Undersold (11 page)

I think I stared at his message for ten minutes, uncomprehending. It was a combination of alcohol and shock that kept me from responding right away. Eventually, Darcy dragged me outside.

“What’s going on, Amy? You keep staring at your phone.” The line to the bar was thinning out, but drunken groups of people stood around smoking or walking in every direction. Somewhere in this city, the man I wanted more than anyone else was waiting for my response, and I had no idea what that response would be.

“I got a message. Something I didn’t expect,” I said, trying to be vague.

“What’s it say?” She went to grab my phone.

Normally, I would have let her see it. She would be the perfect person to bounce my ideas off of, but I knew I couldn’t do that, not at this point. I pulled it away as fast as I could and shoved it into my bag. Her expression was pure surprise.

“Amy, what’s going on? You’ve been so weird lately. You’re obviously hiding something from me.” I knew she was right, but how could I explain?

“I know Darc, I’m so sorry. Look, I promise I’ll tell you what this is all about eventually. I just need to get home and process this right now, okay?”

She was quiet for a second. “That’s fine. But if you’re going to be all weird and mysterious and make me go home early, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

I laughed. Normally we’d share the bed, but if that was my punishment, then so be it.

“Alright, fine. Bed to yourself tonight.”

She grinned big. “Deal. Now let’s get a cab back to your shitty apartment.”

I
miss you.

That was all I could think to send back. Darcy snored in my bedroom, and I laid out on my tiny couch in sweats, wrapped in an old blanket. My stomach was in knots waiting for his reply.

I miss you too. Can we meet tomorrow?

I wanted to, I was positive about that at least. I was angry, I was hurt, but I also wanted to know why he had disappeared. I needed to know if it was my fault, and if he could forgive me for breaking his rules.

Yes, we can. I want to see you
.
I really want to see you
.

I’ll send a car for you in the morning. Does 10 work?

Let’s make it later, around 2, if that’s OK. My friend is here visiting and we have breakfast plans.

I’ll see you then.

I scrolled through my pictures and pulled up the first one he sent me. It felt like forever ago, when he was still the mysterious stranger I met online. I looked at the clean lines of his form, the way his body flowed perfectly into itself, and I couldn’t help but remember him deep inside of me, whispering into my ear.

I fell asleep with my phone in hand, dreaming of what he’d say.

––––––––

T
he next morning, Darcy and I went out to brunch at a local place called Honey’s. The food was always good, but it was packed. We didn’t talk much; Darcy was hungover, and I was brooding about my date with Shane.

“So any more info on your mysterious freakout last night?” Darcy asked through a mouth full of French toast.

“It was not a freakout.” I stabbed at my pancakes.

“It was totally a freakout, but whatever. I’m not upset about it.”

“Sorry. I still can’t talk about it, but I will eventually.”

Her faced turned serious. “I know, kiddo. I understand. I just hope you’re not doing something stupid.”

I smiled reassuringly. “I’m not, honestly. It’s totally fine.”

“Look, if you’re ever in trouble, or need help, or whatever, call me. I know it doesn’t need saying, but this shady stuff has me worried, so there it is.”

I laughed. “It’s not that shady, but thanks.”

“Any time.” She went back to eating, visibly willing her hangover away.

After that, things were much more comfortable between us. I felt a little guilty for leading Darcy on, but I couldn’t break Shane’s confidence, so I figured this was the best I could do. She was a great friend, and an understanding person. I knew we’d be fine.

A huge part of me thought eventually Shane would be fine with me telling people, which meant I wasn’t completely lying to her. I mean, we couldn’t be secret lovers forever, could we? I didn’t think so, but anything was possible with a man like Shane Green.

After brunch, Darcy left to catch her train back to the city, and I went back to my apartment to get ready. I didn’t have much time, so I threw on the first outfit I could find, jeans and a navy blouse, a little angry that I hadn’t given myself more space to get dressed. By the time I was finished changing, my buzzer rang, which meant the car was outside.

