Marrying the Mess Upstairs (Married for Millions #7)

1. Chapter 1

Sadie

The ceiling thumped again.

Alyssa dropped her pencil onto the table and groaned. “Hit the ceiling with the broom. That’s what Mrs. Galloway does when her neighbor upstairs gets too loud.”

I sighed and tried to ignore it. “I don’t want to have bad feelings with the neighbors. Whacking the ceiling won’t solve anything. They might get mad and retaliate.”

“What’s he even doing? Jumping?”

“No idea.” I glanced at her math paper, wishing I could focus. Math had always been a four-letter word in our house. I’d barely scraped through it in high school, and Alyssa wasn’t faring any better. Normally I could tune out the neighbor’s racket, but not when we were knee-deep in algebra.

“Why do we have to learn this, anyway?” Alyssa mumbled.

I didn’t answer because I agreed. Turning this into a gripe session wouldn’t help anything.

Instead, I grabbed my phone and typed, Tell me everything about Y = mx + b.

A wall of explanations popped up, and my head immediately started pounding.

Grandma would’ve understood it—she’d been a math whiz.

But since she passed last year, it had been just me and Alyssa.

I’d quit college to take care of her, picked up extra shifts to cover rent, and we were still barely scraping by.

The neighbor was jumping in time to my throbbing head.

“So it’s the slope of a line?” I muttered, squinting at the screen and resisting the urge to rub the growing ache away.

“Who cares what it is?” Alyssa flopped back in her chair. “I can’t do it, and when would I ever need to know the slope of a line?”

Another question I couldn’t answer.

I hated that we both had to work so hard just to come home and fight with math problems. Alyssa deserved more time to be a teenager, but without her part-time job stacked on top of my two jobs, we wouldn’t make it.

“I’ve got an idea,” Alyssa said. “We take all my math papers upstairs, throw them in that guy’s apartment, then burn it down. Two problems, one match.”

“Very funny.” I tried to focus on my phone. “If you don’t get good grades, you won’t get a scholarship, and there’s no way we can make enough money to pay tuition.”

“We would be better off with you going to college first. Then you could get a better job.”

I mumbled something unintelligible.

Alyssa sighed. “Hey, Sadie, remember when you used to be fun?”

I looked up at her and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Not really.”

The truth was… I did. I tried for Alyssa, but life was tiring. It was hard to want to play after dealing with people all day.

“Homecoming’s soon,” Alyssa said, erasing something from her paper. “Not that it matters.”

Three guys had already asked her, but she hadn’t answered.

“You should go,” I said.

“Yeah, in what dress?”

“You can use one of my old ones.”

“They’re probably so out of style.”

I glared at her. “They aren’t that old. I’m not ancient, you know.” I was twenty-two, which made me six years older than my sister.

“I dunno.” She deflated in her chair. “It’s been a while.”

“At least look at them. I have at least six.” It struck me as almost funny now—how I used to get a new dress for every dance. Those days were long gone.

The thumping got louder, and so did the pounding in my head. When I put my fingers against my temples, I could literally feel my veins throbbing.

“How is he not doing that on purpose?” Alyssa grumbled. “He’s going to bring down the ceiling. I hope he has the decency not to fall on our heads when he does it.”

We didn’t actually know it was a he. We’d never even seen whoever lived up there.

“At least he goes to bed at a reasonable hour,” I said. “It’s not like we can complain when all the noise happens before nine.”

“Ooh! If he falls through, we could sue him for traumatizing us or something. Free money!”

I gave her a look and pointed at the paper. “Try, please?”

She grumbled something and looked at the problem.

We finished an hour later. I hoped we’d solved the problems right, but we wouldn’t know until the papers were graded. By the time I fell into bed, I was exhausted. I closed my eyes, and then a strange slapping noise started upstairs—like someone beating on plastic.

I pulled my pillow over my head. So much for reasonable hours.

He was running on a treadmill. That had to be it. I worked at the front desk at a gym, and I’d grown to recognize the sound. Maybe I should slide a gym membership under his door, and he could take his noise somewhere else. Not that I could afford it.

Maybe not a membership, but I needed to do something.

The next morning, I taped a note to the upstairs neighbor’s door.

It was polite, asking if they could please be a little quieter between seven and eight.

That was the time we did math. I took the coward’s way out and left it anonymous.

That way, he wouldn’t know if it came from the side neighbors… or from me.

I wrote the note at least five times, trying to sound polite but address the problem. I thought of leaving a treat, but that felt too desperate, and he probably didn’t want our bargain food.

I hurried across town to my first job: data entry. Not the most glamorous job, but I didn’t have to deal with the public when I was here. I sat quietly in my cubicle, poking at the computer. It was mindless work. I could do it without thinking, which meant my mind could worry.

“Hey, Sadie,” Mack Donaldson said, leaning his arm over my cubicle.

