6.
I got so many zeroes in my bank account, I feel like I just robbed the Federal Reserve.
It’s been a week since I signed the contract, and I haven’t spent a lick of that money.
It still feels wrong. It feels good telling my mother I was going to buy her a house, but oh does it feel wrong.
It’s not my money. It’s his money. Mr. Prettier-Girls-At-My-School.
“Are you sure, Giada?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, Ma. I’m sure.”
“But—but you haven’t bought a house for yourself.”
“That’ll come later. You deserve this after all those years you worked hard to make sure we made it. I want to do this for you.”
Tears flowed out of her eyes like a river. In them, I see years of struggle. I see the times she was just barely staying above water, scraping by trying to make ends meet. I see instances when she didn’t have two pennies to rub together. Now, she’ll have something that’s hers permanently.
I say, “I already contacted a realtor. They’re going to email you some houses. You just let her know which one you want to go check out, okay?”
“Okay. I can do that.”
“Good.”
She stands up from the sofa and wraps her arms around me.
I let her cry. She deserves this. I’m not one of those daughters who’s oblivious to the sacrifices she made for me.
My mom was a teen mom. She had me when she was nineteen.
She graduated from high school, but that was the extent of her education.
When she found that housekeeping job, she stuck with it.
The hours were good for her schedule and mine.
She made sure I got on the bus in the mornings, and when I was younger, she made sure she was home before I got there.
My needs came first. She was just – well – living for me.
Now, it’s time she lived for herself. To date, fall in love – do all the things she couldn’t do because she was making sure I had what I needed.
I want that so much for her, but first, I wanted her to have a home to call her own.
She didn’t need to know how I could afford it, nor was I going to disclose to her how it was possible.
It’s late when I pull up at Kasim’s place. He texted me the code to the gate, so I let myself through, then parked in the driveway.
I sit in my car for a moment and shake my head. “What the heck are you doing, Giada?”
I ask myself the question while knowing it’s too late to turn back now, especially after telling my mother to pick out a house. The smile on her face is enough to get me through this.
Three months.
I only need to serve three months with the person whom I once trusted – the person who called me poor behind my back and said I dressed funny.
And I taught this fool how to ride a bike…
I should’ve let him bust his tail.
I get out of the car and take a suitcase from the backseat. Before I can carry it up the stairs, I feel it being taken out of my hand.
I turn around to see Kasim with no shirt, wearing a pair of black shorts and a black headband, covered in sweat.
“What—the—? Where’d you come from?”
“I went out for a jog.”
“At night?”
He smirks. “It’s not completely dark. You drove right past me. I ran faster to get here before you started taking things out of your car. You must’ve been sitting here for a minute.”
“I was,” I say, trying to force my eyes not to look at his chest, but it can’t be helped.
His pectorals are thick and glistening with sweat – sweat that runs down defined six-pack abs and along the treasure trail that dips below the waistband of his shorts.
His shoulders are massive – two boulders that make him look like he can lift anything.
He turns and proceeds to the stairs.
I follow, swallowing the lump in my throat at the expanse of his back. Muscles flex beneath his skin effortlessly, making me ask how they could be so defined. Good grief! Did he live in the gym?
He keys in the code to the front door and when he steps inside, he lowers the bag, turns to me and says, “How does it feel to be back?”
I glance at his chest briefly, but my eyes fall to it again because his body is top tier.
He’s no longer the scrawny teenager I remember.
This is a full-grown man with full-grown muscles and everything else I imagine.
It’s giving boss status. Alpha male status.
Make a woman lose her mind status. But something else catches my eyes – something I didn’t see under the darkness of the night.
He has a cursive letter ‘G’ tattooed on his left pectoral.
It’s small, about the size of a quarter, but it’s there.
I look up at him, confusion clouding my features.
“Something wrong?”
“Uh…n—no. No. Nothing’s wrong,” I say, looking at the letter on his chest again before connecting my eyes to his.
My stomach flips, sinking fast like a boat with a hole in it. A feeling washes over me – a rush of something electric that tells me he’s confirming it’s what I think it is. My initial. The nickname he gave me. It’s etched into his body, close to his heart. My throat tightens.
“Giada?”
“Oh. Um…”
Breathe, Giada. Breathe.
“What did you ask me?” I inquire.
“I said, how does it feel to be back here?”
“It’s different,” I finally answer.
It’s very different. His parents are no longer alive, which is mind boggling in itself, but I cannot fathom how he’s able to live here with all the memories of them – or perhaps that’s what’s holding him here. The memories.
“I would give you a tour, but you don’t need one, do you?”
I grin, remembering the days we spent playing hide-and-seek and laser tag around this place.
“I suppose you can show me where I will be sleeping.”
“Sure.”
He grabs my heavy bag like it weighs nothing and begins up the spiral staircase. I follow him and when he’s almost at the end of the hallway where I know the master suite is located, he says, “Here you are.”
“Here?” I ask.
“Yes. Here.”
“All the bedrooms in this house, and you put me in the one closest to yours?”
“Yes. It’s a huge, lonely house. It’ll feel good to have some life in here.”
“I see.” I sigh heavily and look around the room. It’s a beautiful space like all the other rooms in this place. It looks like where a princess would sleep. The pink and white pillows on the bed and the drapes at the windows – this place is immaculate.
He says, “Take your time and get settled. Have you eaten?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“Okay. If you need anything, just holla.”
“Thanks.”
He leaves, closes the door, and I literally fall face down across the bed. I’m tired, confused and wondering how my life has changed so drastically seemingly overnight. This morning I woke up in my apartment. Tonight, I’m going to sleep in this man’s house.
And I’m a millionaire – can’t leave that part out.
Stuff like this doesn’t happen to ordinary people like me. And then add the fact that it’s him to the mix. Kasim.
My Kasim, with the ‘G’ on his chest.