by Jolie Day
I should’ve taken it as a sign when the elevator didn’t arrive, and I had to take the stairs down to my car. Only causing more dizziness in my brain from going around and around, down and down, deeper and deeper into hell.
And now? I was stuck here. Anyone got a pitchfork? Damon?
I sure could use some sense of direction. I’d never felt so sick to my stomach as I felt now. At work, I hadn’t been able to concentrate on a single thing. Have I mentioned that already? I have. Only one thing was in my mind—her. Her. And no one else. Rose in her yellow summer dress.
Her questioning, hopeful eyes.
No, something wasn’t right.
It didn’t make sense. Why would she leave if we were a happy family? I could barely think, all I knew was that my gut was screaming my ears off, and chopping away at the little sense I had left. There was no way that she didn’t feel what I felt. Or was there?
I should’ve fought harder for her.
Ding.
The elevator doors pinged open, and I walked slowly over to my door, looking sideways at Rose’s door. I tried to hear if there were any noises coming from behind her door, but I couldn’t hear anything. Maybe she was still at my place.
I opened my door and looked inside. It was quiet.
All her things were gone.
I walked in, dropping my keys into the bowl on the entry table—the glass bowl cracked into three pieces, great—before noticing a folded paper on the kitchen counter. I picked it up, and a check fell out. A five-hundred-thousand-dollar check. I ran my hand over my face and through my hair, knowing why she’d left it here. She didn’t want anything to do with me.
I dropped the fucking check and opened the letter.
I stood as still as a pillar and stared down at her words.
Miles,
Firstly, Happy Birthday (billionaire)!
I know you believed your family was worried that you were never going to grow up and be the last-standing party animal in the Old Folks Home! So, congratulations on showing them that wasn’t true.
But, do you know what? I think they knew this all along. It only took me six months to see the real you, and they have known you a whole lot longer than I have. Also, I’ve seen how they are with you, and I can assure you that they love and value you immensely.
How can I be so sure? Well, that’s easy—because I’m in love with you.
You’ll be shocked to hear that. I understand that you don’t feel the same as I do and probably never will. That’s the reason I’ll be gone by the time you read this letter. I had to leave, and I’m very sorry. I’ve had the best time of my life, fake-living with you, even if we were only living a fairy tale.
But now that time is over, and I need to decide what I want for the rest of my life.
You once told me that you don’t need “that love bullshit” in your life, and I have to respect your wish. I, on the other hand, very much want love and romance in my life. I also want happiness in my life. So, I can’t stay for the goodbyes, and that’s why I can’t be your friend either, not yet anyway. I’m sorry about that. If I was around you, I’d only be setting myself up for heartbreak.
Please don’t look for me. I need space and time to think.
Keep safe, and have a great birthday.
With love,
Rose and little Princess Muffin Patch
P.S.: I’m obviously a coward about these things as I wrote this note instead of telling you to your face. Sorry again!
I read the letter a second time, a third time.
My heart thundered.
Part of me was crushed that she was gone, but a part deep down was happy. Insanely happy. She’d fallen in love with me? She really had? Then why the fuck hadn’t she spoken up, and given me a fucking signal?
Damn.
She had.
I even noted the hope in her eyes when I’d complimented her, last night. Then, I’d almost told her how I’d lost my heart to her, but decided to hold that back for later. She’d taken my hand when the romantic music started playing. She must’ve given up hope that the feeling between us was mutual as soon as we left Giovanni’s. And I’d been too blind and stupid to put one and one together. She’d even put on a summer dress, in the fall! Just for the occasion. For me. Probably had had cold feet as fuck.
I hated that I realized too late that she’d been scared. Just like I was.
I hated that I’d hurt her.
God dammit. I should’ve listened to my gut.
Right then, I heard the wolf on my back growl a dark, mocking howl. No shit, you dick-bag, he grumbled.
I know, I know. I fucked up. Royally.
Had I just told her how I felt, we could’ve avoided so much hurt. Had I just been open with her, instead of waiting and trying to outrun the clock, we could’ve talked this out. She could’ve just “moved” and not “left me,” because now I stood here without her in my life. I would’ve been happy with a “see you later, jerk-face” or a “call me sometime, prick,” just anything other than her completely walking out of my life without looking back.
With my head in my hands, I walked over to the couch and sat down.
Okay, calm down.
What now?
She was completely right, though. I didn’t blame her. I’d already known months ago that she wouldn’t trust me to be the man she needs—but I was. I didn’t know much, but what I knew was this: She was the girl I loved. She was the reason I finally felt free. She was the one I wanted to see—every fucking day for the rest of my life.
At least I knew where she was, and I could fix things.
I could fix things now.
But I needed to get this right.
First, I needed to prove to her that I loved her, not the fucking money. Fuck the inheritance. Now that she was gone, I saw it more clearly than ever before: I could live without the money, but I couldn’t live without her. I had to come clean. If I took the fucking inheritance, she would never be mine.
This needed to be done before I spoke to her.
