We pulled up into the driveway in front of my apartment building. Keith Lobello was looking uncomfortable, probably because he couldn’t stop spewing out random and inappropriate secrets. “Would you, eh, like me to walk you to your door?”
I shook my head, and mouthed, “No thank you, good night,” which he probably couldn’t see in the dim light from the dash. I let myself out of the squeezed interior of the sports car and shut the door behind me. Good riddance. I took a deep, cleansing breath and went up to the stairs. The good doctor didn’t even have the courtesy to wait and make sure I got safely inside my apartment before he put it in reverse and drove it away.
“Asshole,” I grumbled. Instead of going straight to my door, I went to James’s patio table and chairs on the porch