He was one of those guys who thought everyone wanted his attention.

He smelled like Axe deodorant and was always pushing his blond bangs to the side as if he were being filmed.

I couldn’t deny he was attractive, but that didn’t fix his personality.

I glanced up. “Hi, Mack.”

“Busy tonight?”

“I’m busy every night.” We’d had this same conversation at least once a week.

“You need to let loose every now and then. You want your entire life to be working all day then going home to help your sister?”

“That’s my reality right now.”

He held up a finger. “One date.”

“No.”

“You have to have one free hour.”

“I don’t.” I didn’t add that if I did, I wouldn’t be spending it with him.

He leaned forward. “I’m starting to think you aren’t into me.”

My hands sagged against the keyboard. Was he for real? “I’m not,” I said flatly.

He pushed back his hair as his mouth thinned. “Why not?”

I didn’t like him, but saying it that bluntly felt cruel. I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable at work. So, I added, “You just… aren’t my type.”

His expression didn’t change. “What is your type?”

I stared at my screen and didn’t know how to answer anymore. I hadn’t been on a date in over a year, and I didn’t see that changing. My priority was keeping Alyssa fed, clothed, and happy. Relationships didn’t fit into that.

“Why do you care?”

“I can be your type.” He ran one hand over my shoulder.

I jerked away. “I need to work,” I said, speeding up my typing.

“Fine,” he said. “Enjoy the drudgery.”

I didn’t roll my eyes. That would have made my permanent headache worse.

As soon as I was finished, I hurried over to the gym.

I hated this job. Guys were constantly hitting on me, and it drove me crazy—guys even more annoying than Mack.

Thankfully, it was only a few hours a day.

Anymore and I would crack. If we were allowed to be rude, I might not mind it, but we had to pretend we weren’t fuming no matter what.

I stood behind the desk, studying the slope of a line. I was allowed to do what I wanted on the computer when I wasn’t helping anyone.

“Hey.”

I turned. One of the trainers stood there—Cole, according to his name badge. I’d seen him around before, and he was the kind of guy no one forgot. Gorgeous didn’t even begin to cover it. Not that I cared. I didn’t date. And if I did, it wouldn’t be with a gym guy.

I knew it was wrong to group all gym guys into one category, but that’s how my experiences guided me.

“Do you need something?” I asked.

“I just had a client who wants to upgrade. He’ll be out in a minute. Can you help him, please?”

I realized I was grinning like an idiot, so I toned it down. “Of course. I’d love to help.”

He glanced at my screen. “Algebra, huh?”

“Yeah. My sister’s struggling with it, and I’m no good. We’re trying to figure it out together.”

“That’s nice of you.” His smile warmed, casual and easy. “I used to help my sisters with math. I’m kind of a math whiz, if you ever need help.”

I nodded quickly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Not a chance. There was no way I could survive being tutored by Cole. I’d spend the entire time staring at his perfect brown hair and ridiculously defined biceps. Not exactly helpful for concentration.

He flashed another smile and headed back to the gym area behind me. I forced myself not to watch.

“Cole is so hot,” Angela said. She was playing Angry Birds on her computer. She liked to play games when no one was around. Tuesdays were slow days, so lots of flinging birds.

“He’s not bad,” I agreed.

“Not bad? I almost passed out the first time I saw him.”

I smiled and tried to concentrate on math. Angela was the biggest flirt I’d ever seen. If a guy came in, she flirted with him. She didn’t care who they were. Even the wimpiest guy with a bodybuilding resolution left the gym thinking Angela had a crush on them.

They say time flies when you’re having fun, and I say time crawls when doing math. By the time the gym closed, I felt like I’d been there for two days instead of three hours.

I walked home as fast as I could, hoping to get there before Alyssa got back from her shift at the diner. The town was small, so we’d given up the expense of a car. The insurance and gas weren’t worth it.

When I walked in, Alyssa was already there making spaghetti.

“Good day?” I asked.

She glanced up. “Yeah. I told Hunter I would go to homecoming with him.”

I perked up. “Wonderful!”

“I guess.” She shrugged.

“I like Hunter. He’s nice.” He’d come over a few times to watch movies when Alyssa had friends over. It didn’t happen often because she was embarrassed that we didn’t have fun snacks to offer.

“Are you interested in Hunter, or is this just a friend date?”

She shrugged. “Who knows? He’s cute and nice. He’s too rich, though.”

“Too rich?”

“Yep. I walked past his house once. I bet our apartment would fit inside his bathroom. Maybe even his shower.”

“I bet that’s an exaggeration.”

“Not by much.” She gave the pot a final stir. “Dinner’s ready.”

We ate and went straight to math. Why did this teacher want to torment us? Homework every night? We couldn’t have one day off?

The pounding upstairs started. I glared at the ceiling, and we both groaned.

“I guess he didn’t get the note,” I muttered.