phone away.
“So, what do you think?” Amanda asks.
“It’s amazing,” Margot says.
Amanda beams at Margot like an old friend. “Isn’t it? If this unit had been available when I moved in, I would have snatched it up in a heartbeat. If you’d like to follow me back to my office, we can fill out a bit of paperwork and reserve the unit for you. It’s just a standard non-refundable $75 application fee plus first month’s rent to hold this apartment.”
The leasing agent is practically shoving us out the door when Margot interjects. “Actually, I’d like to tour a few more properties before I commit.”