13. Emma
Chapter Thirteen
EMMA
P edro was right about one thing. Garrett Chapman made things happen. Weird things. Like the MRI. His presence at her side transformed an otherwise routine and taxing medical visit into a surreal experience.
Emma had spent the better part of the last five years in and out of different doctors’ offices and hospitals. She’d had good experiences with professional and sympathetic doctors and nurses. But she’d also had plenty of bad ones with people who treated her as less than human.
To them, Emma wasn’t a person. She was a condition.
Long-term amnesia like hers was rare enough that she was inevitably paraded in front of every medical resident and student in the building. Then she’d be poked and prodded. Tests would be ordered that she was convinced had nothing to do with her condition. Meanwhile, her real issues would be glossed over or outright ignored.
Funny how a hovering millionaire overseeing her appointment made all those issues disappear.
Garrett picked her up and whisked her to the Jacobs Medical Center in La Jolla, where Dr. Saha had medical privileges. Before Emma knew it, she was in a hospital gown, lying on a conveyor belt, being rolled into a big white tube like a bunch of groceries. That was followed by a blood draw, X-rays, and a long consultation about her current medications.
She left with a sack of new ones. Emma was still examining their labels, doing her best to ignore the hypermasculine presence next to her.
That proved to be a poorly thought-out plan when he pulled his shiny Range Rover into the subterranean parking lot of a new high-rise.
Emma shoved the pills back into the white pharmacy bag and craned her neck to examine the sterile half-filled lot.
“Where are we?” she asked. “And if you say, This is where I murder you, I will punch you in the testicles.”
Garrett covered his face, making a sound that was half-snort, half-wheeze. He took a moment to compose himself before turning to her. The impact of his clean-shaven good looks and sharp suit was a visceral push to her senses.
“Home.”
Frowning, she followed him as he got out of the car and led her to an elevator. She didn’t protest until he put his hand on a high-tech black panel. A light went on at the bottom along with an electronic message.
Welcome home, Mr. Chapman .
He pressed the top button, and the car began to rise.
“ Wait . This is your place? I thought we were going to look at apartments for me.”
“I thought about it but after that consultation, I think setting you up in your own place might be a bad idea. So, you’ll stay with me instead.”
Her scowl was instant. “Excuse me, what ?”
Garrett turned to face her, gesturing to her sack of prescriptions like it was a bag of spiders.
“Em, I was hoping that the consultation would help you cut back on the amount of medication you have to take. But Dr. Saha made it clear you’re not in a place where that’s possible. And a lot of these are heavy-duty. I can’t in good conscience let you live alone.”
She stared at him in disbelief, refusing to budge when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. “Then why did you run me out of my apartment? Or did you forget I had a place to live until you showed up?”
He didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed of himself. “You and I both know Pedro has enough to deal with on his own. I’m going to find him a great therapist who will help him. But he needs the space, both physical and mental, to tackle his problem.”
“That makes no sense,” Emma snapped. “Me leaving just gives Pedro another bedroom to fill with things!”
Garrett’s sigh was long and drawn out. “I didn’t mean space that way. Pedro has been in denial about his condition for a long time. He’s only now starting to face it. Acknowledging it is a huge step. So is seeking treatment. He’s fragile. And rooming with someone who is fragile in another way…”
“All right. I get it,” she bit out, tears stinging her eyes. “I’m a burden.”
“You’re not ,” he said. “You just need a roommate with more emotional bandwidth than Pedro has now. Which is why you are going to let me—the person who owes you—set you up in a new situation.”
His measured, even tone grated on her. Also, why did he have to be both rational and handsome, damn it?
Someone with his hairline and chiseled features should have a low IQ or at least smell bad. But no, he had to run a billion-dollar company and smell like citrus and cedar.
“I hope you’re right,” she muttered. “But also, don’t make it sound like that.”
“Like what?”
“As if I’m the old-timey mistress you’re setting up with an apartment.” She swept her hand out. “I lost my home because of you. That’s the only reason I am agreeing to let you find me a new place. But it’s not supposed to be with you!”
He took her hand and tugged her out of the elevator into a plush carpeted hallway with one wall that was entirely made of glass. Two doors stood at either end .
Garrett ushered her toward the door. “At least see the place first.”
She parted her lips to protest but he was pressing his thumb to a discreet black panel on the door. This fingerprint lock was smaller here and it didn’t spit out a welcome message. It just flashed green.
