80
Ericka Mathews wasn't a woman who got nervous often. But this morning, pacing the length of her office in a crisp white blouse and navy slacks, she had the distinct look of someone balancing on a high wire—with elegance, yes, but also with a hint of anxiety buried beneath her composed exterior.
Amanda's birthday was coming up, and for the first time in her adult life, Ericka wanted to plan something that wasn't just flashy—it had to mean something.
Amanda wasn't someone who wanted expensive jewelry or elaborate parties.
She needed space. Ownership. Something that reflected how seen she was.
Ericka had found the apartment a week ago—just one floor down from her own.
It had the bones of something beautiful: exposed beams, tall windows, and a wide-open studio-style layout that Amanda could transform into anything she wanted.
The idea hit her like a spark: give Amanda something that was hers. Entirely hers.
But first, she had to do what she did best: run things behind the scenes.
She called in a few quiet favors—real estate contacts, her private lawyer, and her interior consultant, Gemma, who owed her after that messy Tokyo pitch last quarter. The paperwork was expedited. The space was cleaned out. Utilities transferred under Amanda's name. The title was clean and signed.
All that was left was the surprise.
Which meant keeping Amanda completely, blissfully unaware.
Cue the most delicate corporate balancing act of Ericka's career.
That afternoon, she texted Amanda:
ERICKA: "Think you can lead the sustainability meeting Thursday solo? I have...a thing."
Amanda:
AMANDA: "A thing? ??"
AMANDA: "Who are you and what have you done with my overprepared boss?"
Ericka smiled at the screen.
ERICKA: "Just a thing. Nothing shady. Probably brunch-related."
Amanda:
AMANDA: "Brunch, huh? Should I be worried?"
ERICKA: "Only if you hate surprises."
AMANDA: "Oh god."
The next day, Ericka claimed she had a dentist appointment. Amanda didn't question it—though she did pack an extra protein bar into Ericka's bag, which nearly melted Ericka's heart.
Instead of dental work, Ericka spent the afternoon finalizing the keys, meeting with the building manager, and handpicking a few simple housewarming touches: a cozy rug, a few fresh candles, and a mini bouquet of Amanda's favorite—ranunculus, bright orange and pink.
Just enough to make the empty space feel like it was waiting for someone.
"Make it look untouched, but intentional," she told the assistant setting it up. "Like she just stumbled into a dream."
Gemma gave her a thumbs-up. "You're such a sap."
Ericka didn't argue.
That night, Amanda curled up on the couch beside her, none the wiser, rambling about sketch ideas and how they could mix structured and flowy elements for the next capsule.
"You're quiet," Amanda said, nudging her playfully. "Plotting world domination again?"
"Maybe," Ericka murmured, brushing Amanda's hair back from her face. "You'll see."
Amanda raised an eyebrow. "That's cryptic."
"Just trust me."
"I do."
And in that moment, Ericka knew that no matter how the surprise played out, the look on Amanda's face—when she finally saw what had been waiting for her—would be worth every lie, every deflection, and every missed meeting she'd fake in the meantime.
____________________________________________________
The scent hit her first—warm vanilla, a little cinnamon, and the unmistakable note of fresh frosting. Amanda stirred under the soft sheets, her limbs tangled, cheek pressed against the pillow as a sliver of golden morning light crept in through the curtains.
Then came the voice, low and smooth with a teasing smile wrapped around every syllable.
"Rise and shine, birthday girl."
Amanda groaned lightly, burying her face deeper into the pillow. "Five more minutes..."
"Nope," Ericka said, laughing. "You're not sleeping through this. I worked too hard."
Amanda blinked her eyes open just in time to see Ericka crouched beside the bed, holding a little white plate in one hand—with a single cupcake, perfectly frosted in lavender icing and topped with a tiny glittery candle.
Amanda sat up, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. "You're not serious."
Ericka held the plate out with a flourish. "Oh, but I am. This is a gourmet cupcake from that little bakery in Midtown you said you loved last spring. I had to call in two favors and a guilt trip to get it before they opened."
Amanda blinked, then laughed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"Guilty." Ericka leaned in, her voice dropping. "Make a wish."
Amanda looked at the candle, soft flame flickering.
She closed her eyes.
Then blew.
Ericka smiled, setting the plate down on the nightstand before climbing into bed beside her, slipping an arm around Amanda's waist. "Happy birthday."
Amanda leaned into the touch. "This is already the best morning."
Ericka kissed her cheek. "Just wait. I've got something else planned."
Amanda raised an eyebrow. "Something else?"
Ericka insisted they go for a walk.
Amanda hadn't expected her morning to start with Ericka dragging her into the elevator before she could even sip her coffee.
"Wait—where are we going?" Amanda asked, tugging at the sleeve of her blazer, trying to catch up with Ericka's unusually urgent pace.
"You'll see," Ericka said smoothly, tapping the button for a floor Amanda rarely ever visited.
Amanda narrowed her eyes. "Did you plan something?"
Ericka didn't answer. Her smirk said enough.
The elevator doors opened with a quiet ding, and Amanda followed her down the hallway, still confused until they reached the end of the hall.
Apartment 5C.
It looked like every other door in the building—until Ericka pulled out a single key from her pocket and unlocked it.
She stepped aside.
"Go ahead."
Amanda blinked. "What?"
"Go on."
Amanda stepped through the door, and for a moment, she didn't say a word.
The apartment was flooded with natural light, the tall windows stretching from wall to wall, revealing a panoramic view of the city that shimmered like glass under the morning sun.
The floors were smooth, pale oak. The kitchen—sleek, modern, but not cold—gleamed with marble countertops and matte black fixtures.
It smelled faintly of new paint and possibility.
Amanda turned in a slow circle, her eyes wide, her hand pressed to her chest like she was trying to make sure her heart didn't fall out of it.
"This is..." She trailed off, words failing.
Ericka watched her from the kitchen, perched casually on the counter, one leg swinging as if she hadn't spent the last two weeks orchestrating this entire surprise without Amanda catching on.
She bit back a proud smirk, choosing instead to sip from the latte she'd picked up earlier and say, "Yours."
Amanda looked over her shoulder, blinking. "Wait. What?"
Ericka hopped down from the counter and walked over, slipping her hands into the back pockets of Amanda's jeans as she leaned in. "All yours. Paid in full. No strings. No rent. No monthly anything."
Amanda opened her mouth, but all that came out was a shaky laugh. "You bought me an apartment?"
"Well," Ericka said with a playful shrug, "technically I bought it for you, but you can call it whatever makes you feel better about accepting it."
Amanda turned fully, her hands resting lightly on Ericka's waist now, her expression full of both wonder and disbelief. "This is insane."
"It's an investment," Ericka said, brushing a loose curl away from Amanda's face. "In your future. In that fashion line you keep sketching in your notebooks when you think I'm not looking."
Amanda flushed. "That doesn't mean I can accept this. Ericka, this is too much."
Ericka's gaze didn't waver. "You can. And you will. Because I believe in you. Because I want you to have a space that's just yours, where you can create whatever you want—design, dream, scream at fabric samples if you need to."
"You've been talking about needing space. About wanting to create more, dream bigger. I wanted to give you that. I wanted you to have a place that wasn't just tied to me."
Amanda laughed, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. "I can't believe you did this."
Ericka kissed her forehead. "I'd do it again."
Amanda stepped away slowly, taking in the space with new eyes. She wandered through the empty living room, toward the sunlit nook near the window that would be perfect for a drafting table. Then to the corner where she imagined racks of clothes and walls pinned with mood boards and fabric swatches.
She spun around with a gleam in her eye. "Okay... I might already have ideas."
Ericka grinned. "That's the goal."
Amanda walked over and leaned into her, arms slipping around her neck. "You spoil me."
"I invest in excellence," Ericka murmured, kissing her gently.
Ericka slipped her hand into Amanda's and gently tugged her toward the far end of the apartment. "Come on. Let me show you everything."
Amanda followed, still stunned, her eyes taking in every little detail like it might vanish if she blinked too long.
"This could be the work space," Ericka said as they stepped into the sunniest corner of the apartment. "See all the natural light? Perfect for sketching, mood boards, pinning up chaos."
Amanda smiled. "You remembered I like to sketch near the windows."
"I remember everything."
They moved to the kitchen—sleek, minimal, full of possibility. "You could host fittings here," Ericka said. "Or interviews, or wine nights after gallery showings. Whatever future mogul things you want to do."
Amanda leaned back against the counter, blinking slowly. "You really thought this through."
"I wanted to," Ericka said simply, opening a hallway door to reveal a small room with massive windows. "This could be a break space. Or a glam station. Or a meditation den. You get to decide."
Amanda turned to face her. "Okay, but... all of this. It's a lot. I can't just—take your money, Ericka."
Ericka's brow lifted, playful but serious. "It's not charity. Think of it as an investment."
"In what?"
"In you," Ericka said softly, stepping closer. "In the fashion line you'll more than likely create in the future. In the magic I know you're capable of. You've talked about this dream more times than you realize. Let me help bring it to life."
Amanda looked around again—at the sunlight, the space, the silence full of potential.
"You're really not going to let me argue, are you?"
"Not even a little." Ericka grinned. "All you have to worry about is getting whatever furniture you want.
No matter the cost. No budget. No guilt.
If you want a custom velvet couch shaped like a seashell?
Get it. If you want a glass desk suspended from the ceiling with gold brackets? I will find someone to build it."
Amanda laughed, eyes glistening again. "You are ridiculous."
"I'm yours," Ericka said. "That's even worse."
Amanda threw her arms around her, the laugh turning into something softer. "Thank you. For believing in me like this."
Ericka held her tight. "It's easy. I've seen what you can do. And I'm not just investing in your future—I'm making space for it."