Page 118 of The Man Upstairs

“You can ask him on Saturday.”

“Yeah. I will. I can’t wait to see what he looks like in person. I’ve got an idea in my head. One of the posh billionaire types. I’ve drawn quite a few of them.”

I wished I had some photos of Julian so she could compare the vision with the reality. I was confident he’d live up to it. Salt and pepper brilliance, with his gorgeous green eyes and his smile.

I needed to take some pictures of him, and I’d known it for days. I hadn’t done so far, because, I dunno, it felt so early. But I should do. I would start doing it. In the meantime, I only had the ones of him online, so I opted to show her some. I fished in my bag for my phone, but it was lost in the depths. I barely looked at it anymore now that Mum wasn’t in touch with me, so I hadn’t even noticed. It must be buried at the bottom, under my notebooks. Damnit, I hadn’t even thought to check the time on my phone, but it prompted Lola to look at hers.

“Fuck, it’s nearly seven. We should go. I’ve got dinner to get on. Pete will be starving.”

“Seven?! Yeah, shit. Time’s run away.”

She packed her laptop back up as I was still searching for my phone, thinking I should send Julian a message to say I was coming. I didn’t find my phone, though. I found something else first. An envelope wedged between two notebooks, right at the bottom. I opened my bag wide enough to see it. It had a scrawl on the front, Julian’s handwriting, and it was sealed tight.

For you, sweetheart. No protests, please.

That could only mean one thing. I could feel the wad of notes in there.

I didn’t open it right then, just shoved it back in my bag and set off with Lola, finally fishing out my phone and messaging Julian as we walked.I’ll be home soon xx

Lola and I separated with a hug this time, and I waved her up the street, my heart pounding as I reached the nearest tree and propped myself against it, checking the contents of the envelope while making sure I was out of anyone’s view.

He’d put four hundred in there, way more than a week’s worth of wages, and it welled me up, conflicted. A big part of me didn’t want to take it, because he did more than enough for me already, and I was his lover, not his employee, but the other part knew it was necessary. Without my pizza house shifts I hardly had any money left in my account. It would run out soon, and I’d be without a penny, unable to buy anything I needed on my own.

That wasn’t purely it, though. There was more to it than that.

I was torn about more than just the financial effect my job loss was having on me as I walked back to our block. My legs were shaking by the time I reached the main entrance, worried as to whether I was making the right decision, but fuck it. I pressed myself into the alcove to the side of the door and used one of my hairbands to bind some of the cash together, counting out the usual amount I’d hand over to my mum. She’d be needing it, especially with Trisha taking her down the pub to ease her woes. I tore out a page of my notebook and wrote her a simple message.

This is for you. To help. I love you. x

The floor was empty when I stepped up to the front door I’d called home for ever. I was able to push the money and the note through the letterbox with nobody hearing, and thank fuck for that, because it meant that Mum was probably at her work shift. I just hoped that she was ok.

I prayed that she was ok.

I’d give anything to see her again. To speak to her again. To watch shit TV and drink tea with her again.

Anything except Julian.

I was welled up with tears when I opened my new front door, caught up in a crazy combination of different emotions, all piling up together. Gratitude, relief, the loss of my mum at odds with the happiness of finding Lola, and my love for him. Julian. The man pulling me into his arms like I was his world.

“Thank you,” I said to him, through the tears, and he knew exactly what I was talking about.

He held me even tighter, planting a kiss on my head as I cried against his shirt.

“It’s yet another time you don’t need to say thank you, sweetheart. You deserve it. The pleasure is all mine.”

Chapter Thirty

Julian

I wasn’t surprisedthat Rosie was overwhelmed, given the huge turnaround her life had taken, but out of all the things she was feeling, gratitude didn’t need to be one of them. I tried to convey that as best as I could.

She calmed down quickly, and it was another glimpse at just how composed my princess was for a girl who was just eighteen years old. It was both beautiful and tragic. I could only imagine the years she’d spent in much bigger shoes than the ones she should have been wearing.

“Did you write a chapter today?” she asked, and I directed her to my laptop, in its usual spot at the dining table.

“Indeed, I did.”

If only she knew the half of it. I’d written one hell of a lot more than a single chapter, but the content wasn’t ready for her eyes. Not yet.