Anyway, I don’t want to have a face-to-face with him, but I need to pull up my big-girl panties and get it over with. Decision made, I fold the check, put it in my pocket and head down to the maintenance office.
Minutes later, once I’m standing outside the office, I take a deep breath.
You can do it.
I push the door open and step inside.
A man I’ve seen around the building before, stands inside, leaning over the desk and looking through a pile of paper. He lifts his head and smiles kindly at me. He’s older than me, maybe by ten years, and his sharp, expensive suit tells me he comes from money.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I was looking for Jake.”
“He’s off today. I’m Leo, I own this building. Is there anything I can do for you?” He puts the papers down and extends a hand for me to shake.
“Emmy. And no, I needed to talk to him for a minute that’s all. I’ll catch up with him later.” I smile. “Thank you, though.” I offer a small wave as he nods and goes back to the papers on the desk.
I leave the office and walk back out to the lobby.
Think, think.
I want to get this over with. Then I decide that I at least attempted to woman-up for a face-to-face, it’s not my fault he wasn’t around. So, I walk to the concierge desk.
“Hey, Lisa.” I smile as I come to a stop at the desk.
“Hi, Emmy. How can I help you this evening?” She’s the second-shift concierge. She’s about twenty-five and as sweet as can be.
“I’m fine. Do you have an envelope I can use?”
“Of course.” She leans down to open one of the drawers behind the counter and pulls out a crisp white envelope. I thank her as she hands it to me.
I pull the check out and put it in the envelope, lick the back and close it. Then I grab a 425 Madison-branded pen from a holder on the counter and write Jake’s name on the front of the envelope.
“Where can I put this to make sure he gets it?” I lift it up showing her the name. “It’s very important.”
“He has a mailbox. And don’t worry, it’s locked and only he has the key, so it’s safe too.”
“That’s perfect.” I take a relaxing breath. I wasn’t feeling great about leaving a fifteen-thousand-dollar check at the desk, but I’ve made worse choices.
“It’s box 104.” She nods toward the mail room.
With a thanks, I turn and walk to the boxes. Finding 104, I slip it right into the box. I wipe my hands on my pants and head back upstairs.
I guess I can now consider this business transaction closed. Which is the only way I can think about it.
I will not cry.
Chapter 18
Jake
I’m still a jackass.
I’ve still not faced Emmy. I haven’t texted her or called her. She texted me a couple days ago. She said she needed to talk to me, but I let the message go unanswered.
I’m not this guy. The guy who sneaks out on a girl after sex. I’m not the kind of guy who doesn’t text back.
I’m not the kind of guy who does this to a woman he actually likes.
I really fucking like Emmy.
This past week without talking to her, seeing her, hearing her voice, it’s made me realize just how much I do like her. I fucking miss her.
Everything Kevin laid out on the floor for me during the ball game has been stirring around in my brain this past week. I’ve thrown myself into work, surprise, surprise. Even on my day off, I ended up coming in and covering a shift for Mel, one of the other guys on the team.
Needless to say, I’ve been thinking about my own issues and insecurities on repeat.
I was hoping I’d see her at some point this week though. In the lobby, near the elevators, even up on her floor. I haven’t been hiding, but I haven’t gone out of my way to seek her out.
I know I could just call her or text her, but I’m a shit and my avoidance skills are in high form right now. I need to apologize, at least.
I’ve got maybe two hours left of my shift and I’m dragging my feet. I wander out in the lobby, for no other reason than I hope to see Emmy on her way home for the day.
I’m just entering the lobby when Lisa, the evening concierge, waves me over. She’s young and attractive, but you know my rule. It goes for co-workers too.
“Hey, Lisa, what's up?” I nod.
“Not much, ready for the weekend. Are you here tomorrow or do you have Saturday off?”
“I’m actually not back on until Sunday night, then I’m here all week.”
“Well enjoy your Saturday and Sunday.” She’s a sweet kid. Okay, she isn’t a kid, twenty-five or so. Around Kev’s age. I still think of him as a kid.
