Page 74

Marlow

The rays of dawn sneak in through the cracks in the curtains, stirring me awake.

The eviction notice.

The realization that my dad has managed to screw me over once again.

The fries that Jackson so kindly let me eat all of.

Everything comes back in a rush that has me conflicted to what I should be feeling. I don’t remember the last time I was this happy, and that’s because of Jackson. But then the reality of my situation returns and dumps water all over everything.

My last memory had me safe in Jackson’s arms when he finally forced me back to bed to rest, but I’m not prepared for what this day has in store for me and can’t stave off the tears any longer. But an empty space in bed and an abandoned pillow in the light of the new day feels monumentally worse.

While rubbing my eyes, I can clearly acknowledge that I’ve messed my priorities up. A lot like my life.

I’m not sure where Jackson went or even when he left. I don’t think it could’ve been long, and giving him the benefit of the doubt, I bet he just wanted me to get more rest. It’s not something I would have previously admitted, not even to myself, but I miss him.

The only reason I got any sleep was because he was with me. I’m hoping that him leaving doesn’t mean we’re starting at square one again. I don’t know what I would do without him.

What I do know, though, is that he said he wanted me to move in with him and live with him. His conviction was a command that I agreed to last night after I saw the determination in his eyes. He didn’t hesitate to offer me a place to stay, but he did it with full intention.

So I don’t know where he is this morning, but I know it’s not because he changed his mind.

I roll out of bed and check my phone. No messages.

I text Jackson instead: Morning.

When the dots don’t appear, I set it down and go into the bathroom to fix the rat’s nest of hair I twisted into a scrunchie on top of my head.

Taking a comb, I start working out the tangles.

I can’t help but notice the dark circles under my eyes and how my skin is a little sallow.

Stress does that. And here I thought ignoring my problems for so long would allow me to work them out. The opposite happened.

My fate is now sealed when it comes to the apartment. There’s nothing left to do but sell everything and move. After going through my weekday morning routine, I call into work to let them know I won’t be in today or tomorrow. I’ll make up for it this weekend by going in.

Jeans, a tank top, and a cozy sweatshirt are my comfy choices to get me through this move. A knock echoes through the apartment. I rush to answer it, hoping it’s Jackson. A quick peek reveals his grin.

I open the door.

With a dolly tucked under his arm, he grins as if the sunshine injected the brightness right in. “Good morning.”

“You sure are chipper this morning.”

“It’s a great day.” He gives me a little wink, the flirt, and then kicks the dolly to balance it on its wheels. “You ready to move into my place?”

“I am.” I think. No use putting that last part out into the universe.

It will only stir up trouble. Especially because I have no clue if we should be doing this, but I also have no doubt about this transition.

I’ve never lived with a man before. Should I be worried about how this will affect us?

I say, “I know you like your space and work a lot at night. I promise not to get in your way or be an imposition.” I hold the door open for him. He pulls the dolly over the threshold.

“You’d never be an imposition, Marlow.” He kisses my head and then passes in front of me. He can’t even restrain his smile, like it’s absolutely impossible for him. I roll my eyes before smiling as well.

A smile is the last thing I would think I’d be able to manage while hitting rock bottom, but he has a gift, and his happiness is contagious. How can I possibly be mad when he’s so happy to have me move in?

The bottom line— I can’t .

Even when I have so much to be nervous about regarding the uncertainty in my future, this man . . . this man has me sharing in his excitement.

“It’s only temporary, and then you’ll have your life back.”

He stops and looks back once he reaches the living room. “There’s no hurry. You can stay for as long as you’d like.”

A bashfulness sweeps through me, and my face flushes. I don’t think I could invent a more amazing man. “Thank you, Jackson. I appreciate that.” Shutting the door, I ask, “You don’t have to go to work?”

“I’ve cleared my schedule. This is more important. And,” he says, shrugging, “I couldn’t wait to get you over to my place.”

I stop when a crazy idea enters my head. “Wait, do you think you’re getting sex on tap or something?”

Chuckling, he replies, “No, but a man can dream.” He clicks his tongue. I have a feeling he’s seeing the upside to my predicament, and I can admit, I’m starting to see the same.

I roll my eyes, though, because I can’t make it that easy on him.

But now I’m thinking about that aspect of the arrangement, too.

This might be a better idea than I could have ever plotted on my own.

Think of the time we’ll save by not having to travel back and forth to each other’s places.

I mean, logistically speaking. “I only have a few boxes, so where do you think we should begin?”

“The bedroom.” Packing never sounded so sexy.

“If we start there, we might not get very far. Not that I’d be upset about that or anything.”

He rests his arms across the top of the dolly and laughs. “You don’t think you’re getting sex on tap, do you?”

“Touché, St. James.”

“Because you can. I’m happy to give you orgasms. Anytime. Day or night.”

He’s incorrigible. I laugh, still thinking about that tap, but then start to stare at him a little differently.

The offer of orgasms is nice, but this is real.

I’m about to move in with him. Instead of fear or worry, though, a thrill runs up my spine.

“Good to know,” I mumble and then bite my bottom lip. I’m moving in with Jackson St. James.

