“I mean it, Jake.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not exactly easy.”
“It’ll get easier in time.”
He bowed his head, standing tall in his suit and coat, a handsome man who smelled like sex and money. He was a billionaire like most of my clients, and he was so down-to-earth and handsome that I’d dropped my guard. I’d gone to drop off something one afternoon, and he was there, in just a towel after getting out of the shower. And before I knew it…it happened. It was wrong at the time, which was probably why it was so much fun, and I was a bit reckless because I was in such a bad place in my life. But now it was just a stupid mistake that I hated myself for making. “What if I get divorced and then move out of the building—”
“I’ll never be with a cheater.”
He raised his head, his eyes narrowed in offense. “Come on, it’s not like that—”
“If you were unhappy, you should have left her. The only reason you’re leaving now is because you think you’ve found someone better. The same thing will happen to me when you get tired of me, when I’m working too much, whatever the excuse is.”
He stared at me for a long time, taking a deep breath like it hurt his lungs to breathe. “Man, he really messed you up…”
I continued to maintain my fearless gaze, wide awake at this point. “I’m not going to change my mind, Jake. Leave your wife or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m not an option for you.” I walked around him and headed to the door. “Now, please go.”
He didn’t move for a while, his back to me, standing in my apartment with his broad shoulders as their own skyscraper. Then he turned around and walked to me at the door, looking at me with an emotional expression, as if walking away from me was actually hard, as if we may have really had something. He seemed like he might hug me, might kiss me, but he probably knew the attempt would only result in rejection. Wordlessly, he turned and left, his dress shoes tapping against the wood in the hallway.
Then I shut the door on him—for good.
Deacon’s texts were just as demanding as he was in person. Where are my clubs?
I’d just planted my ass in the chair in my office, getting a late start after the circus sideshow with Jake. Sometimes my clients emailed me with errands, but those usually weren’t time sensitive. If they wanted me to pull an instant magic trick, they texted me. And I pulled a rabbit out of my ass. I’m on my way up. I turned to Matt. “Hey, where’s Hamilton’s clubs?”
He’d just returned from another errand, a little red in the face from running around. “Uh, I think they’re in the back. I’ll grab them.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure if the bag had a wheel on the bottom so they could be pulled. If not, they would be too heavy for me, and I’d have to pull out our big-ass cart from the back. The phone on the counter rang, and I snatched it quickly. “It’s Cleo.”
Barbara was hysterical over the line. “There’s something wrong with my toilet. The water is running everywhere!”
“It’s probably just clogged—”
“No, it’s filled my entire bathroom and is leaking into the hallway.”
She had a big-ass bathroom, so that was a serious flood. “I’ll be right there.” I hung up. “Matt!” He came back. “Barbara is having a serious tank issue. Grab all your stuff. Let’s go.”
“What about the clubs?” He leaned them against the counter then grabbed all his tools from the cabinet.
“I can’t think about that right now. Let’s go.”
It took nearly two hours to handle Barbara’s toilet problem.
Matt was a contractor who knew a lot about everything, from plumbing to electricity, so he could take care of most problems since they usually weren’t that complicated. When they were complicated, we called in the professionals.
Matt was able to fix the issue, and I cleaned up the enormous mess it had caused.
It took fifteen minutes of scrubbing to get the smell out of my hands.
By the time we were done, I fell into my chair and didn’t want to get up again.
And then I noticed the clubs.
My phone was sitting on the desk where I’d left it, because I didn’t want to expose it to the shit water and accidentally drop it. I didn’t look at it now, knowing Deacon had probably sent me a series of texts that were aggressive and bossy.
Matt had just carried his tools to the cabinet, tired from being bent over on the floor for the last few hours.
So, I grabbed the clubs myself.
Thankfully, there was a wheel on the bottom.
I took it by the handle and rolled it to the elevator and got inside. The clubs had been opened so they were ready to go because I doubted Deacon wanted to return them. They were the best I could find—with an incredible price tag.