Page 174 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

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.”

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