01

193 24 17
                                    

My wrist watch indicates it's four in the afternoon. Richard is fifteen minutes late. I rest on a bench, legs crossed, with my luggage at my side. A weak, yet noticeable thirst dries my mouth as I crack open my water bottle. Before the plastic can make contact with my lips, a car pulls over in front of me. The window lowers. "Welcome to Chicago." the driver says with a smile. 

I roll my eyes and swallow multiple mouthfuls of water as the vehicle parks. As I screw on the lid of the bottle, the sound of a closing door fills my ears. I place the bottle in my handbag and stand. "The welcoming would've been better had you not arrived fifteen minutes late." I tell as Richard opens the boot of the car. He wanders towards me, taking both of my suitcases. "Hey now, I had to leave work for you." he says in an attempt to defend himself. "Mm, and I left my home country for you." I return. He places my suitcases in the car without a word. "Yeah, that's what I thought." I say with a smile. 

"How was the flight?" Richard questions as he pulls out of the airport parking lot. I crack my neck with a soft groan. "Fine. I got from point A to point B in one piece, so it was a success." I answer. He smiles. "No babies crying or children kicking your seat?" I shake my head. "They don't have those in Business class." I reply. 


"Right, would you like to get your car now, or would you rather do it tomorrow?" Richard asks as we stop at a red light. I glance at my watch; four-fifteen. "Tomorrow. I need food and sleep." I reply. He looks at me quickly. "Didn't you eat on the plane?" My face screws up at his question. "God, no. Plane food is horrendous." He shakes his head. "Good to see you're still a pretentious bitch." he jokes. I turn my head in his direction. "That's a lot coming from the rich kid who attended boarding schools for all his youth. I'm sorry I don't like Plane food." I argue. He flicks me a glance as we turn a corner. "Y/n, you were also a rich kid. You just didn't go to boarding schools, you went to private schools." he returns. I shake my head and turn to look out the window.


The car pulls off the main road and into another parking lot. I climb out with a stretch. Richard retrieves my suitcases from the car and we walk towards a set of buildings. "You said your apartment used to be your parents'." Richard states. I confirm. "Why'd they need an apartment here if they live in Vancouver?" he questions. "You'd have to ask them." I reply as we pass through a set of automatic doors. 

My eyes meet those of a young brunette. "Ah, Miss Sinclair, I heard you were coming back for a while." she tells. Her soft Spanish accent fills me with a familiar comfort. I smile as the distance between us lessens. "Catarina, darling, it's good to see you." I say as she rounds the desk towards me. I place my handbag on the ground and wrap my arms around her. Her chin rests on my shoulders for a few seconds before she pulls back. 

"I take it you're going to be a permanent fixture in the building." I nod and smile. "I will be now that I've got a job over here." I reply. Her eyebrows raise slightly. "Oh really?" she questions. I nod again and Richard cuts in before I can speak. "She's my company's new corporate lawyer." he tells. I flick a stern glare at him, but it softens as I notice he's gotten my handbag from the floor and placed it on one of my suitcases. 


Minutes of chatter pass before Catarina and I part. Richard follows me towards a set of elevators. "You and her seem quite friendly." Richard mentions as an elevator opens. He follows me inside. "Makes sense as she and I are friends, no?" I reply. The elevator doors close. He doesn't respond. 

We reach the apartment that was once in my parents name but is now in mine. I push the door open with a sigh. "Oh, they've done a fabulous job at keeping it clean." I say, more to myself than Richard. He continues to follow me. His eyes fall on the bookshelf. "Why so many books?" he questions, frowning. "This may come as a shock to you, Richard, but sometimes people find enjoyment in a book. It's called reading." I answer. He rolls his eyes as he places my suitcases against the wall. 

The Advances of One, The Love of Another {Elaine Markinson / Reader}Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora