Page 59 of On Merit Alone
I knew he wasn’t like me. He wasn’t pathetic and alone… I felt myself swallow, the emotion of my situation compared to his playing through my brain. I knew he wasn’t like me, but I also knew that he went out of his way when I was feeling shitty more than a couple of times—alike or not.
So I would at least try once more. In case I’m the one he’s looking for right now. Since he was the one I didn’t know I was.
Me
Ira…Please?
Forcing myself, I set the phone down on the side table in the living room. Then, I curled myself up in blankets as I watched the muted TV. I didn’t want to hear this anymore. I’d heard them speculate about Ira all day. Instead, I pulled my tablet into my lap and pulled up the link Ira had sent me the day before—a video edit of me and him. Me at the game in his shoes, cheering for him with an excited look in my eye, and his cheeky ass telling the court-side reporter that he liked my shoes after the game. He’d sent it with one simple message:
Ira
See. I knew you were obsessed with me.
Yesterday, it made me groan in frustration and disbelief.Whoever had put the ridiculous thing together sure did take some creative liberties with Ira and I’s relationship.
But today, it just made me laugh and sort of made me miss him. I curled up with the stupid video and watched it on repeat. Slowly drifting from exhaustion and worry, I snuggled into the couch alone.
When I blinked my eyes open, who knows how much time later, it was to a message coming through on my falling tablet. A message from him.
Ira
Come over.
Chapter Eighteen
Merit
If it were anyone else,I wouldn’t have waited until I pulled into the man’s humongous driveway to interpret the possible meanings of his “come over” text. If it were anyone else, I probably wouldn’t be going at all.
But it wasn’t just anyone, it was Ira.
So, pulling into the literal mansion-sized family home at the end of a large, secluded drive, I only took a second to marvel at the grandeur of it before hopping down out of my SUV and starting my way toward the front doors.
Yes,doors. He had two of them. That’s how insane this place was.
His home was all brick and stone laid out wide with multiple A-shaped points along the roofing. The front doors were canopied under stone pillars that glowed with some hidden lighting system coming from below. The upper level was visible from down here, and you could clearly see these gigantic bay windows that probably looked out over the mountains from maybe the second or third floor. His drive was circular at the front, like some kind of manor or something, all lined with brick and a fountain centered in the middleof it. I parked to the side, not wanting to take up too much space. And from the looks of what I could see from the lawn, he (or more than likely someone else) took great care in manicuring it well.
It was grandiose but not obnoxious. It looked like something a pair of uber-rich lawyers would own with their flock of children. Attainable in ways, but also unrealistic in other ways.
It was also confusing.
Most bachelors with the amount of disposable income Ira had were not buying family homes, they were living it up in some penthouse in the city. Though it was so nice, Ira’s house was strange to me.
Not knowing if I should knock or call, I settled for a quick message telling him I was here. Within moments, he texted back that the door was open and to come in.
I did, letting myself in and immediately finding myself in the dark. The front room of his house was sort of like a landing room. There was a place to put your shoes where a line of size fourteens sat neatly pressed against the wall. They were mostly runners and the occasional slide-on sandals.
I slipped out of my own soft running shoes and lined them up with his. Then frowning down at the intimacy of having our things mixing like that, I moved mine over an inch just to be safe.
Beside the front room there was a long hallway that led into what I assumed would be the main rooms. I could hear something coming from that direction. It sounded hushed and repetitive like the hum of a TV. The blue light glowing across the walls as I made my way down the hallway confirmed the suspicion.
There were pictures lining the space and decorations scattered about here and there. It was all very nice. I didn’t have a chance to take it in, though. Not with the knowledge that Ira was somewhere around here alone in the dark taking precedence. Instead of exploring, I followed the light and the hum of the television further into the house.
“Ira,” I called out, walking further into his home. There was no sign of him anywhere. Not even as I got to the end of the hall where the space opened up to a beautiful and spacious living, dining, and kitchen area. Reaching out, I felt for the fixture I knew had to be on the wall. A moment later, I was flipping the light on. “I’m here. Where are you?”
“Turn that off,” a deep, very depressed sounding voice said.
It sounded close, like it had come from the living room. Making my way around the humongous sectional that separated the living room from the kitchen, I halted as I almost stepped on something. A large something that was shaped like a basketball player lying flat on the ground with an arm thrown over his head.