This is a turn of events I never saw coming. And I’m not upset about it one bit.

With a wave of his arm in front of him, he says, “After you.”

But I still need to focus on my goals. The last thing I ever want to be is a burden. Cutting across the room, I start down the short hallway. “How are we going to do this all on our own?”

“We’re not,” he says, “I hired a crew. They’ll be here in two hours, so we better get to work.”

It helped that I’d been making some progress over the past few months by clearing out some of the clutter and crap, packing my most treasured possessions besides the ones I need to sell.

The movers blew through the door and made quick work of packing my two paintings that I’d purchased over the years from favorite up-and-coming artists I’d met to the drawings that date back to the renaissance. They were extra careful with my Tiffany vase that my mother gave me when I turned ten.

Holding it in my arms, I decide it’s probably best if I transport it.

“Hello?”

“In here,” I call when I hear Tealey walk through the door.

She finds me in the second bedroom, angling around the corner. “The place is almost empty.”

I close the flaps on a box. “Jackson took charge.”

“Impressive.”

Taping the box closed, I ask, “What brings you by?”

She holds up two boxes. “I brought coffee and donuts, but I might be too late.”

I cross the room and take the donuts. “Thanks. You brought them just in time. I’m starving.” I start to laugh as we walk into the kitchen. “The roles have reversed.”

Her eyes light up. “That’s right. You brought coffee when I moved out of my last place.” She starts laughing. “Instead of helping.”

I hop up on the counter. “Consolation prize?”

“Nice try.”

Still giggling, I lift the lid to the box and am greeted with the prettiest confections. Just as I choose a lemon frosted cake donut, she asks, “Where’s Jackson?”

“He’s supervising over at his place.” I greedily take a bite.

Taking one of the paper cups of coffee, she takes a sip, and then asks, “Where are you putting all the furniture?”

“The couch, coffee table, chairs, and dining room table were sold to a neighbor on the twelfth floor.”

“Already?”

I lick the frosting from the corner of my mouth.

“She stages homes going on the market, so she’s always looking for great pieces.

I met her in the elevator a few years ago and then showed her my place.

” I pick some of the cake off and pop it into my mouth.

“She’s always loved my style, so she was happy to take the pieces to use for her business. At a discount, of course.”

“That’s a score.”

“Mm-hmm.” It’s so good, so I shove the rest of the donut into my mouth. Dusting my hands together to rid them of the sugar, I contemplate having another.

With her leaning against the peninsula, she asks, “So you’re moving in with Jackson. You know Rad and I would love to have you.”

“You’re sweet, but for one, I know Rad wouldn’t like me invading your lovebird space. Two, he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“Really? What was the offer?”

“I get more time with him.” I smile, and my cheeks heat as I remember how Jackson stepped up for the challenge last night. The challenge being me. “I also think it’s a good fit. We’re getting along better than ever and?—”

“And you’re dating?” Her note of hope isn’t missed.

“I think defining what we are or what we’re doing might be jumping ahead a few steps.” I hop off the counter. “This may come as a surprise, but for the first time in my life, I’m okay with letting things be and letting this unfold however it’s supposed to, naturally.”

“That’s a big step, my friend. I’m happy for you.”

“You know what, Teals? For the first time, me too.” Picking up one of the cups of coffee, I turn it around in my hand, smiling to myself.

“He dropped everything for me. With less than twelve hours’ notice, he had a team organized and was ready to help me.

No questions asked. No harsh judgments. Just rolled up the sleeves and made this happen. ”

“I’m impressed but not surprised. Jackson’s always been reliable and a good guy. But it’s also quite the gesture of?—”

“Friendship.”

She starts laughing. “Yes, indeed.” Moving around the counter, she asks, “How can I help?”

To be standing in the middle of my empty apartment feels surreal.

Not mine. The bank’s.

I’ll never forget the years I lived in this palace in the sky.

I walk the perimeter of every room and meander. So many memories were made, from getting the call that I got the job at the gallery to this past summer when Jackson and I returned from the Hamptons and christened the white couch I sold this afternoon.

I remember the call I made to my dad telling him I found my dream apartment and how he outbid another potential tenant to make sure I got it.

My mom even flew in to help me decorate before she was off to her next adventure.

I think she was going to Thailand right after.

My memories from that whirlwind visit are fuzzy since she’s always traveling somewhere.

That might have been the only time she saw the place.

I don’t even know where she is. Should I send her an email to tell her what happened? I don’t think so. She’s as involved as she ever was or wanted to be. I’ve probably seen her more online or in photos for ads than I have in real life.

She abandoned me a long time ago. Giving her access to my problems will only earn me an, “I told you so.”

This is it, apartment. “So long. Farewell. It’s been nice knowing you.”

I walk to the window to take in this incredible view once more, finding it ironic that this apartment will eventually become a symbol for the time in my life when everything fell apart.

“Are you ready?”

I turn back to see Jackson standing in the doorway. A smile still shapes his expression, but it’s not as broad as before. The long day is wearing on him, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s sympathy built into the curve of his mouth.

I nod, taking one last look around, and then walk to the door with him. He takes hold of my hand. “I’m ready,” I say, closing one chapter of my life and beginning the next.