Page 18 of My CEO Neighbor (Neighborhood Hotties #5)

Men like you. Ted couldn't argue with Monica's assessment. In her experience, men like him were exactly the kind who offered help with strings attached, who turned generosity into leverage.

"Let me explain."

"No. I'm not going to let you solve my problems so you can feel better about what happened in the elevator. I'm not going to be your guilt-management project."

Ted felt frustration rise, hot and immediate. "This isn't about guilt."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about the fact that I haven't been able to think about anything except you for the past twenty-four hours," he said.

"It's about the fact that I closed the biggest deal of my career yesterday and the only person I wanted to call was you.

It's about the fact that hearing you cry through the wall just now made me want to burn down whoever's hurting you. "

Silence.

"I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you, and I know you have every reason to tell me to go to hell. But this isn't about us. This is about you having something beautiful and meaningful that someone's trying to take away, and me having the resources to stop that from happening."

"Why?" Monica's voice was so quiet that Ted almost missed it.

"Why what?"

"Why do you care?”

Ted closed his eyes, searching for words that wouldn't sound like corporate bullshit or desperate rationalization. “You changed everything."

“What?”

"I've spent three years measuring my worth by profit margins and market share, telling myself that success was the only thing that mattered.

And then I spent hours trapped in an elevator with you, and for the first time in my adult life, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

You made me remember what it felt like to be present.

To care about things other than quarterly projections.

To want something I couldn't buy or leverage or optimize into existence. "

"What did you want?"

"You. I want you, and I want to be the kind of man who deserves you. When that elevator opened, when reality crashed back in, I panicked. I retreated into the only thing I knew how to be, and I hurt you in the process. I’m sorry."

Ted could hear Monica breathing on the other side of the door, could almost feel her presence through the wood separating them.

"I don't know how to be the man you need me to be," Ted said, the confession scraping his throat.

"I don't know how to turn off the part of my brain that treats everything like a problem to be solved.

But I know that hearing you cry made me want to fix whatever was breaking your heart, even if you never speak to me again. "

The lock clicked.

Ted stepped back as Monica opened the door. She was wearing soft gray leggings and an oversized sweater, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, no makeup to hide the redness around her eyes. She looked beautiful and heartbroken and so fucking real that Ted ached with want.

"You're an asshole," Monica said quietly.

"I know."

"You hurt me."

"I know."

"And now you think you can fix everything with your business connections and corporate problem-solving?"

Ted looked into Monica's eyes, seeing pain and hope and wariness in equal measure.

"I think I can solve one problem that has a quantifiable solution.

I can't fix what I broke between us. That's going to take more than money or connections.

But I can make sure you don't lose the business you built with your own hands. "

Monica studied his face for a long moment, and Ted felt like she was seeing through every defense he'd ever constructed.

"You don't have to see me, don't have to forgive me, don't have to pretend yesterday meant anything other than elevator insanity. I'll give you the contact information, you'll call and set up the meeting, and I'll go back to being the annoying neighbor who takes conference calls too early."

"You'd do that? Help me and then leave me alone?"

The question felt like swallowing glass. "If that's what you want."

Monica was quiet for another long moment, her eyes searching Ted's face like she was looking for some sign of deception or manipulation.

"I'm scared," she said finally.

"Of what?"

"Of needing you. Of letting you help and then having you disappear when something more important comes up." Monica's voice cracked slightly. "I'm scared that I'm not enough to compete with your real priorities."

“If you give me another chance, I’ll prove to you that you are my real priority."

"I don't know how to believe that."

"Give me a chance." Ted reached out slowly, giving Monica time to pull away, and cupped her face in his hands. "Let me help you save your studio, not because I'm trying to buy your forgiveness, but because watching you succeed is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Monica's eyes filled with tears. "What if I lose anyway? What if I'm just delaying the inevitable?"

"You’re not. You know you’re not.”

“I meant about us, not the yoga studio.”

He gave a half laugh. “Because I want to learn how to make tea the way you make it. I want to understand why talking to plants matters. I want to be someone who can sit in silence without needing to fill it with productivity."

"That's a lot of wanting," she said.

"It's the first time I've wanted anything real in three years."

Monica leaned into his touch. "I want that too," she said. "If I let you help me, if I take the contact information and call your friend, what happens next?"

"Next, you save your studio and keep teaching people how to breathe properly. Next, I learn how to be human again instead of just successful."

"And after that?"

"After that, we figure out if what happened in that elevator was real enough to survive in the daylight."

Monica's smile was shaky but genuine. "I think it might be."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But Ted?"

"What?"

"If you ever retreat into corporate asshole mode on me again, I'm going to make you meditate for six hours straight while listening to whale sounds."

Ted's laugh was surprised and delighted. "That sounds like torture."

"It's called consequences."

"I'll take it."

Monica stood on her toes and kissed him, soft and sweet and full of possibility. When they broke apart, Ted felt like he could breathe properly for the first time since the elevator doors had opened.

"Come inside," Monica said. "Tell me about your meeting yesterday. And thank you. For wanting to help, even when I was being impossible."

"You weren't being impossible. You were being smart. Most men like me are exactly what you thought I was."

"But you're not most men like you."

"How can you tell?"

Monica smiled, the expression transforming her entire face. "Because most men like you would have sent an email instead of standing in a hallway confessing their feelings to a closed door."