Verity(25)
Her eyes didn’t follow me.
I drop my hand and lean against the wall, watching as April walks back outside with a towel. She wipes Verity’s chin and then takes a small pillow from Verity’s lap and lifts her head, placing it between her shoulder and her cheek. With her head adjusted, she’s no longer staring into the window.
“Shit,” I whisper to no one.
I’m scared of a woman who can barely move and can’t even speak. A woman who can’t willingly turn her head to look at someone, much less make intentional eye contact.
I need water.
I open the office door, but let out a yelp when my cell phone rings behind me on the desk.
Dammit. I hate adrenaline. My pulse is racing, but I blow out a breath and try to calm down as I answer the phone. It’s an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Ashleigh?”
“This is she.”
“This is Donovan Baker from Creekwood apartments. You put in an application a few days ago?”
I’m relieved to have a distraction. I walk back over to the window, and the nurse has moved Verity’s chair so that I’m only looking at the back of her head now. “Yes, how can I help you?”
“I’m calling because the application you submitted was processed today. Unfortunately, there was a recent eviction that showed up in your name, so we can’t approve you for the apartment.”
Already? I just moved out a couple of days ago. “But my application was already approved with you guys. I’m supposed to move in next week.”
“Actually, you were only pre-approved. Your application wasn’t fully processed until today. We can’t approve applications with recent evictions. I hope you understand.”
I squeeze the back of my neck. I won’t get my money for another two weeks. “Please,” I say to him, trying not to sound as pathetic as I feel right now. “I’ve never been late on my rent until now. I was just hired for another job, and in two weeks, if you let me move in now, I can pay you an entire year’s rent. I swear.”
“You can always appeal the decision,” he says. “It might take a few weeks, but I’ve seen applications get approved due to extenuating circumstances.”
“I don’t have a few weeks. I already moved out of my last apartment.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll email you our decision, and at the bottom of the email, contact that number for an appeal. Have a good day, Ms. Ashleigh.”
He ends the call, but I still have the phone pressed to my ear as I squeeze my neck. I’m hoping I’ll wake up from this nightmare any second now. Thank you, Mother. What the hell am I going to do now?
There’s a soft knock on the office door. I spin around, startled again. I can’t deal with today. Jeremy is standing in the office entryway, looking at me with a face full of empathy.
I left the door open when my phone rang. He probably heard that entire conversation. I can tack mortified onto the list of adjectives that describe today.
I set my phone on Verity’s desk, then fall into her desk chair. “My life wasn’t always this much of a hot mess.”
He laughs a little, stepping into the room. “Neither was mine.”
I appreciate that comment. I look down at my phone. “It’s fine,” I say, spinning my phone around in a circle. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I can loan you money until your advance is processed through your agent. I’ll have to pull it from our mutual fund, but it can be here in three days.”
I have never been this embarrassed, and I know he can see it because I practically curl into myself as I lean forward on the desk and drop my face into my hands.
“That’s really sweet, but I’m not taking a loan from you.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then chooses to take a seat on the couch. He sits casually, leaning forward, clasping his hands in front of him. “Then stay here until your advance hits your account. It’ll only be a week or two.” He looks around the office, seeing how much progress I haven’t made since I arrived yesterday. “We don’t mind. You aren’t in the way at all.”
I shake my head, but he interrupts.
“Lowen. This job you’ve taken on is not easy. I’d rather you spend too much time in here prepping for it than get back to New York tomorrow and realize you should have stayed longer.”
I do need more time. But two weeks in this house? With a woman who scares me, a manuscript I shouldn’t be reading, and a man I know way too many intimate details about?
It’s not a good idea. None of it is good.
I start to shake my head again, but he holds up a hand. “Stop being considerate. Stop being embarrassed. Just say alright.”
I look past him, at all the boxes lining the walls behind him. The things I haven’t even touched yet. And then I think about how, with two weeks in here, I would have time to read every book in her backlist, make notes on each of them, and possibly outline the three new ones.
I sigh, conceding with a little bit of relief. “Alright.”
He smiles a little, then stands up and walks toward the door.
“Thank you,” I say.
Jeremy turns back around and faces me. I wish I had let him walk out the door, because I swear I can see a trace of regret in his expression. He opens his mouth, like he wants to say, “You’re welcome,” or “No problem.” But he just closes his mouth and forces a smile, and then shuts the door behind him when he leaves.