“My closest friends are authorized to enter but they won’t unless it’s an emergency. It will be no trouble to add you to the database. But you can also have a key fob that will open the smart lock,” he explained, pushing open the door to reveal a space worthy of a magazine cover.
“This is one of two penthouses on the top floor.” He entered and gestured for her to follow him inside. “It has six bedrooms, so there’s plenty of room. I turned one into an office but that’s still four big bedrooms up for grabs.”
The sunken living room was outfitted with two overstuffed couches and a fireplace. The shiny mahogany bar effectively acted as a separator at the top of the two steps behind which was a swinging door that appeared to lead to a kitchen.
Moving behind the bar, he lifted a cut crystal glass. “Want a drink?”
He took out a sphere of ice from an under-counter freezer she couldn’t see and poured himself a few inches of something amber gold. He paused, giving her bag of drugs a considering glance.
“On second thought, mixing alcohol with your meds is a bad idea. How about a Shirley Temple?”
Her brows crept up. He was either going to be the best roommate she’d ever had or the worst.
“You’re the one who asked the doctor to have my old prescriptions re-evaluated,” she said, examining the glamorous space. The glass he was holding must cost more than her entire wardrobe.
Dear Lord, what if she broke something? She would be in debt to him for years .
“Could you drink on the old ones?” he asked, leaning forward and resting an arm on the bar.
“No.” She bit her lip, giving their surroundings a skeptical once-over. “I’m not sure about this.”
His sigh was long and drawn out. “Man, I wish you could drink,” he muttered.
“I heard that.”
Garrett grinned, his entire face warming with both welcome and reassurance. “You were meant to.”
Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “You are not as cute as you think you are.”
His grin only deepened. “Yes, I am.”
She hated that it was true. But she’d sooner chew her own arm off than admit it.
He continued after a beat. “Along with the spare bedrooms and my office, this place has a gym, a state-of-the-art kitchen, and a formal dining room in addition to this living room area. You can have two bedrooms if you want. Or change to a new one every week. Rotate the whole month if you want.”
Wow, he was giving her the hard sell. “Next you’ll tell me you’re never here, that I’ll hardly ever see you.”
Garrett rocked back on his heels. “Oh. No. I’m not going to do that.”
Did this man conform to any expectations? Emma flattened her hand on the satiny wood surface of the bar. “You’re not?”
Garrett took a swig of his drink, the tightening around his eyes testifying to its strength. “Nope.”
Unsurprisingly, he got more relaxed with every sip. “I’m going to be here a lot. I would never bring you somewhere to live that didn’t have supervision.”
That was meant to be comforting. His words shouldn’t make her underarms sweat. “But it doesn’t have to be you.”
A strong emotion flashed across his face before he could hide it. It almost looked like… hurt.
Emma immediately felt guilty. Yes, he’d inadvertently ruined her life, but he was trying to fix it. “I mean, don’t you have to work?”
Garrett set the glass down. “Many of our current projects are moving out of the planning stage. I’ll still have quite a bit of work, but far fewer meetings. Which means I can telecommute for the next couple of weeks. If anything urgent comes up, the office is only a short drive away.”
“Oh.” A new thought occurred to her. “You said a few weeks. Does that mean this housing situation is temporary?”
Was a few weeks enough time to find something she could afford?
Even with the assistance she got from the state, that would be a challenge. Her hours at De Olla were supposed to be full-time, but with her frequent absences, she worked part-time most weeks—something Hector considered when drafting the schedule.
“ No .” Garrett took a deep breath, frustration creeping into his tone. “Like I said, you living alone just isn’t possible right now—your mother was right about that.”
The look of horror on her face made him laugh. “Before you ask, no. I didn’t speak to her. We grew up in the same town, but I never met her. Not officially. Your cousin spoke of her quite a bit though. He said she was a little high-strung, and the only reason she slept at night was because you lived with a family member.”
“Which you aren’t,” she said, pointing out the obvious.
Garrett acknowledged that with a gruff nod. “We’ve been over this. In a perfect world, you could have stayed with Pedro, but sweetheart… you know he’s a mess. He needs to focus on his health before he can be responsible for yours.”
The endearment was unexpected, but she was too irritated with his choice of words to let her surprise show. “You make me sound like a child. I can take care of myself.”
