The elevator sounded its arrival and she stepped out to pay for the pizza. When he left, she closed the door behind her with a large steaming pizza box in her hand. I wasn’t sure what to say. I understood grief and death, but I didn’t understand her lifestyle. For the most part, I grew up in a one-bedroom with AJ. Mallory and Ben grew up with their parents, but they lived in poverty. All three of us had fought our way out of it. I’d been the most successful, but I would never feel comfortable in a home like this. Carter’s was different. That was Carter’s place, not mine.
“What about you and your folks?”
“Oh.” What did I say? “Um, my parents have been dead since I was nine. I grew up with my brother.”
“I’m sorry about your folks too. You must be close with your brother?”
I was. “Yeah.” I forced a wide smile and changed the topic. “The pizza smells delicious.”
She chuckled as she pulled out two plates. “Gotta love Sammy’s Pizza, right? I grew up on it. My mom always ordered delivery. I think she had a crush on the delivery guy back then, but my dad never minded. It was the only time he could eat junk food. My mom was a stickler for healthy food back then. Not me. I indulge when I can. When the pounds start sticking, I’ll have to stop.”
I had to agree. She was stick-thin and after spending so many breaks and meals with her during the week, I knew she had a hearty appetite. I wasn’t as blessed, but I never had a problem with my weight. My problem was not having an appetite like Theresa, something she had started to notice over the past week. I was determined to match her with pizza tonight, but as I made that decision she already gobbled a slice down as she searched for two glasses for our wine. I didn’t think I stood a chance. However, I slid a piece onto a plate and took the glass of wine she offered.
That was normal, to indulge after a hard week at work and laugh with your friends over a glass of wine. This was all normal. I could be normal.
Carter wasn’t normal, but I couldn’t only have him in my life now.
“So what do you want to watch?” She indicated to the couches and soon we were both situated with blankets, the pizza on the table, and the second bottle of wine beside it. As I watched her gather everything, she flushed and murmured, “I get lazy once I’m on that couch. I don’t like to get up. Don’t judge me.”
“Never.” I couldn’t contain the smile that stretched from ear to ear. Theresa was exactly the friend that I needed.
It was after the second movie and the second bottle of wine when someone knocked on her door. I fell off the couch, my heart pounding, but Theresa scowled at the door. There was no fear, there wasn’t even surprise. She sighed as she stood from the couch, a little clumsier than normal. “Excuse me while I deal with this.”
With this?
I slunk down on the couch so they couldn’t see me, but I tried to peek over the edge. As she opened the door wider and I heard a masculine voice, my mouth fell open. Did Theresa have a boyfriend and not tell me? Well. I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t been forthcoming about my life at all. I couldn’t blame her for not sharing her personal life. Then I heard her snap, “Noah, you never told me!”
I gave up on peeking and fell to the floor beside the couch. That was my boss.
He growled from irritation and snapped back, “I did too. I told you about the family dinner last week.”
“Yeah.” Theresa held her own. “You told me, you never invited me. I thought you were just being a selfish prick, like normal.”
“AAH! You make me crazy.”
She snorted. “You do that fine just by yourself. I don’t do a thing to make you crazy.” Her voice softened. “Your mother must be so angry with me.”
“Don’t worry. She blames me, said I must’ve done something to piss you off.”
“Look, come in. I’ll call your mom and square everything away. I have company so I can’t come anyway.”
“You have company?” Interest and alarm spiked in his tone. “Who?”
“A friend.”
He snorted this time, “You don’t have any friends.”
She growled. “I’d slam this door in your face if I didn’t have to call your mother.”
“Ookay,” he mocked her.
“Whatever. Come in. Be nice to my friend.” She turned around and grabbed her phone from the table beside me. As she bent, she flashed me an apology, but she spoke to the big guy who had followed her inside, “You might want to be professional. She works for you.” And then she flounced out of the room, lifting the phone to her ear as she went.
I sat up. So this was Noah Tomlinson. I never met the guy but had seen photographs of him. There’d been a few from when he had been an MMA fighter and plenty from when he won the national championship. He wore jeans and a sweater that stretched across his chest in an impressive manner. The guy was huge, and as I caught his gaze, I knew he was intelligent. A cloud of suspicion and leering was in his gaze as he raked me up and down.
I expected the owner of The Richmond to stick his hand out, smooth back his hair, and become the sleazy smooth-talker most of the guys at the top level were. He didn’t. His frown deepened and he leaned against the island counter in the kitchen. He folded his arms, making his chest seem even bigger, and scowled at me. “Who are you?”
He didn’t know—but he must’ve. “I’m Emma Martins.”