I tap the counter and start to continue my way out of the building when she stops me. “Oh, did you get Emmy’s letter?”
I stop and turn my head toward her.
“Yeah, she had something for you a couple days ago. She put it in your mailbox. It looked important.”
Shit. That damn mailbox.
“No, I didn’t. Thanks for letting me know, Lisa.” I spin on my heel and nearly run to the mail room. It’s not a room per se, but more like a nook, that houses all the mailboxes on a single wall. Each mailbox has a letter-sized slot for easy distribution. I don’t know why, but every employee has a box. I never check mine, it's not as if I ever get mail here. Fortunately, I keep my mail key on my key ring and pop it open.
Sure enough, there is a single envelope sitting there, waiting for me. I pull it out and close the box. Carefully, I rip open the envelope and pull out a check. A fucking check for fifteen grand made out to me. Signed by Emmy King herself.
Shit.
The pit of my stomach just drops.
I can’t believe I’m holding a check for fifteen grand. I can’t believe that she paid me even after what happened, especially since the wedding hasn’t even happened yet.
If I didn’t feel like shit before, I definitely do now.
I don’t want her money—not after what occurred, that’s for sure. Plus, I know she can’t truly afford this.
Forgetting about the fact that I’m working, I walk to the elevators. Stepping in the car, I punch the number fourteen and impatiently push the button to close the door. Several times.
Suddenly I find myself knocking on Emmy’s door. But it’s not Emmy who answers.
“Oh, what do you want?” Becca sounds annoyed. I get it, I deserve her snark.
“Is Emmy here?” I try to look around her, but she blocks my view into the room.
“Nope.” She pops the word.
I furrow my brow. “Look,” I start in, but she holds a hand up.
“No, you look. Ghosting her after sex, that’s shitty. But not letting her know that you’ve gotten her fifteen-thousand-dollar check, now that’s fucked up.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, I know, but I just got the check, like less than five minutes ago.”
She eyes me, unsure if she should believe me or not.
“Can you just tell her I was here and need to talk to her?” I can’t help the pleading tone of my voice.
“Here’s an idea, buddy. Pick up the phone and call her. Call. Her.”
I wouldn’t say Becca shuts the door in my face at that point, but it’s not a quiet “I live in an apartment and should be mindful of my neighbors” kind of shut.
With a sigh, I head back down to the lobby.
Once I’m back in the maintenance office, I pull out my phone and call her. The phone rings a few times, then I’m sent to voicemail. Her adorably chipper voice makes me smile. I hang up at the beep. No, what I need to tell her has got to be face-to-face. Preferably in private.
About two hours later, I clock out for the day. I’m considering heading over to Monterey's for a drink before I head home. Normally, after a week like this, I’d open up Match Me and find a hookup for the night. But none of that interests me. I’ve actually considered deleting the app, but the timing m
ight be immature. I’m just not feeling it, but that doesn’t mean I should delete it.
I lock the office door behind me. It’s only seven, but it’s officially considered after hours. Mel is on tonight and he’s already in the maintenance apartment for the night. It’s not a bad gig, being on call here at 425 Madison. The tiny one-bedroom is decked out to the nines, making your night away from home while you work as comfortable as possible.
I barely clear the hall into the lobby when I see Emmy ahead of me, making her way toward the front of the building. I hurry to catch up. I push through the massive chrome doors and yell out to her.
“Emmy, wait!”
She stops and turns toward me. She looks a little startled at first, but she quickly replaces that look with disdain. Clearly, she isn’t happy to see me. I’m not surprised. As I catch up to her, I notice how amazing she looks. She’s dressed in tan dress pants and a silky, black, sleeveless top. She’s wearing heels, which adds to her height and complements her already long, lean legs. When she doesn’t have heels on, she tucks right up under my chin. At this height, though, I don’t have to bend as far down to kiss her. Which is immediately what I start thinking about. Those pouty lips steal my focus, but I quickly regain it and look at the rest of her beautiful face.