She’d said that she needed time to think, and that she needed to decide what she wanted for the rest of her life.
In my case, I didn’t need to decide what I wanted. Well, I knew that already—I wanted her. For Rose, I could be the man she expected me to be and make her happy, and not just happy, madly happy.
I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed my dad.
“Hey, Pops. Can I come over?”
“Yes, son, I was waiting for your call. You didn’t stop by in my office today. Your mom is making dinner.”
“Miles!” I heard my mom in the background. “We can celebrate your birthday again!”
“Rose is welcome to join, as well,” my dad said.
“No, Pops, I just want to sit and talk to you for a while. Is that okay?”
My father was quiet for a moment. “Of course. Come right over, Miles. I’ll see you soon.”
When I pulled up at my parents’ house, I switched the car engine off and sat for a minute, considering what I’d say. I knew there was a great possibility that this was it, once I’d come clean about everything to Dad, I’d lose it all—the trust, my job, everything.
But what good would it do for me if I didn’t have the only thing I wanted? The one thing I couldn’t have?
Dad would be pissed. He’d probably tell me how disappointed he was in me. I was dreading the “little chat” ahead of me, but I had no other choice but to go in and take it like a man. One thought came to mind that eased my stress. If I did this, if I told him about everything and walked out of there with a clear conscience, I’d know that I did the best I could.
It was the right thing to do.
It was the only thing to do.
Rose would know that I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the money, and maybe, fucking hopefully, come back to me.
That gave me the strength to get out of the car and walk up to the front door.
Time to face the music.
41
MILES
I rang the doorbell.
The door swung open not too long after, and it surprised me that my father was standing at the door. Usually it was Willette, the housekeeper, who greeted me when I stopped by.
“Miles, son, come inside.” Dad stepped aside to invite me in.
“Hey, Pops. Mom around?”
“Yeah, she’s in the kitchen. But don’t worry, I told her we’re going to be in the study.”
“Thanks,” I said, and we headed in that direction.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in his private study. After we arrived, Dad gestured for me to sit down in the lounge area, and he headed over to the scotch station. A warm memory sprang to mind—this was where I found my liking for scotch, in this room. My dad always poured a glass for anyone he invited in here, and it often went with serious business talk. When we were kids, we’d peek through the door at the men talking business, Oliver and me both admiring them, and when we were older, we were the men in this room, tumblers of scotch in our hands, talking business.
It felt good to be here now.
Dad poured us each a tumbler and handed me mine, before sitting down with his in the armchair, across from me.
He focused his steely gray-blue gaze on me. “So. What’s going on, son?”
“Pops…” I looked down into my glass, then into his eyes. “I’m a fraud.”
His eyebrows raised questioningly.
“The whole thing with Rose,” I said, “It was fake. It was a contractual deal that I set up, so that I’d seem responsible and grown-up to you so that now, on my birthday, I’d get my inheritance and be able to keep my job with the company.”
Dad looked as if he wanted to say something, but I stopped him with a lifted hand.
“Let me just get this all out before you say anything. I know that it was a horrible thing to do. I know that it will break Mom’s heart. And I feel like a shithead for doing it. But the truth is that my heart is in shambles. Rose left, her side of the deal is done, and she left me. But I love her, Pops.”
He just sat in silence and looked down into his tumbler.
I continued. “She ended up being the perfect woman for me. I didn’t think I’d ever be in love again after what happened in college, but here I am. Rose and I spent six months together, and I didn’t really think about what would happen when the deal ended. I didn’t think it through. I thought—no, I hoped—that she’d stay.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. She’s gone now. She left me a letter. She didn’t give me the chance to tell her that I fucking love her, but that’s my own fault. I should’ve told her a while ago, already.”
My dad sat in silence, swirling his drink in its glass.
“I want to be a better man than I’ve been,” I said. “I want to be able to say that I’d be good for her. I know you raised me better than this, and I’m ashamed. I want to apologize to you, Dad.”
He lifted his eyes to me.
“And to Mom, when I can.” I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an idiot.”
Eventually, he leaned forward and asked, “Well then, what the hell are you doing sitting here when you should be out chasing Rose down and telling her all of this?”
I looked at him in surprise. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re not angry?”
My father shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “Miles, I knew. So did your mother.”
“What?” I blinked, disbelieving.
“Everybody knew. Do you think I’ve come so far because I’m a naïve fool? What did you think? That I was clueless?”
My shoulders dropped. I leaned back, lost for words. I took a sip of my drink. And another sip. There was no way Oliver or Damon talked. Or Rose.
“What, are you speechless now?” Dad asked.
“No, just trying to process it,” I answered. “What gave it away?”
“The timing, mostly. Also, your mother reads romance novels, adoringly so. She’s a head-in-the-clouds romantic, always was, always will be. It helps her sleep better, she says. Not sure how that’s true because sometimes, she’s awake until 4 a.m. unable to put her book down. Must be great stuff. Maybe I should try it sometime. But then I’d get nothing done. Anyway, apparently, the fake relationship trope is a favorite among the connoisseurs. You were dreaming when you tried to pull that maneuver on me. Ha, ha. Son, please, lay down the crack pipe.”
