Falling For Her Manny: A Sweet Workplace Romance (Single In the City Book 2)
Page 19
Jen stared at him, her expression frozen. Several seconds passed in silence until she finally drew a breath. “Are you saying. . .” She squinted as if she didn’t understand.
Blake nodded. “I think maybe it’s best if we end this now, rather than later.” He reached out and took her hand. “Jen, you’d never be happy with me, and I’ll never live up to your family’s expectations. I’ll always feel like I’m not good enough, and I don’t know if I can change that.” Maybe if he put it on him, he could soften the blow.
“All of this because of my father’s comment about being a manny at the dinner party? Because if—”
“No. Because I’m almost certain what we want and see for our future is entirely different.”
She trembled as she took in this information, and when she wrenched her hand away, he let her. She had a right to be angry. Surely, she was blindsided. Blake went from getting a job watching children to prove he’s husband material to telling her he wanted to break up practically overnight.
“It’s an excuse.” She straightened, her back rigid. “You just can’t handle the fact that my family comes from money. That’s it, isn’t it? Some kind of macho superiority complex.”
Blake sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair. “It’s not that, and you know it.”
Jen shot up from her seat and spread her arms out in front of him. “Then what? You say our futures don’t align, but we talked about a wedding at The Plaza in June.”
“That’s superficial, irrelevant details.”
Her brows rose to her hairline. “Irrelevant? A wedding is an irrelevant detail?”
Blake stood and faced her, pleading with his eyes for understanding. “No, but it also says nothing about what we want out of life. It’s an event, one day out of thousands. It’s flowers and menus and seating charts. A marriage is for life. It’s children and a home and sharing the same values and goals and wanting all the same things.”
She stabbed a finger at him. “We both want children.”
“That may be, but I’m pretty sure when we want them and how we want to raise them are different. I want to be fully involved in their lives from the time they’re babies with little to no help, while you’ll want Trish at your beck and call.”
She stumbled back like she’d been slapped. “She’s practically family. She raised me,” she said, her tone indignant.
“I know. That’s my point.” Blake nodded. “And that’s fine for you, but I want family-style dinners around the kitchen table with meals we cooked together, not some fancy dishes prepared by Clarence, our personal chef. I want to teach my kids how to clean their own rooms and help them with their math instead of hiring a tutor. I want to teach them the value of hard work and how to be independent.”
Jen placed her hands on her hips. “There is nothing wrong with making your life easier, with being able to afford the finer things in life.”
“You want to stay in Manhattan,” Blake pointed out.
Her jaw dropped. “And you don’t? You’ve never said—”
“I know.” He hung his head, hating himself for the situation he’d put himself in. For the whole of their relationship, he set aside any of his desires to fulfill every one of hers. He went along with everything she wanted. It was wrong, and now they were both paying the price. “But I don’t think I want to live in the city with kids. I want a house I can make a home.”
“We can get a townhou—”
“In the Upper East Side, that costs us more than most people will ever make in a lifetime.”
“You say this isn’t about money, but you’re sure making it sound like it is. What does it matter how much it costs?”
Blake stepped forward, reaching out to her, but she dodged him. “Jen, I’ve never worn jeans around you. Ever! Do you realize that? Other than when you’ve seen me at the shop, today is the first time, and you insinuated I should ‘clean up’ before we go out.”
“So? What does that even mean? I thought you liked dressing that way.”
“I hate it. This,” he said, gesturing toward his attire, “is how I would normally dress in my off time if I weren’t with you. The suits and the ties and tuxes, they’re not me. I build motorcycles for a living. I like ratty old jeans and grease-stained t-shirts.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say. You can wear jeans, then,” she said, her voice hitching on the words.
Blake squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s not about jeans.” He was botching this, big time. “I want a yard where our kids can play. I want a dog and a neighborhood with grass to walk him in, I want to throw baseballs in the backyard. If my kids spill juice on the carpet, I don’t want to have a heart attack because I know it was imported from France and cost more than my paycheck. I want to be the one to tuck them in at night and drive them to school. I want family cook-outs on a grill in the backyard, instead of catered events.”
Jen’s hands clenched into fists, her breathing heavy. “I feel like I’m being attacked,” she said, her voice thick.
Blake reached out and grabbed her hand. This time, she let him. He hated the flash of pain he saw in her eyes, knowing he put it there. None of this was her fault. “I’m not attacking you. Jen, you can offer someone an amazing life. Most people in the world would think I’m insane for turning all of this down,” he said, glancing around the room. “It’s amazing. But if I’m being honest with myself, it’s not me. If I stayed, I’d live my life trying to measure up and always failing. I’d live my life, shoving down my own desires to please you. That’s not fair to either of us.”
He squeezed her hands as she dropped her gaze to their linked fingers, her chin trembling with emotion. “You deserve someone who loves you for the person you are and not what you can offer. When I first met you, a part of me felt privileged that you would choose me. Because I never thought I was enough. And maybe I realize now that was part of the appeal. But you deserve so much more. You need someone who wants the same things out of life as you. There’s nothing wrong with living in a penthouse suite, having housekeepers, or a chef. Those are all amazing luxuries. I just . . .” Blake shrugged. “I’ll never feel like I belong here, however wrong that may be. And I think I realized these past weeks that I want something different.”
