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“See you tomorrow!” I shout to him with a smile as I step into the elevator and watch the numbers as it climbs to my level.
Opening the door to my apartment, the first thing I feel is relief. Relief that it looks just how I left it and relieved to be home. I fling my bag against the wall, kick off my shoes, and let my feet sink into the thick carpet. My eyes then catch the enormous basket on the kitchen counter.
“What the?” I murmur and walk over.
The basket is from the building owners again, apologizing for the faulty tapware. It is massive. Full to the brim of food and snacks. My stomach rumbles just at the sight. I see another box of those yummy cookies and know I will devour the entire box for dinner tonight. There is also wine, chocolate, some Mediterranean olives, breads, and dips. This could feed me for a week, and although I have a cupboard full of packet noodles, I almost cry with joy at the selection of food now available to me. If I ration it out just right, I think this will see me through to payday. I nearly cry.
I know all this is because of Eddie. He must have told them about the water issue. My thoughts from earlier start circling my brain again. No one has ever done a nice thing for me, not without expecting something in return, and I don’t like feeling as though I am in debt to him. I already feel like I owe him after he brought me a coffee this morning. I know that he got it from a fancy shop too, because I walked past it on the way to work this morning, the logo on the window matching the one on the cup in my hand.
As I open the basket, my mind continues to drift to his half-naked frame yesterday. I remember it vividly because I have never seen a body like it. Strong. Fit. Clean without tattoos. Too perfect. Shaking my head, I brush those ridiculous thoughts aside. I can’t go daydreaming about a random maintenance man.
I don’t date anyone, and I am also not really wired to do anything casual. A few one-night stands are more than enough for me. The feeling of being discarded afterward brings back childhood memories of never being wanted. Hence why I have been perpetually single for years. Of course, like most young women, I’ve always dreamed of a beautiful married life, with kids, and maybe a dog, laughing every day with a man who loves me more than life itself. But I am a realist. I know they are just dreams. And my life has taught me that dreams don’t come true for a girl like me. Dreams can be dangerous. You get attached to people, and they constantly let you down. I can’t go thinking my life is anything other than what I have now, and already, that is more than I ever imagined.
I pull out the cookie box from the basket and take it to the sofa to eat away these rising feelings. Sighing, I think about my day, wondering how I am going to get through another twelve-hour shift tomorrow. But the bright side is that I met Tracey and am now a volunteer in the neonatal ward, the one area that really makes me feel at ease.
Since I had already provided reference checks for the hospital, it was easy for Tracey to allocate me a few hours per week. Working with babies is not new for me. I was a cuddler at the previous hospital I worked at, and I am glad to have the opportunity to do it again.
I tilt my head side to side and roll my shoulders, hearing my bones creak before I mold my body into the soft sofa. My feet ache, so I throw another cookie in my mouth and lift them up off the floor, but as I do, my foot spasms.
“Argghhhh,” I scream out to my empty apartment as the cramp overtakes my foot, like an invisible zombie is twisting it in all different directions, yet it is almost frozen. I pause. Too scared to move. I have had cramps before, they are nothing new. Obviously, I have been on my feet for too long today. Looking down at them, they are red, the toes a little swollen. I have no idea how many steps I did today, but my feet are feeling every single one of them.
I gingerly place it down so I can stretch it out. Pulling on my toes, I push past the initial pain and lean into the stretch, slowly releasing my breath. My body relaxes as the muscles flex out and the cramp disappears. I slump back, wondering how my body can feel like it is eighty today.
I need a bath, then bed. I already know tomorrow is going to be even worse. But at least I get delicious cookies, and tomorrow, I can cuddle a baby.
CHAPTER SIX - EDDIE
“Thanks, Miranda,” I murmur as my assistant positions a steaming cup of coffee on my desk in front of me. I appreciate her. She runs my schedule and keeps things moving, but my eyes don’t leave the contract in front of me. It’s for a new development we just completed in Singapore, and I just need to sign this off before my team can start filling it with tenants.
“Do you need anythi—” Miranda starts but doesn’t get to finish her question before my mother stalks in the door.
“Seriously, does no one work in this place? No one was at reception, and clearly, you are not at your desk,” my mother says, giving Miranda the evil eye. My assistant looks like she has seen a ghost, my mother’s mere presence enough to scare most people.
“Thanks, Miranda,” I grit out my frustrations, ready to climb the walls at my mother’s sudden appearance. I throw my pen on the desk and lean back in my chair, looking at my mom as she takes a seat opposite me with a grin on her face, looking all too pleased with herself.
“You heard. Close the door on your way out,” my mother berates her.
“Mom. Enough!” I bark at her as Miranda stalks out of my office. Mom sits up straight, shocked at my tone. This is the first time in a long time she has been here, and the way she walks in like she owns the place makes me unsettled. She has something planned. I can already feel it.
“So, Edward, I have a list for you,” she says, grabbing a piece of paper from her handbag and passing it across my desk to me. She is smug, and I don’t like it.
“What kind of list?” I ask having no idea what she is talking about. I only saw her at brunch last week and she didn’t say anything about stopping by. I’d remember because I would have made sure to be unavailable had she mentioned it.
“A list of single females in Baltimore who are worthy to have our last name,” she says, cuffing her hands together on her lap, sitting forward in her seat, obviously looking for praise that she isn’t going to find. I take the paper from her, and without looking at it, I leave it on my desk.
“Mom, I don’t—” I start, the tension in my neck already building.
“Edward. I gave you a month. A week has already gone by. I just want you to look at the potential list of women I have put together and see if anyone catches your eye.”
“I can already tell you, none of them do.” I know everyone in Baltimore. Or at least, I know the types. Everyone here knows us. They know our name, our financial situation. My brother is the fucking governor. Our faces come up regularly in the Society News, on social media, fucking everywhere. The women in this city already know everything about me, which means they will be interested in me for who theythink I am, not who I really am. There is no one suitable in this city for me, and I am one hundred percent confident that whatever names she has on this paper are most certainly not the woman for me.
“But you haven't even looked at the list!” She waves her hands before her, not able to accept I am not doing what she is asking.
“I am not ready to settle down,” I lie, but she doesn’t believe it either.
“You need to find someone,” she pushes, her shoulders now tightening. I am waiting for her outburst. She is normally not so quiet.
“No. I. Don’t.” I punch out the words as I grip on to my desk, and I see her straighten even more as she rubs her upper arm. “Are you cold?” I ask because it is an odd move. It is unseasonably warm in Baltimore today.