His eyes were serious and soft. “I know you want to. But you’re not there yet.”
Ouch . Guess who wasn’t pulling their punches?
“Also, I hate to be the asshole who points out you weren’t helping Pedro either.”
“You don’t know that,” she shot back, stung.
“Emmy.” He sighed. “Introducing an animal into a hoarder’s home was a terrible idea.”
“I know that now. But?—”
He held up a hand. “I know you claimed Prince as your own, but it was just a matter of time before Pedro began to think of him as his pet as well. Trust me when I say that would have been the worst-case scenario. Because one cat would have inevitably turned into two and then three. And then a dozen.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”
“Could you stop him?” Abandoning his drink, Garrett came around the bar, stopping just a few feet from her.
His posture wasn’t hostile. Garrett had even slipped his hands into his pockets to downplay his intimidation factor.
It didn’t work, of course. His sheer size made her want to keep a piece of furniture between them. But she was too stubborn to let him see that.
“Tell the truth. Have you been able to stop Pedro from accumulating more stuff since you moved in with him? Or even slowed it down?”
His words hurt like hell, mainly because she’d asked herself those same questions before.
“I’m not trying to hurt you by saying these things.” Garrett’s big hand engulfed hers. “That’s the last thing I want. But the fact is that you weren’t going to be able to stop him. He needs professional help.”
Emma pulled away from his touch. “How do you know so much about hoarding?”
“Honestly, I don’t. I’ve just started to investigate it, but what I’ve found is depressing as hell. Pedro is a hoarder, Em. It’s a serious and badly understood disease. And he’s going to need more help than you can give him.”
The tear that fell took her by surprise. Damn, had she gotten so used to pain that the fact that she was about to cry didn’t even register anymore?
Garrett crept closer, opening his arms.
“I don’t need a hug.” She sniffed, swiping under her eyes with the cuffs of her sweatshirt.
Garrett stepped back, giving her more space, but damned if he didn’t look disappointed. “Just as well. Celeste would have my balls in a sling. ”
The mention of the HR woman brought the absurdity of the situation home. What the hell was she doing here? If he was trying to avoid a lawsuit, this was a weird-ass way to go about it.
Emma gnawed on her lower lip. “Why does my high school nemesis want to help me? Do you have a secret white knight fetish?”
His smile was like one of those glowing orbs that sometimes appeared in her vision. Fascinating and distracting, but it didn’t bode well for her well-being.
“I know you don’t want help, especially from someone who knew you when. But I’m here now and I’ve got a debt to repay. In fact, given my recent track record, those debts are multiplying.”
The parking garage incident replayed itself on fast-forward in her mind. “Yeah, I guess you are racking them up.”
Garrett snorted. “So let me pay them off, please. For the sake of my karma.” He gestured to the opulent space around them. “It’s not like it’ll be a sacrifice for me.”
“All right, Mr. Moneybags,” she groused, grateful for the chance to resent him again. “Want to take five to go dive into your vault of gold coins a la Scrooge Mc Duck?”
He cocked his head to the side. “How do you even know about Scrooge McDuck?”
“Memes,” she explained.
Researching them had been her mother’s suggestion, a quick way of discovering what was in the zeitgeist. Emma had spent the first few years after her accident doing a comprehensive if haphazard study of the world.
His head rocked back in understanding. “I see. So can I show you the bedrooms now?”
Did she have a choice?
It’s no different from finding a room online , she told herself. It was probably safer.
Yes, Garrett had barged into her life in the most suspect and intimidating way possible. But he’d done it publicly. Their names were on HR reports together that had all sorts of red flags all over them.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked suspiciously.
“That if anything happens to me, the police will look at you first.”
He snickered. “That’s true. Also, bonus—tabloid TV would have a field day.”
That was a very good point. Handsome billionaire embroiled in a scandal with an amnesiac would be a juicy story.
“I suppose it’s not in your best interests to murder me and chop me into little pieces.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Believe me, if I had murderous intent for anyone, I’d save it for someone who deserved it. Like a politician.”
Emma nodded sagely as if that was a given.
“All right. I will consider staying if you can answer one question. And I want the truth. No lies. No excuses.”
She put her hands on his forearms, lifting on her tiptoes to look directly into his eyes. She fell several inches short, but he responded appropriately—freezing in place as if dreading what she might say next.
“Where’s my damn cat?”