Jen lifted her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “You fell for her, didn’t you?”
All the blood drained from his face, and his stomach squeezed. “Who?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who she referred to.
His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her answer.
“Mel,” she said simply, and he was half surprised she remembered her name. “You fell for her.”
Not a question this time, but a statement.
Blake nodded, jaw clenched. “Maybe. I don’t know . . .” he said. But he did know. It just didn’t make any sense.
She exhaled and stepped back, pulling her hand from his grip. Turning away from him, she glanced over her shoulder one last time. “Well, what are you waiting for, then? Go get her.”
THE SECOND GRANT PICKED up the phone, Blake blurted, “I did it.”
“You did what? Had a sex change? I always knew you were more female than male.”
“You’re hilarious.” Blake rolled his eyes as he made his way to B’s Bikes around the corner. He needed to think, and what better way than while repairing a dead engine or reviving an old chopper? “I broke up with Jen.”
Grant whistled. “Whoa, dude. I have to say, I wasn’t sure you had it in ya. I mean, I know you talked about it the other day, but what gives?”
Blake walked beneath the glow of the lights of several bars, dodging people on the sidewalk as he went. “I realized you were right. It’s not just about Mel or Jen’s father. I don’t want a life full of galas and dinner parties and Saturdays spent schmoozing a bunch of people I have no interest in just because their wallets are deep. I don’t want to only hang out with her friends or wear suits every day for the rest of my life. It would be exhausting
because I’d be—”
“Pretending,” Grant answered for him.
“Yeah.” Blake nodded to himself.
“It’s about time, bro. I know Jen was a great girl, but from the moment you met her, you’ve been searching for acceptance. Like being with her might somehow validate your life. Only you can do that, man.”
Blake stepped inside his shop and made his way toward the back room, his phone still pressed to his ear. “Is this the part where we hug?”
Grant grinned and lowered his phone, turning toward the sound of Blake’s voice. “Like I want to get close enough to that ugly mug to hug you. Does this mean you’re back?”
Blake arched a brow. “I owe Mel two more weeks. I promised.”
“Still set on the mom, huh?”
Blake toyed with his phone before shoving it in his pocket. He didn’t like seeming like a yo-yo with women. He wasn’t. But he couldn’t deny his growing feelings for Mel.
When he said nothing, Grant chuckled. “I’ll save the I told you so’s for when you screw things up playing Mr. Mom. Catch,” he said, tossing Blake a wrench.
Blake glanced down at the tool in his hand and grinned. It would be good to come back. Then he shuffled toward the gleaming black bike behind his brother and went to work.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MEL
It was funny how quickly life changed, Mel mused. One day, you’re worn down and run ragged. The next, you’re thrilled at the prospect of your future and anxiously awaiting what else life may have to offer. That was particularly true as she entered her apartment after work on Monday. All she had thought about since she got the highly anticipated call from Gloria was coming home and sharing the good news with her kids, and Blake for the matter. As much as he wasn’t supposed to be, in just a matter of weeks, he felt like a permanent fixture in her life. She knew he wasn’t, of course. Despite his promises to visit the kids, she knew, once he returned to his normal day-to-day and they moved, it was unlikely they’d see him again. But coming home to the kids’ smiling faces and Blake to greet her felt right, regardless of how wrong it might be.
So as she unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside, she ignored the little voice inside her head that told her she shouldn’t feel something for Blake when it would only end in heartache. Instead, she allowed herself the excitement of sharing the news with him and the kids.
When she entered, she found them easily. All four sat at the kitchen table. A plate of orange slices sat in front of each of her kids, along with a box of crayons and paper. Mel’s heart leapt in her chest as all eyes turned on her—particularly the set of espresso brown ones beneath beautifully arched brows.
She glanced away, meeting each of their expectant gazes before she said, “Guess what?”
The kids smiled, catching on. They loved this game.
“We’re getting pizza?” Brady asked. Food was always on that boy’s mind, even at four.
“Are we getting a dog?” Peter asked, beaming. He’d been stuck on the pet thing lately, and the idea of getting them a puppy for Christmas was a reality.
But Mel shook her head. “No. In a way, you’re close, though.”
“A kitty?” Kinsley asked, eyes bright.
Mel laughed. “No. But those things might be possible because . . . “
Now it was Blake’s turn to grin as he said, “You got the house.”
“Yes!” Mel squealed and did a little jump. “We got the house.” She raised her hands in the air as the children jumped from their seats and plowed into her legs.
Blake stood, crossing the room, his mouth spread into a glorious smile. “Congratulations.” Then he reached out, and much to her surprise, pulled her into a hug with the children between them.
Mel’s breath caught, and her heart pounded embarrassingly hard in her chest. So much so, she was sure he could feel it.
