Chapter 10
I was awakened the next morning by the sound of groaning.
“Are you okay?” I rolled over to see Topher sprawled on the floor next to the bed.
“I didn’t sleep at all,” he grumbled, rubbing his back. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“I thought you said you sleep better on the floor.”
“Yeah, well, that’s when the floor is in a Tokyo hotel with climate control and 800-thread count sheets.” He sat up, stretching his arms above his head. “This... this is medieval torture.”
His hair was a mess, and there were clear indentations on his cheek from the cushion he’d been using as a pillow. Frustratingly, it made him look even better—like some disheveled model in a magazine shoot.
Before I could say anything, he reached for his laptop. “I’ll forget about it once I get into a work rhythm.”
He clicked the power button, waited a few seconds, then blinked. “No. No way.”
“What?” I already guessed the answer.
“The internet is down again!” He stared at his laptop like it had betrayed him. “I can’t believe this.”
“Why don’t you just use your phone as a hotspot?”
He shook his head, his expression serious. “I can’t risk it. For security reasons, my team has disabled hotspot capabilities on my devices. It’s all to ensure that sensitive data doesn’t get exposed over unsecured networks.”
He stormed out of the room, and I followed him into the hallway, right in time to see his mom standing by the door, watching us both with a raised eyebrow.
“Morning,” Josephine said, smiling softly. “Everything alright?”
“The internet’s down again.”
She shook her head and looked at him with a knowing smile. “You need to stop working so much.”
Before Topher could open his mouth to argue, I jumped in, crossing my arms. “She’s right. You need to stop working so much.”
He shot me a sideways glance. “You’re ganging up on me now?”
“Someone has to,” I replied. “I mean, is the world going to fall apart if you take a day off?”
“The world? No. My company? Maybe.”
Then he started barking orders into his phone. “Yeah, I need you over here, now. The Wi-Fi’s out again.” He paused. “I don’t care if you had too much fun last night and are feeling it today.”
When the tech guy showed up, he looked like he’d just crawled out of a New Orleans gutter. His clothes were rumpled, his eyes bloodshot, and the smell of stale alcohol clung to him. Clearly, he’d survived a wild night in the French Quarter.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Topher muttered.
The tech guy slumped down by the router, poking around with wires and muttering something under his breath. Finally, after what felt like forever, he stood up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Well, the reason it was down is... a little odd.” The tech guy scratched his head. “In the French Quarter, they say ghosts can mess with electronics. Maybe we’ve got a little supernatural interference?”
Topher shot him a flat look. “A ghost? Seriously?”
The tech guy shrugged. “Or, you know, just some local wiring interference. But it’s fixed now.”
Topher rubbed his temples. “Great. Thanks. Get some aspirin.”
After the tech guy left, Josephine looked at us with a smile. “Why don’t you both join me in the kitchen for a board game?”
I smiled at Josephine. “I’d love to. Let me get changed real quick.”
Once the bedroom door clicked shut, I turned to Topher. “We really need to figure out this bedding situation.”
We sat down in front of his laptop. “What about this blow-up mattress?” I asked.
Toper shook his head. “Look at the dimensions. There’s no way that’s fitting in the room.”
“Wait, this looks comfortable. An inflatable beach lounger. It’s in stock, and they have two-hour delivery if you pay extra.”
Topher nodded. “That does look comfortable.”
Once the order was placed, Topher was already making a beeline for his computer setup, clearly ready to dive back into his usual routine. “I’ve got things to take care of.”
I stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Oh no, you don’t. Take a break, Topher. Spend a couple of hours with your mom. You won’t get this time back.”
He hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen where his mom sat at the table. I could see the internal struggle, the constant pull of his responsibilities that never seemed to let up.
“I do have stuff I need to finish.” His eyes drifted toward his computer, as if it physically hurt to stay away from it.
“You can get back to it when she’s napping. Trust me. A little break won’t kill you.”