It felt strange going back to Shane’s place. Before, I would have been all nerves and excitement, but now I was confused. I had no idea what was waiting for me, whether he was furious with me still for having broken his rules, or if he was having me over to make amends, or if this was some kind of weird booty call. I had no idea, but I preferred the latter two options.

We reached his house, and I rang the bell, which buzzed me in immediately. I found him alone in the kitchen, drinking something red from a tall glass.

He looked up as I walked in, and his face brightened immediately. It caught me off guard how happy he looked to see me. His handsome eyes and stubbled face took my breath away, and I realized exactly how much I needed him in that moment. Every guy from the night before was a shadow of this man sitting before me.

“Bloody Mary?” He gestured toward his drink.

“No, thanks. Why are you drinking?”

He shrugged. “This is tomato juice, but I thought you might need a little help with your hangover.”

“I’m not hungover,” I said. “And how did you know I was drinking?”

“Darcy was over, and you were texting me late. And your texts weren’t exactly grammatically correct.” He grinned.

My stomach did flips. I pulled out my phone and checked last night’s messages, and he was right: what seemed like cogent thoughts then were more like drunken scrawls, full of emboli and typos. Autocorrect was not my friend, and I cursed my phone silently.

“Alright, this is a mess,” I said, face red.

“Don’t worry about it. Take a seat.” His grin softened and he gestured at a chair.

I walked over and sat down across from him.

He took a deep breath and sighed. “I feel like all I do is apologize anymore, and I hate apologizing.” He paused and met my gaze, eyes fierce. I felt myself shrink away from his passion, overwhelmed and surprised. “I’m sorry, Amy. Again, I’m sorry.”

I nodded but stayed quiet.

“I know it was wrong of me to leave like that,” he went on. “Janice walking in on us really ... upset me. You know how important my privacy is, but more than that, you’re an employee, and performing sexual favors for your boss is usually a huge ethical issue. I know you weren’t doing it for that reason, but to Janice it may have looked that way.”

I blinked. I never imagined it could have been taken that way. I definitely wasn’t doing it to get ahead. If anything, I was the one benefiting from his body. “Did she say something to you?”

“Yes and no. I talked to her about it, and we’re all fine there. But it scared me, how much I was willing to risk for you, just to be around you. I had to get away if I was going to be able to think clearly. I should have told you this sooner.”

“I understand, I mean, I get it. But where did you go?”

“Nowhere. I was here, running through my options. And I decided something.”

“What did you decide?”

“First, can you forgive me for the way that I acted?” His flint eyes stared deeply into mine, and I didn’t have any other choice.

I hesitated, and felt my self-doubt. “Are you sure this isn’t my fault somehow?”

He looked taken aback. “No, Amy. Absolutely not. You did nothing wrong.”

“I forgive you.” I felt a little breathless, but the truth was I couldn’t say no to him, now or ever.

He took a deep breath, as if relieved. He stood and moved around the island. I watched him come toward me, broad shoulders slumped, with bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping. He stopped in front of me and took my hand.

“I want to be with you. That hasn’t changed,” he said.

“I want that too.” My heart was pounding.

“Amy, there are things about my past that you don’t know. Things that very few people know. And I will tell you all about it one day, I promise.”

What did he mean by that? A thousand questions ran through my mind. Why was he even mentioning some mysterious past if he didn’t plan on telling me? More secrets blossomed inside of him, and he felt like he was always just out of reach.

He must have read my confused look. “I’m saying that only because I trust you, and I want you to know how serious I am about this. I am trying to open myself to you, but it’s taking longer than I expected.”

I nodded. I understood that. I hadn’t told him every detail about my family yet, either. And the pressures of his life were still foreign to me, although, from having been around him the past few months, I was starting to see the immense burdens he carried, and the serious way he carried them. He asked everything of himself, and gave as freely as he could. It was part of what drew me to him so fully.

“I understand. I’m okay with that,” I said softly.