“So what are we doing to celebrate?” he asked, and the warmth of his breath caressed the shell of her ear, making her shiver before he pulled back. The fact that he included himself in said celebrating was not lost on her.
Below them, Brady screamed, “Pizza!”
Blake stepped back and caught met Mel’s gaze before they burst into laughter.
Blake bent down and ruffled his hair. “Pizza it is,” Blake said.
AFTER THE KIDS WERE tucked away, nice and cozy in their beds, Mel stood beside Blake at the sink, while he insisted on washing the dishes and she dried.
It was quiet, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock in the living room. With his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, Blake reached into the soapy sink water and pulled out a dish, washing it clean, then rinsing and handing it over.
Their fingers brushed as Mel took the plate from him, a jolt of electricity zipping down her arm at the contact. Their eyes met, and she glanced away again. “Just think, in a little over a month, I won’t have to do this by hand anymore.”
“Braggart,” Blake teased.
Mel glanced up at him and grinned. “I bet your place has a dishwasher.”
“It’s a waste for just one person.” He scrubbed another dish, rinsed then handed it over.
Mel pictured his apartment. If it was as she imagined, it was decidedly male with dark colors, and she bet it smelled like him—like cut wood, and cinnamon, and spice.
Mel sighed, hating that an inside, more intimate look at his life wasn’t a part of the deal. She had yet to ask him about Jen, partly because it wasn’t her place and partly because she was afraid to hear the answer. If things had gotten better, she’d be happy for him, but she couldn’t deny the twinge of disappointment she’d feel, no matter how absurd. And if things had worsened, she’d feel partially responsible due to hijacking his personal life to an extent. Tonight was merely another example of how he’d spent time with them when he probably should’ve been elsewhere. It made her wonder. Why was he spending any free time at all with her?
She peeked up at him and caught him staring. Her cheeks flushed, and he turned to her. His lips parted, and by the look of him, he had something he wanted to say.
“I think we should do something further to celebrate. Go out,” he said and shrugged. “Without the kids,” he added, then busied himself with drying his hands on a nearby towel. He seemed jittery, suddenly, nervous, almost. The notion alone both thrilled and perplexed her.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, because, really, she had no idea. Unless she was missing something, he couldn’t possibly mean a date. Unless . . .
She didn’t even give herself time to entertain the thought he may have broken up with Jen. That line of thought would only get her hurt. Hope could be dangerous.
“I have an idea. It’s nothing major, but maybe we could do some window shopping for your new place. We should go to Highland Park though. Then we could catch dinner. It’ll give you a chance to pick out some things for the house and see what the area has to offer. “What do you say?”
Mel bit her lip. She wouldn’t dare tell him she didn’t have the money for new things for the house, at least not at the moment. Between closing costs and a small down payment, it was wiping her savings clean. The only things she’d reserved extra money for were new beds for the kids. “Okay, but what about a sitter?” she asked.
“What about your friends at work? If not, I could ask my brother. He may not be the best with kids, but he’s trustworthy.” Blake laughed.
“Is that the guy you were with that day at The Burnt Bean?”
“The one and only.”
Mel snickered. “I’m sure he’d jump at the chance.” Then she leaned back against the counter and grinned. “I think traumatizing one Britton is enough. I’ll see what the girls say,” she said, because as he stared down at her, his eyes shining, his smile wide, how could she say no?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MEL
“Are you sure you can handle this?” Mel asked, eyeing Marti like at any minute she might change her mind and bail.
Marti opened her mouth to answer, but a knock on the door interrupted her. “Coming,” Mel yelled, then turned back to Marti once more. It was Friday, her night out with Blake, and she was having second thoughts. “That’s him,” she said, twisting her hands in front of her.
“I figured.” Marti grinned and gripped Mel’s shoulders, then turned her toward the door. “I’ve got this. It’s only one night. You go and enjoy yourself.”
“Thank goodness this isn’t a date, or I’d be so nervous,” Mel said as she stumbled over her own feet.
Marti chuckled. “Right. You’re going out with a hot guy alone. I’m sure it’s not a date.” She rolled her eyes as Mel slipped her jacket off the hook next to the door, frowning.
“He has a girlfriend,” Mel reminded her.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Have you asked him recently? Last you heard, there was trouble in paradise, and the next thing you know, he’s asking his hot boss out.” Marti wiggled her brows. “Seems pretty clear to me.”
Mel scowled. It wasn’t exactly out of the realm of possibility.
Great. Now she’d be thinking about that all night, wondering if he was still with her and whether he thought this was a date instead of just enjoying herself.
With a sigh, she glanced at the couch and watched as Brady tackled Peter, who howled in outrage. Meanwhile, Kinsley just barely missed a foot to the head.
Mel winced. “You better . . .” She motioned in their direction.
Marti followed with her gaze and grimaced.
“I owe you,” Mel called out as she placed one hand on the door.
“You don’t,” Marti called behind her as she wedged herself between Brady and Peter. “This is what friends are for. Besides, I’m bailing on the PopNewz party tomorrow, remember? So it’s the least I can do.”