He glanced at his mom again, and that’s when I saw the moment she won. His shoulders slumped slightly, the tension easing just a fraction. “Alright, fine. But just for a little while.”
I led him back into the living room, where Josephine had already set up a board game on the coffee table. It was Scrabble. Perfect for some lighthearted competition.
Topher’s eyes lit up. “Now we’re talking!”
Josephine grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “Topher loved this game as a kid. He used to beat all the adults.”
“Of course I did,” Topher said, practically bouncing into his seat. “It’s been a while, but I’m ready to reclaim my title.”
We started playing, and it didn’t take long for Topher’s competitive streak to kick into high gear. He was already eyeing the board like it was a chess match. Josephine, though, was no slouch, and she wasn’t holding back, either.
“So, Topher,” I asked with a grin, “did you really throw around words like ‘ubiquitous’ when you were eight?”
He flashed a smile. “I didn’t just use ‘ubiquitous.’ I spelled it on a triple-word score.”
Josephine laughed. “He was insufferable. The teachers didn’t know what to do with him.”
Topher smirked, not even denying it. “What can I say? I liked words.”
“You mean, you liked showing off,” I teased.
He laid down the word ‘zodiac’ on, predictably, a triple-word score. “Some things never change.”
The game continued, and Josephine shared stories about how Topher would correct his teachers and successfully convince them to extend recess.
Josephine’s laugh softened as she glanced at Topher, a flicker of worry crossing her face. “You were always so serious, even as a kid. Always concerned about things no child should have to worry about.”
Topher’s smile faded for a moment, his gaze dropping to the game board. “Well, someone had to keep things in order.”
I felt a pang of curiosity and concern. What had happened when he was a kid? What could have made him feel so responsible, even back then? Whatever it was, its weight still seemed to cling to him.
The tension was palpable, and I could see the shadows of the past creeping back between them. I wanted to break the heaviness.
“Wait, wait,” I said. “Are you telling me the same Topher Brodie who argues about the importance of work once argued for more recess?”
Topher’s face broke into a sheepish smile, and Josephine’s eyes twinkled as the mood lifted. “Yes,” she said, chuckling. “He had a whole presentation—charts and everything.”
Topher rolled his eyes, and I could see the tension ease from his shoulders. “What can I say? I’ve always been persuasive.”
The doorbell rang, and my heart skipped a beat. Topher and I jumped up to answer it, and there stood Gladys, the nosiest neighbor in history, holding the massive box with the inflatable pool float and a suspicious look on her face.
“What’s this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, handing the box over to Topher.
Topher raised an eyebrow right back. “Are you a delivery driver now, Gladys?”
Gladys huffed, her hands on her hips. “I intercepted it! Thought it might be something interesting. So, what’s the beach lounger for?”
Before Topher could answer, I blurted out, “It’s, uh… for Halloween. We’re doing a haunted beach theme this year.”
Gladys looked intrigued. Then she winked at me. “A haunted beach, huh?”
I gave her my best this-is-totally-normal smile. “Yep! You know, spooky skeletons, surfboards… It’s going to be... Scary.”
Topher shot me a look that practically screamed, Seriously?
Spooky surfboards? That’s what you’re going with?
Why not just tell her the pool floatie is for the pool at my mansion?
He quickly shoved the box behind the door, clearly trying to hide it before Gladys asked any more questions. “Anyway, thanks for bringing it over.”
But Gladys, being Gladys, wasn’t done. She pushed her way in, her curiosity far from satisfied. “A haunted beach. Josephine always comes up with the best decorations. I can’t wait to see what you do this year.”
Me too, Gladys, me too. I already dreaded figuring out how we’d pull this off.
“Oh, hello, Josephine, darling!” Gladys darted over to the kitchen and gave her a quick hug. “Scrabble, huh? I’ll leave you three to it.”
As soon as the door closed, Topher shook his head. “Gladys is so nosy. How do you put up with her?”
Josephine chuckled. “Gladys is just a caring neighbor.”
Topher’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Caring? Sure, if you mean caring about being the first to spread gossip.”