“I’ve never smoked crack,” I lied.
He gave me an “I said stop the bullshit” look, then said, “You get my meaning, son.”
“When did you find out?” I asked him.
“I knew from the start. Well, there was a short moment of hesitation.”
I looked up.
“Her calling you ‘Ducky,’ it was priceless. Her idea?” I gave him a nod. “It almost got me convinced there for a second.”
“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” I asked.
“Watch your language, son,” he admonished me. “Your mother. She wanted to give your dumb idea a chance, the hopeless idealist she is. She said no woman ever calls a man ‘Ducky’ unless she’s madly in love with him, and no man allows a woman to call him that unless he’s madly in love with her. So, there you have it.”
Ha.
“Ducky” saved the inheritance.
Can you believe that? Fuck. Me. I laughed out loud.
Fucking “Ducky” saved the inheritance!
This was some hilarious crack shit if you ask me.
I still couldn’t believe that everybody fucking knew. Dad, Mom, Oliver. Here I was, thinking I’m playing the game, being a perfect player, but turned out, the fucking game played me. If it wasn’t so tragic, it’d be funny. Well, actually, it still was funny.
“Is that why Mom came to my apartment that day?” I asked.
“Ah,” he grumbled. “Now you’re starting to put one and one together.”
The puzzle continued to form itself into a clear picture in my head. It was perfect timing when my mom visited with Rose already moved in. It didn’t seem like that at the time, but it was. The whole timing was an accidental fortune of things. Getting caught in the act. The underwear lying on the floor. My mom wanting to look around, and then her sudden departure. Ah, Mom. She’d known what was going on right away, and Mom being Mom, somehow realized that we’d make it work.
“It was all my idea, Pops. Well, except for the pet name. Rose had nothing to do with the scheme. Her affection toward you and Mom and Oliver is real, and she feels horrible about the whole thing. She hated lying to you. I used her desperation about losing her apartment. I paid her to fake the relationship with me.”
“Of course you did. I know that,” Dad said. “We hold no grudge against Rose. None whatsoever. A man needs a woman in his life who supports him through thick and thin. Crazy ideas and all. You might be surprised to learn that I wasn’t always the mental giant and well of brilliant ideas you see before you now. I’ve had my share of questionable ideas. Rarely, of course. I’ve been lucky in that way, but what I’ve learned is, sometimes a bad idea can lead to a good one. Not always, but it can happen.”
“Dad, I’m glad you’re not disappointed—”
“At first I was, of course,” he interrupted me. “But, son, what you’ve just done is the most mature thing I’ve ever seen you do. I’m too proud of you to be angry or disappointed. The idea was bad, but how you handled today is what counts. I know that you have made a lot of questionable decisions in the past, and you had your share of bad luck. But I also know that you have a good head on you and—more importantly—a good heart. I just hope you stay the course you’re on. So does your mother. But I couldn’t be more pleased, today.”
He made a summing up swirly motion with his hand. “Yes, I knew right away that there was something fishy going on. But I also knew that Rose would be good for you. Your mother did the rest. Miles, I really am proud of you,
my boy. Now, go find that lovely lady of yours. She needs to hear everything you just said to me.”
“Pops…” I put my drink down and stood up, and he did the same. “Thank you.”
We hugged, and he patted me on the back as he walked me out. At the door, he stopped me. “Son, I would never have taken your inheritance or your job from you. I just wanted you to show that you really are the man you’ve showed me, today.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m glad to hear that.” I was. It meant a lot to hear him say it. No question, I was relieved by the outcome of our meeting, thrilled even. I sure as hell wouldn’t waste time worrying about a setup that was supposed to prove something—because now, I had other places to be. One place, to be precise. “Kiss Mom for me.”
“Sure will. And son, come by my office in the next couple of days.”
“Yeah?”
“I like your idea. I’ve taken a look at the ‘New Zones’ folder you prepared for me, about investing and expanding into different sectors of property development for the city. I can tell the project means a lot to you. At first, I was skeptical, and sure, not everything is bells and whistle-ready, or fit for funding, but there are some good ideas here. Let’s discuss more.”
“Sounds great, I’ll stop by next week.”
I jogged down to my car.
Soon, I’d be celebrating. I got the inheritance, I got the project, and best of all, I got the girl—or better: I had a chance at getting the girl. I could do it. Now or never.
When I got back to our apartment building, I rushed over to Rose’s place and rapped at her door.
Knock. Knock.
And rapped again.
Knock. Knock.
“Rose, it’s me.”
I heard a rustle of sounds and then the door opened. Thank God. My heart racing, I stood, ready to delve into everything I’d just told my father—and more. But when the door swung open, it wasn’t Rose standing there on the other side. It was an elderly man. I’ve never seen him before.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought somebody else lived here,” I said, wondering who he was and stepped back.
“No problem,” the old man said, his voice rusty. “I’ve only just moved in today, so I understand your confusion.”