“I want to tell you at least one thing about me. You know I grew up here, in this city. What I never told you was that my dad was an alcoholic, an old school blue-collar kind of guy. Beer in hand as soon as he got home, and passed out drunk by midnight. Every single night, and sometimes during the day, too, he drank. Things got bad, toward the end. My brother hated him, more than even me and my mom did. My father hit him sometimes, and my brother would fight back.

“One day, he drank himself to death, and was gone. I was fifteen. It was hard on my mother, his death. She said he hadn’t always been that way, but all I remember is him, drunk out of his mind, yelling at my mother about the laundry. He never hit her, at least, but he never made her happy, either. We spent our days afraid of him, and I felt glad when he died. I’m ashamed of that, but I did.”

I had never heard any of this. I knew his father died when he was young; that was public knowledge. But I had no clue he was an abusive alcoholic, and I didn’t know he grew up poor, like me. I realized that nobody else but his family and me knew these details. He didn’t have anyone else close to him in his life, as far as I could tell.

I held his hand as he spoke, and didn’t interrupt him.

“I grew up poor. I’m not ashamed of that, but I don’t advertise it. I use it as a driving force, a desire to succeed. I want to give my mother the life she tried to give to us, which is why I worked so hard all my life. Success is a tool for me to provide for her. And that’s also why I stayed in Philly and made my company’s headquarters here. I wanted to give back to the city that gave me absolutely nothing. I want to make this place better for all the kids like me. That’s also why your app is so important to me personally. I want to improve the lives of low income families, particularly the kids.”

That explained a lot about everything. That’s why he wanted to spend so much time working on my app when he didn’t normally devote himself to new projects. It explained why he was so secretive and successful, and why he was a dominant force in everything he did. More than that, though, I realized how similar we were. He worked to make his mother’s life easier, while I worked to make my father’s illness as comfortable as possible.

“I guess that’s why you gave me so much attention,” I said.

He laughed. “No, that was entirely for your body.”

I blushed. “Thank you for telling me all that,” I said and squeezed his hand.

He squeezed mine back. “I want you to know me.”

I felt something inside of me break in that moment. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes, and Shane’s face dropped in surprise.

“What did I say?”

I wiped at my face and felt stupid. “Nothing, at all. It’s just, I haven’t been completely open with you, either.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.” He looked concerned, and he reached out to brush my cheek.

“I know. But I want you to hear this.” I took a deep breath. I hadn’t told anyone this story in a long time, but something about this moment compelled me to speak. He knew about my father’s cancer, of course, but I kept this from him. I don’t know why I did, maybe I was afraid of how he would react. But it was a defining moment for me, and a large part of who I was.

“When I was a kid, I got in a car accident. I know I told you that much already. What I didn’t tell you...what I couldn’t tell you...was that my mother was driving. It was late, and it was raining. I had been out at a friend’s house drinking, and she came to pick me up when I missed curfew. I was sixteen at the time, way too young, and she was pretty pissed. Well, I don’t remember how, but she lost control of the car. The police said she probably hit some water and aquaplaned. According to them, we hit a tree going pretty fast. Next thing I remember, I woke up in the hospital with my brothers and my Dad, and they told me she had died.”

I took a deep breath. He was listening attentively, and his face was a mask of concern and sadness. He squeezed my hand and that simple gesture gave me the confidence to continue my story.

“I blamed myself for a long time. It’s maybe why I don’t party much, and why I push myself to work so hard. I feel like I have to make up for her death, because if I hadn’t been such an idiot teenager that night, she never would have been out on the road.”

“You can’t think that way,” he said softly.

“I know. I know I can’t. I don’t really blame myself anymore, or at least as much as I used to. I’ll always think about it. It still drives me in a lot of ways, and it makes me the person that I am. And I wanted you to know about it, because she’s always a part of me, part of why I work so hard. Just like you work to take care of your mother, I work to remember my mother, and to make her happy, wherever she is.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. I could tell he understood. His body moved closer, and his warmth and strength were comforting presences against me.