“What do you want, Jake?” She crosses her arms.
Damn, her attitude is cute. I bite back a smile. “I don’t want the check.” I fish it out of my back pocket and hand it to her.
She looks down at what I’m offering, her eyes drawn, and brow furrowed.
“What do you mean you don’t want it? We had a deal.” She looks back up at me.
“I know, but I don’t want it.” I shake it toward her again, but she doesn’t take it. Her face starts to blush. She shyly looks around and takes a step closer to me.
“Look, I’m good for it, I don’t go back on my deals. And I don’t appreciate you taking pity on me after what I told you last weekend.” Her whisper is harsh. She’s embarrassed, and she thinks I don’t want her money because I don’t think she can afford it.
I shake my head. “One, I know you’re good for it. Two, this isn’t a pity thing. Promise.” This seems to calm her a little.
“Then, what is it?”
“It’s more like, I can’t accept it.” She opens her mouth, I’m sure to ask why, but I keep talking, “I broke the rules. Therefore, our deal is null and void.”
She crosses her arms again. “What, the no-fucking-the-residents rule? You’re an ass, Jake.”
I chuckle, “Yes, I know I am.”
Apparently, this pisses her off enough that she turns on her shiny, black heel and starts to walk away. But I reach out just in time and grab her arm.
“Wait, Emmy. Please.” I try not to beg, but I’m nearing the point that I probably need to.
She huffs but turns to face me.
“I said rules, that was only one of the rules I broke.” I can tell she’s trying to recall them, there were only four: three of mine, one of hers.
“There was a fifth rule, an unspoken one. A rule I had for myself. That was to not fall for the gorgeous brunette who lives in unit fourteen-twelve.” She gives me a sideways look, but her posture relaxes.
“I don’t deserve this check. I don’t want it. It’s not what I want.”
“What is it that you want, Jake?”
“You.” It’s all that needs said. She rolls her eyes, which is not what I was expecting.
“You left after sex. You wrote me a shitty letter.”
“That I did, and I’ve regretted it every day since.”
“Then why haven’t you texted me? Or called me. You’re clearly very skilled at ghosting people.”
“I know, which is why I agreed with you about being an asshole.” I can’t help laughing.
“So, what’s your excuse then?”
“I’ve had a really hard time getting past the fact that on paper, you and I don’t make sense.”
“What paper? There’s no paper, Jake. It’s just me and you.” She doesn’t seem to have much anger left, like she’s lost her steam.
“I know, but the truth is you’ll always be out of my league. You’ll always have money, you were born into it. Even if you choose not to use it, it’s still there. Tucked away safely, waiting for you when you decide to use it. But me, I’ve never had money, and I never will. Sometimes, it feels like I live paycheck to paycheck. I will always be a blue-collar worker.”
She bites her lip while she tries to process everything I’ve laid out for her.
“I thought I was always content and secure in my career path. It always felt like what I was supposed to do. But after a few bad dates and not so wonderful ex-girlfriends, I realized that at some point down the line, I’d probably never make enough money to keep a wife happy, at least not when it comes to stability.”
She puts up a hand to stop my admissions. “Jake, those bad dates, stupid ex-girlfriends, they aren’t me. I walked away from millions so I could live my life the way I wanted to. I told you everything. I told you how money was of little importance to me. And you still didn’t think I could handle you not making a lot of money? I thought you understood me. I know we’ve not known each other a long time, but I thought you knew me better than that.”
It takes everything in me not to hang my head in defeat. And maybe I do, just a little.
Her next words are soft as she steps closer to me. “I’ve always had a hard time knowing if my relationships are real. If it was the draw of money that made them stick around. And, while that’s how it started with us, I thought you and I were more than that. I thought you were the real deal.”
I clear my throat. “Emmy, I want to be the real deal for you. I fought like hell not to fall for you, but damn, I couldn’t fight it.” My arms hang to my side, check still in hand. I lazily lift the check to her and tell her, “I can’t accept this money, because I would never expect any kind of money from the woman I’ve been falling for.”