Josephine was unfazed. “She’s harmless. Now, are we finishing this Scrabble game or not?”
We played a few games. Topher won them all by a landslide. Then, he and I headed to the kitchen to make lunch.
As I started chopping vegetables for a salad, Topher stirred the spaghetti sauce and slipped into a yoga pose. He had one leg stretched back in what I could only guess was Warrior, his other arm lazily swirling the spoon.
I paused, knife hovering above the cucumber. He had listened to me. Topher—the workaholic, always-on, never-slow-down Topher—was trying to relax. A sense of warmth spread through me.
After lunch, Josephine rested most of the day, allowing Topher plenty of time to work. Later that night, after we’d cleaned up dinner and Josephine had gone to bed, it was time to set up Topher’s bed.
“How hard could this be?” He ripped the box open.
I eyed the lounger. “So…do we have a plan for blowing this thing up?”
After scouring the house for an air pump and coming up empty, we realized we’d have to inflate it the old-fashioned way. Lung power. We each took a valve and started blowing. Within minutes, I was lightheaded, and Topher wasn’t faring any better.
“This…is…ridiculous,” I gasped, pausing to catch my breath. “Why…didn’t we…get the next size…down?”
Topher, equally out of breath, just laughed between puffs. “Who…knew…blowing up…a beach lounger…was…an Olympic sport?”
After several dizzying rounds of huffing and puffing, the lounger was finally inflated. We collapsed onto the now-bouncy surface, panting and laughing like we’d just finished a marathon.
“You know,” Topher said, “I’m not sure if it’s the exhaustion talking, but this is way more comfortable than it has any right to be.”
“So,” I said, turning to face him, “when was the last time you had to blow something up manually?”
Topher let out a small chuckle. “Does my ego count?”
Well, well, well, Topher Brodie making fun of himself. I raised an eyebrow, feeling a grin spread across my face. “If it did, I think we’d need a lot more than lung power.”
He gave a half-smile, his tone shifting slightly. “You joke, but honestly, I might have a big ego for a reason. With some of the decisions I have to make, it’s necessary.”
I blinked, caught a little off guard. “Oh, please. What could be stressful about choosing between fifty different shades of navy-blue suits?”
“You’d be surprised,” he replied with mock seriousness, his eyes twinkling. “Do you know how many variations of navy exist? It’s a minefield.”
I snorted. “Your life is truly a hardship. What’s next? You can’t decide which luxury watch to wear?”
Topher placed a hand over his heart, leaning into the joke. “The struggle is real. Too much gold, not enough platinum. It’s a nightmare.”
I laughed. “I’m sure.”
We kept talking, the conversation flowing effortlessly. Somehow, between the jokes and playful jabs, I found myself relaxing even more. It was easy to forget, just for a little while, that we were supposed to be pretending to be something we weren’t.
But then, as I shifted on the lounger, I noticed something strange. The surface beneath me was slowly sinking.
“Topher,” I whispered, nudging him with my elbow. “The beach lounger’s dying.”
He glanced down, and for a moment, he just stared at the deflating palm trees. Then, much to my surprise, he started laughing. Deep, genuine laughter that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I groaned. “All that work was wasted. Come on, we’ve got to find something else for you.”
We tiptoed through the house, gathering every cushion and blanket we could find. Soon, we fashioned a makeshift bed on the floor, layering it with everything soft we could gather. Topher lay down, testing it with a satisfied sigh.
“Not bad.” He flashed me a grin as I climbed into the bed.
I smiled back. “At least you won’t wake up feeling like you’ve been run over by a truck.”
As I lay in bed, the tension in the air slowly dissolved. The guy who seemed to thrive on pressure, who I was convinced hadn’t taken a real break in years, was starting to unwind.
And then, to my surprise, I heard the unmistakable sound of his breathing slowing as he fell asleep. Topher Brodie, the man who probably considered sleep an inconvenience, who once boasted about only needing four hours a night, had dozed off... before me.