Pieces of Him (8 page)

Emelia~

I’m exhausted as my first day of work comes to an end, but I’m also excited because I feel like I could do a lot of good at this center. The management is amazing and the staff was extremely welcoming. They seem to really care about the work they do and that helped ease some of my anxiety I had going into this. The only kink in my day was the obnoxious flower delivery I got from Garrett this morning. It’s a typical move for Garrett, exactly his style. A month before I up and moved to New Jersey, I made the decision to end things with Garrett. I had toyed around with that decision for a long time but had never worked up the nerve to do it with any finality. I gave him a chance because I felt pressured. He wasn’t my choice, and it’s shallow, I know, but at the very least, he wasn’t hard to look at. The thing is he never made me feel … well, anything. Being with him was like being with any random person I’d just met. There was no spark, no chemistry, no fireworks, and if I had to guess, there are a few reasons for this. First, he’s always been too worried about his image. He’d never do anything out in public that would make him look anything less than refined and cultured. He’s so far up his father’s ass that I doubt he can even see straight. He’s likely never had an original thought in his entire life. I could go on, but I think all of that says enough about him.

So flowers from him on the first day … flowers from him any day are an unwelcome surprise. Did he honestly think I would want to have even more of a spotlight put on me on day one at a new job in a new city? It was actually embarrassing, bringing more attention to myself when I honestly just wanted to blend in. I’m thinking about this when I leave the center, purse hiked over my shoulder, car keys in one hand and flowers in the other. I’m thinking about this when my car comes into view and I see Garrett leaning against it arms crossed over his chest and a cocky grin on his face.

“Shit,”
I curse under my breath as I approach him, careful not to stand too close. I’m hoping that the distance I keep between us is an indication of the state of things.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

I breathe through the urge to spit fire at him. “What are you doing here, Garrett?”

“I wanted to surprise you on your first day.” He tilts his head and reaches out his hand in an attempt to grab me. I take a step to the right and out of his reach. His eyes on me glisten with humor in the late afternoon sunlight. Typical. He thinks I like to play a game with him, that I enjoy playing hard to get and making him work for it.

“I think your flowers were enough of a surprise,” I say pushing the bouquet into his chest.

“What you didn’t like them?” he asks clueless as ever, his hand coming up to hold the bouquet in order to keep them from falling. He thinks that any attention he gives a woman is good attention because he’s under the assumption that he’s God’s gift to women. He doesn’t get that he’s not quite as charming as he thinks he is.

“They were totally unnecessary and inappropriate.”

“Oh, come on, Emelia. Don’t start. Only you would take a nice gesture and turn it into something bad.”

“We broke up. That means you stay away from me and I stay away from you. You don’t text me, you don’t call me, email me, or send smoke signals.” I gesture wildly with my hands. “You don’t send me flowers, and most importantly, you don’t show up at my job.”

“Clearly, you’re having another one of your episodes,” he says looking more and more annoyed by the second.

“An
episode
?” It takes effort to keep from yelling at him. I’m so tired of people telling me how I should behave. How I should just be a mindless socialite like my mother, be the perfect little rich girl and keep up appearances. I should never have an opinion of my own, never disagree, and always do as I’m told.

“Let’s get in my car, you can show me your apartment, I’ll take you to an early dinner, and then you can say thank you properly,” he says tipping my chin up so that our eyes lock. Determination fills his gaze while disgust fills mine. I jerk my head trying to get away, but he tightens his hold on me, digging his fingers into my face painfully.

“Let. Go. Of. Me,” I demand, keeping my voice strong even though his aggressiveness has shocked me. I’ve seen his patience slip before, seen him get in my face, but he’s never put his hands on me before.

“You know I’ve never admitted it, but I kind of like it when you’re like this. I like when you put up a fight because when you give in … and trust me, you will give in, it’ll make the victory that much sweeter,
babe.”
He says the babe in a mocking tone, one that pisses me the fuck off, and I manage to pull away from him.

I should get in my car and leave, put as much distance between us as I can, but the false bravado kicks in.

“Fuck you, Garrett. Go home and take your fucking flowers with you. I would never go back to you.”

He tosses the flowers on the pavement, and before I know it, he advances on me backing me up into my car where he cages me in.

“Back away,” I say on a broken whisper, all hints of bravery gone. His hand comes up and fists around my neck effectively shutting me the fuck up and scaring the living hell out of me.

“You don’t have Daddy here to protect you anymore, Emelia. You wanted to be on your own then you’re going to need to learn how to fight your own battles. You want to fight me, fine. You do it … I guarantee you, you’ll lose.” He smiles, releasing me and taking a step back. My hand involuntarily goes to my neck, and I let out a breath.

“Stay the fuck away from me. We’re so done.”

He juts his chin out, and it’s as if he’s accepting the challenge. A challenge I don’t want to be a part of.

