apartment in Kirribilli was my sanctuary.
I’d lived here for almost five years. The building was 1920s, with tiered brickwork and yesteryear charm, but inside my apartment it was completely modern. Due to the success of my business I could easily afford something bigger, but I had absolutely no intention of moving. I enjoyed living alone and this apartment had everything I needed.
I tore my eyes away from the breathtaking view of the city, and surveyed the open plan living area. It wasn’t what you’d call spacious, yet I found it big enough. On the far wall was a streamlined white kitchen, with handleless doors and granite bench tops. Its compact size wasn’t an issue considering I rarely cooked. It hadn’t helped that I’d dated one of the city’s best chefs for six years – I’d grown lazy.
The only thing the apartment lacked was a car space. After a couple of years of parking my car on the street, I’d finally given up and sold it. My apartment was nestled in a quiet street, but it was only a short walk to the shops, ferries and trains. On the rare occasions I needed to drive somewhere, I hired a cab.
The doorbell buzzer cut through my self-satisfied reverie, and I went to the intercom.
“Tech support!” a bright voice called when I picked up the handset.
I smiled and hit the button to let in Christa and my brother, Max. I’d asked Max to come and take a look at my laptop. Working in IT, he was used to receiving regular requests from computer illiterate relatives and friends. Christa was tagging along for a good gossip session. Plus her and Max were pretty much inseparable these days.
I walked down the hall and opened my front door. Christa bustled in, confronting me with a headful of blond curls as she stood on tiptoes to kiss me.
“I brought food.” She grinned, her blue eyes bright. “Unhealthy food, but knowing you, you’ll walk it off later.”
Max came in behind her. “Sis.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and followed Christa into the living area. She spread out an assortment of brown paper bags from the bakery onto my glass dining table.
“God, I don’t know how you get anything done when you’re at home. I know I’ve got water views, but if I could see the city like this, I’d sit and stare at it all day,” Christa said.
Max pulled out a chair and sat down, just managing to tuck his long legs underneath the table. He was wearing a sports T-shirt and shorts. It looked like my computer issue was holding him back from his Saturday morning run.
“Alright, so dish. How was the blind date with Mr. Exotic?” Christa bit into a croissant and started chewing ravenously.
I suppressed a smile as Max reached over and, without saying a word, wiped a large crumb from Christa’s cheek. She grinned at him with her mouth full, then passed him a custard scroll.
“No wonder you guys work out so much,” I muttered, not unkindly.
“Weekend indulgence,” Christa stated, then pointed at me. “Don’t change the subject.”
I sighed and sat down on the dining chair next to her. “He’s definitely exotic. I can’t fault you on that.”
“But?”
I opened one of the brown paper bags and picked out another croissant. Christa was right. I’d probably burn it off by lunchtime anyway. I took a big bite and savored the buttery pastry. Christa was practically frothing at the mouth for an answer by the time I swallowed.
“He’s a bit traditional.”
“Uh oh,” Max muttered.
“You didn’t hurt him, did you?” Christa asked.
“No! Of course not.” The sad thing was, my friends knew me well. My reproductive issues aside, I might appear to be conservative about relationships compared to Scarlett and Christa’s double figure boyfriend history, but that didn’t mean I was after the traditional husband, two kids, and white picket fence. “He feels rather strongly a woman’s place is in the home, taking care of the children he wants to have.”
Christa eyed me skeptically.
I’d lived here for almost five years. The building was 1920s, with tiered brickwork and yesteryear charm, but inside my apartment it was completely modern. Due to the success of my business I could easily afford something bigger, but I had absolutely no intention of moving. I enjoyed living alone and this apartment had everything I needed.
I tore my eyes away from the breathtaking view of the city, and surveyed the open plan living area. It wasn’t what you’d call spacious, yet I found it big enough. On the far wall was a streamlined white kitchen, with handleless doors and granite bench tops. Its compact size wasn’t an issue considering I rarely cooked. It hadn’t helped that I’d dated one of the city’s best chefs for six years – I’d grown lazy.
The only thing the apartment lacked was a car space. After a couple of years of parking my car on the street, I’d finally given up and sold it. My apartment was nestled in a quiet street, but it was only a short walk to the shops, ferries and trains. On the rare occasions I needed to drive somewhere, I hired a cab.
The doorbell buzzer cut through my self-satisfied reverie, and I went to the intercom.
“Tech support!” a bright voice called when I picked up the handset.
I smiled and hit the button to let in Christa and my brother, Max. I’d asked Max to come and take a look at my laptop. Working in IT, he was used to receiving regular requests from computer illiterate relatives and friends. Christa was tagging along for a good gossip session. Plus her and Max were pretty much inseparable these days.
I walked down the hall and opened my front door. Christa bustled in, confronting me with a headful of blond curls as she stood on tiptoes to kiss me.
“I brought food.” She grinned, her blue eyes bright. “Unhealthy food, but knowing you, you’ll walk it off later.”
Max came in behind her. “Sis.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and followed Christa into the living area. She spread out an assortment of brown paper bags from the bakery onto my glass dining table.
“God, I don’t know how you get anything done when you’re at home. I know I’ve got water views, but if I could see the city like this, I’d sit and stare at it all day,” Christa said.
Max pulled out a chair and sat down, just managing to tuck his long legs underneath the table. He was wearing a sports T-shirt and shorts. It looked like my computer issue was holding him back from his Saturday morning run.
“Alright, so dish. How was the blind date with Mr. Exotic?” Christa bit into a croissant and started chewing ravenously.
I suppressed a smile as Max reached over and, without saying a word, wiped a large crumb from Christa’s cheek. She grinned at him with her mouth full, then passed him a custard scroll.
“No wonder you guys work out so much,” I muttered, not unkindly.
“Weekend indulgence,” Christa stated, then pointed at me. “Don’t change the subject.”
I sighed and sat down on the dining chair next to her. “He’s definitely exotic. I can’t fault you on that.”
“But?”
I opened one of the brown paper bags and picked out another croissant. Christa was right. I’d probably burn it off by lunchtime anyway. I took a big bite and savored the buttery pastry. Christa was practically frothing at the mouth for an answer by the time I swallowed.
“He’s a bit traditional.”
“Uh oh,” Max muttered.
“You didn’t hurt him, did you?” Christa asked.
“No! Of course not.” The sad thing was, my friends knew me well. My reproductive issues aside, I might appear to be conservative about relationships compared to Scarlett and Christa’s double figure boyfriend history, but that didn’t mean I was after the traditional husband, two kids, and white picket fence. “He feels rather strongly a woman’s place is in the home, taking care of the children he wants to have.”
Christa eyed me skeptically.
Similar Books