Her breath hitches.
“I want to be real with you, Emmy, for as long as you will have me.”
I scan her face, her features, looking for any kind of tell that she wants to be mine. Where I just saw hopefulness moments ago, her eyes are now filled with skepticism.
“That money also bought your secrecy about the Skee-Ball machine. Are you going to spill the beans on that?”
I want to smile and laugh and pull her into my arms, but I hold back. I pull my fingers across my lips, the universal sign of zipping my lips. “Never.”
“I might be semi-estranged from my parents, but there will be times that I can’t get out of going to King family functions. Those events will be filled with rich and pretentious people. Will you be able to handle that?”
“As long as I’ve got you by my side, I can handle anything.” I’m smiling now and I can tell she’s fighting back her own.
“And what if there comes a time that I need you to wear some god-awful sweater vest or Doctor Who-esque suit? Will you wear them?” She’s clearly fighting back her grin now.
“I’ll die before I ever wear a sweater vest.”
She hmphs.
“But I can tell you that nothing else matters, because I love you.”
She twists her lips then finally says, “Well, lucky you, because I love you, too.”
We both stand there for a moment, stupid-ass grins on both our faces. Then I reach out, grab her arms, and haul her in to me.
Our noses nearly touching, I look down into her eyes. “I’m sorry I was a jackass. I can’t promise I won’t have my moments, but I’ll do everything in my power to try to keep you happy, Emmy.”
“You don’t have to keep me happy. I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you,” she whispers.
My eyes close briefly at the sound of her hushed words.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I can hear the mirth in her voice.
I smile as I give her what she wants, because making Emmy King happy is my top prior
ity for as long as she will have me.
Epilogue
Emmy
Four months later …
“Oh, yeah. Get in there.”
I can’t help but giggle at Jake.
“Nooo … it went in the wrong hole.” He covers his face with his hand.
“I told you I have the magic touch. These balls are putty in my hands.” It’s the truth.
“Hmm, yes, you do, baby,” he says and nuzzles my neck.
“Ugh, you two are gross. If we couldn’t see you playing Skee-Ball right now, we’d be begging you to get a room.” Bex sounds disgusted, but when I peek over my shoulder at her, she’s smiling. She’s perched on the couch next to Kevin.
I snag up the first faux-wooden ball from the machine. And hip-check Jake out of my way.
“We’d be more than happy to get a room.” Jake laughs next to me.
“Sure, but in some other apartment. As in not here, in this one.” Becca turns up her nose.
“Oh hush, Bex, we’re quiet and you know it.” I turn to look at her again and she scrunches up her nose.
Jake looks smug and Kevin chuckles, but his focus remains on the halftime report on the television.
Kevin and Jake have taken to coming over to watch sporting events with us. Mostly because our television is bigger, we always have food, and it’s easier for Jake to swing by when he’s on call or just off work.
Kevin is fun, and he gets along with Bex well enough. I thought briefly that the two of them might hit it off a little too much, but Becca doesn’t date younger men. Plus, she has been dating a guy much older than her for the past couple of months. I’ve not met him yet, which doesn’t bother me, but I’m not sure this relationship is going to last a lot longer. She’s whip-smart and loves her bartending gig. Marshal has money, and from what she’s told me, doesn’t love that she tends bar.
Things between Jake and me have been amazing over the past few months. He still works a lot, but on nights when he’s on call, he stays over. As long as he has the office-issued cell phone on him, it’s not a problem. I also stay at his place occasionally, but it’s not Jake’s favorite place to be, so we don’t go there a lot. Mostly, it’s a money pit. He’s always having to put his own money into fixing up his unit because his landlord is shitty about doing it himself. I know Jake is itching to get a house. He told me the night we became a real couple that that was the reason he wanted the money. Not that I really had the money then, or now, but I feel bad he ended up not taking the check I gave him. But his pride is important, it wouldn’t have made him happy if he had cashed it.
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