Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Simon
I shook two aspirin in my hand and chased them down with a glass of water while my coffee brewed.
“That bad?” Bella walked into the kitchen.
“I probably shouldn’t have done those last two shots last night,” I smirked.
My coffee had finished brewing. Bella grabbed the mug and handed it to me.
“Thank you.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “What are your plans for today?”
“Well, since you’re going to the football game with Christian, I’m going shopping for new clothes for my new job.” She grinned.
“Good idea,” I said, reaching into my wallet and pulling out my credit card.
“No, Simon. I’m buying my own clothes.”
“Fine,” I sighed, putting the card back inside my wallet.
A couple of hours later, Bella was racing around the penthouse.
“Have you seen my phone?” she asked.
“No. Last time I saw it was when you were texting your mom in the kitchen.”
“And I haven’t had it since.”
“Do you want me to call it?” I asked.
“It’s on silent. We won’t hear it.”
I walked into the kitchen to help her look for it. I opened every drawer, and when I opened the pantry cabinet, my brows furrowed.
“Bella, care to explain why the milk is in the pantry and not in the refrigerator?”
“Huh?” She walked over. “Shit. Why would I do that?”
I grabbed the milk, opened the refrigerator, and laughed when I saw her phone sitting there where the milk usually goes.
“Found it.” I held it up.
“What the actual fuck?” she said. “I’m losing my mind.”
“You’re tired.” I smiled. “I have to go. Christian texted me a few minutes ago that he’s down in the lobby.” I kissed her forehead.
“Have fun at the game.”
“Have fun shopping.” I winked.
The elevator door opened. I stepped into the lobby, and Christian glanced at his watch.
“You’re late.”
“By three minutes,” I said.
“You're never late. “Bella?” His eyes narrowed.
We stepped out of the building. “Why do you automatically assume it had something to do with Bella?”
“Because it does.” He chuckled as we climbed into his car.
“That isn’t true, Christian.”
“The hell it isn’t. Where is she right now?”
“In the penthouse,” I said.
“So why were you late? Were you fucking or something?”
“No. She couldn’t find her phone.”
“Wait a minute. You were late because Bella couldn’t find her phone?”
“Yeah. I helped her look for it.”
He threw his head back and laughed.
“Fuck off,” I said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Where was her phone?” he asked.
“In the refrigerator.”
He glanced at me longer than he should have.
“Will you keep your eyes on the road?”
“How the hell did her phone end up in the refrigerator?”
“Probably the same way the milk ended up in the pantry.”
“Simon, this woman has completely disrupted your life.”
“You have no idea.” I shook my head. “I tore up the list of rules.”
“What? Why?”
“Because starting tomorrow, she’s working at MDG.”
“Wow. Okay. How did that happen?” he asked as he pulled into the stadium parking garage.
“Montclair Tribeca is a shitshow. We’re sitting on fifty-plus unsold units and losing millions every day. She watched the marketing videos, told me why nobody is buying, and had some really good ideas. My father and I created a new division at MDG called Montclair Living.”
Christian and I headed inside the stadium. We’d had season tickets for years. Same seats, and the same routine. Football, beer, food, and a few hours where nobody talked business.
“So let me get this straight,” Christian said. “You’re not kicking her out of your penthouse come October 31st?”
“No. I’ll let her stay a while longer until she can afford a place of her own. I suspect a couple more months.”
I’d caught myself the other night when I told Bella she could stay until she could afford a place of her own.
I wasn’t sure if I meant to say that or not.
And every time I thought about walking into the penthouse and not seeing her shit scattered around, I felt something I didn’t like. None of this was supposed to happen.
“And you’re just going to let her go like that?” Christian’s brow raised as we sat in our seats.
“I don’t know.”
The game started. I held my phone in my hand and glanced at it more times than I should have. Christian noticed.
“You’ve already checked your phone six times,” he said.
“I have not.” My brows furrowed as I glanced at my phone.
“Seven now,” he said.
I set it face down on the ledge in front of us.
“Happy?” I glanced at him.
“No. I’m concerned.”
“About what?” I took a sip of my beer.
“You, Simon.”
“Don’t be.”
My phone pinged. I immediately grabbed it and saw a text from Bella. It was a picture of her in a pantsuit in the fitting room. I smiled.
I’m obsessed. What do you think?
It looks beautiful on you.
Thanks. Go back to your game.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Holy shit!” Christian exclaimed.
“What? What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” he said.
“Then why are you shouting holy shit?”
“Because you’re smiling at your phone,” he said.
“So?”
“Simon Montclair doesn’t smile at his phone. Ever!”
“Shut up,” I sighed.
“Is that Bella?”
“Yes.” I slipped my phone into my pocket.
“What did she send you?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Bullshit. Was it dirty?” He nudged my shoulder.
“No.”
“Then why the fuck were you smiling?”
I didn’t answer him and stared straight ahead at the field.
“Oh, fuck,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re in love with her.”
I looked at him and didn’t say a word. Not because what he said shocked me. It didn’t. That was the fucked-up part. I’d already known.
“Christ, Simon. You are,” he said.
“Yeah.” I turned my attention back to the game.
One fucking word was all it took to make my chest tighten.
“Yeah?” Christian leaned closer.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“You’re saying you’re in love with Bella?”
“You heard me the first time. Knock it off.”
“I need clarification because I’ve known you since we were kids, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you say love and relationships are bullshit a million times.
You said marriage was a legally binding hostage situation.
You said relationships were obligations people voluntarily signed up for and then spent years trying to escape. ”
“I may have said that,” I said. “People change.”
Christian stared at me as I drank my beer.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked.
“Can we just watch the game?”
“The game can wait,” he said.
“It literally can’t. That’s how live sports work.”
“I don’t give a shit. When did this happen?” he asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I sighed. “It just happened. She moved in, drove me fucking insane, ignored half my rules, argued with me about everything, and started moving shit around.”
“And that made you fall in love?” His brow arched.
“I’m not finished,” I said. “I started expecting her to be there. The second I got home from work, I’d look for her. I know what coffee she drinks. I know when something’s bothering her before she tells me. And I know she talks to herself.” I smiled. “And when she’s not there, the penthouse feels—”
“Feels what?” Christian asked.
“Empty.”
Christian didn’t say a word as he placed his hand on my shoulder.
“She was supposed to be temporary. That was the arrangement,” I said.
“Of course it was. You wrote rules for a grown woman because she was living in your penthouse.”
“They were reasonable rules,” I said.
“Was one of them don’t fall in love with me?”
“No.” I frowned.
“Should have been.” He grinned. “Does she know you’re in love with her?”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” he asked.
“Because I haven’t told her,” I said.
“No shit. Does she love you?”
“I don’t know, Christian.”
“Come on, Simon.”
“Listen, I’d spent so much of my life avoiding the fucking thing that I’m not sure I trust myself to recognize it when it’s standing in front of me.”
“Then tell her,” he said.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?”
“Because, my whole life, I’ve looked at relationships and seen everything that can go wrong. My parents, and other people’s marriages. People who start out happy and end up fucking miserable.”
“You are not your mother or father, Simon.”
“I know that. I also know I don’t want her to leave.”
“There’s your answer. Tell her before it’s too late.”
Everyone shouted and jumped to their feet.
“Touchdown!” Christian threw his arms up.
I stared at the field, but my mind was already somewhere else. At home, with Bella. It made me want to get the hell out of the stadium, go home, pull her into my arms, and tell her that I loved her. The problem was whether I was ready to tell her why.