“We’ll see,” is all he says before turning and walking away. When I look down at the flowers, my first thought is to want to leave them there, pull my car out of my parking spot, and run them over, but one of my coworkers might see them on the floor and ask questions. Instead, I pick them up, toss them in my backseat, and make a mental note to throw them in the first trash bin I come across. I’m on edge the entire drive home, carefully watching the rearview mirror and hoping Garrett isn’t following me. In all of my dealings with him—the good and bad times—I can’t recall a time I ever felt particularly scared of him. Not until today. It makes me think that maybe everyone underestimates him; maybe he’s just as shrewd and ruthless as his father is. I make the decision to call my father tonight and let him know what’s going on. He’ll make sure that Garrett stays away from me. I’m not normally the type to run to Daddy with all of my problems, but I’m not about to fuck around with this shit. Not when I’m out here on my own. He needs to know if I’m potentially unsafe.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach my building and pull into the parking lot. Without delay, I grab my things and hustle into the building, dropping the flowers in the receptacle outside. Once I’m in my apartment, I change out of my work clothes and into a comfy pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I nuke a leftover slice of pizza and turn on the television. It’s lame, I know, but the noise helps me to feel a little less lonely. It always has. People, staff, family, and friends chosen by my mother have surrounded me all my life, but it doesn’t change the fact I’ve always felt lonely. I don’t really have an explanation for it; it’s just always been that way with me. The few times I haven’t felt that way have been the times I’ve spent in recent years with my father and sister.

I spot the yellow gift bag on the kitchen counter thinking that maybe I should go over and give it to the neighbors. I spotted the man again yesterday, this time in the parking lot; he was coming in the building with the baby. I felt a sense of relief when I saw that my suspicions were wrong and the baby was okay. I didn’t see the woman again, but I figured she’d likely gone in ahead of them. After seeing that, the conversation I had earlier in the day with Hannah about making new friends popped into my head, so I dropped by a baby store during lunch today and picked up a small gift. I figure now’s as good a time as any, so I move to the kitchen, pick up the gift bag, and head over to their apartment.

I knock on the door feeling all kinds of stupid for coming over here, but it’s the neighborly thing to do, right? I wait but there’s no answer, and I’m almost relieved that no one is home. It would have sucked if he had answered the door. It could have been embarrassing, especially after he caught me in the hallway after he had his thing yesterday. I’m sure it would have been awkward for both of us. I’m just about to turn and walk back to my apartment when the door abruptly opens.

“Yeah?”

It’s him. Of course, it had to be him. Why wouldn’t it be him? This is confirmation of the universe’s constant need to fuck with me. He’s staring at me impatiently, and I can’t help but to give him a once-over. What I notice is that my original assessment of him was slightly off. He’s not hot. He’s oh-my-effing-god hot, and I decide instantly that there’s no way in hell I could ever be friends with his wife because I’d spend my time with her silently lusting after her husband. From my estimation, I’d guess that he’s easily around six-foot-one, muscular, but not overly. You can see just the right amount of muscle tone under his dark gray Henley. His powerful thighs fill his jeans to perfection. I look up noticing that his thick, dark brown hair has just a hint of a wave. The kind that makes you think that maybe he’s slightly overdue for a haircut but you’d like to run your fingers through it anyway. His eyes are a milky colored brown and rimmed with impossibly long lashes. I’m not sure with the dim lighting in this hallway, but I swear I can almost see traces of green in them. He’s just … wow.

“Can I help you?” he asks, pulling me out of my standing coma and clearly losing patience with me.

“Um, hi,” I say with a slight wave.
Jesus, I’m a dork.
“I’m Emelia. I just moved in across the hall from you.”

His eyes go to my closed front door and then come back to me. With absolutely no mercy, he mutters, “Yeah, the old guy who lived there finally kicked the bucket.”

“The previous tenant passed away?” I ask hesitantly.

“Yeah,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” I say all the while thinking that this is just great, that’s all I fucking need is to be haunted by the ghost of a dead guy. “Did he die in the actual apartment?”

“No clue,” he says reaching for something in his apartment and producing a jacket that he wastes no time in putting on. I shake off my shock at the news of a possible death in my apartment and give him a smile.

“Right. Well, anyway. I know you and your wife just had a baby, and I just thought I’d drop by and bring you a little something to say congrats.”

“I don’t have a wife.”

God! This guy doesn’t make having a conversation easy. “Oh. Okay, then your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” This piques my interest a little too much. He seems like a bit of an asshole, but Jesus Christ, he’s beautiful. I find myself needing to know what the deal is, even though it’s absolutely none of my business. I know I should just leave it alone, but instead, I press on.

“Ah, I saw her last week. I just assumed, and then I saw you with the baby. I guess I thought …”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend, and she’s gone now, so ...” he says reaching over to a small table by the entryway and grabbing a set of keys.

“She left you? With a baby?”

“Wasn’t her choice seeing as though she died.” He responds brusquely, and I gasp feeling horrible and astonished by the news he’s just delivered. I can’t explain why it makes me so sad that she’s passed away since I didn’t know her. I didn’t know anything about her, yet she was so young and she left behind a precious baby. How could it not make me sad?

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He cuts me off. I watch his face searching for a reaction, looking for any hint of emotion at all, but he doesn’t give me one. Instead, he turns and walks inside letting the door open up, allowing me a better view inside. Whatever mess he made when he had his outburst yesterday has been cleared away and in its place is a nice apartment complete with all the necessary baby items. He picks up the baby carrier with the cutest little boy I’ve ever seen sleeping in it and comes back to me. “Listen, I’m just on my way out,” he says, placing the carrier down next to him.

“Of course,” I say quickly handing him the gift bag and moving back. He takes it and puts it down on the floor off to the side of the doorway. “Listen, I know you don’t know me, but if there’s anything you need, if there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to knock on my door.”