by Ivy Carter
“I’m at the office on Friday night,” I’d said. “I think I’m worse.”
“You are for sure,” she’d said. She let out a big yawn, and I could just imagine her stretching her body out like a cat. I thought, If I get in my car now, I could be there in fifteen minutes. But I still had work to do.
“I don’t want to keep you up,” I said. “I just wanted to say hello and…last night was incredible.”
She laughed again and I wished I could watch her lips curl as she did. Next time I should really call her on video. “Yeah, last night was probably…I don’t know…”
“What?” I’d said. She was getting shy again. I loved it when she got shy. “Tell me what you were going to say.”
“Just that I agree. Last night was incredible.”
“That’s not what you were going to say.”
She sighed. “Fine. I was going to say that last night was probably the most incredible night I’ve ever spent in my life. Happy?”
“Yes, actually. I am happy.” Very happy. Perhaps the happiest I’d ever been. I didn’t want to tell her that, not yet anyway. I still needed to keep my wits about me but I couldn’t deny that she made me feel like nothing mattered but us. When I’m with Emily, Emily is all that matters. “I want to see you again.”
“Okay,” she’d said. “When?”
I looked at the work on my desk—still so much to do. “Let me get through this crisis and then I’ll take a look at my schedule. I’ll call you.”
Once we’d hung up it took me a few minutes to get my head back into the work before me. Hearing her soft bed voice and picturing her laid out in sheets wearing whatever my imagination stirred up made me want to stick my hand down my pants and take care of my urges. But I didn’t. I moved around the office, turned on some music and effectively got back to work. But it wasn’t easy.
Now I’m back in my office with two hundred new emails that need my immediate attention, plus another meeting in five minutes. But instead of dealing with any of that I look at the new text from Emily, which picks up on the random conversation we’ve been having.
The fact that you’ve never been to a water park says you were surely neglected as a child.
I smile. I got plenty of attention as a kid. At boarding school.
I wait for her text to come back. When I see the little bubble on my phone that says she’s writing me right now, I just sit and stare at it, waiting.
She’s got me pretty bad.
That’s so sad! her text reads. She includes an emoji smiley face. Only Emily can get away with that. If it were anyone else, I’d end things right there. Sent off to school and no water park. Too bad you weren’t sent off to water park school. That would’ve been cool.
We started this conversation when Emily texted that although she loves fall in Boston she was sad she’d let summer come and go without so much as touching the water—no beach, no pool, and no water park. I didn’t even know what a water park was, for which she teased me mercilessly.
Instead I wasted my time at business school. What was I thinking?
Hey, I’m not far from you, she writes. Want to meet for coffee?
Yes, yes, I want to write. Screw everything else, I want to run to see her. But instead I write, Wish but I can’t. Another meeting soon.
Ditch!
I’m running the meeting. I think they’d notice if I was missing.
What’s the point of being the boss if you can’t do what you want?
If she only knew that being the boss meant I have so much more responsibility and have to work harder than everyone else. I may not have always agreed with my father but the lessons he taught me about work and leadership have really paid off. My staff respects me, even if they don’t always like me.
I hate thinking of you sitting alone in a café drinking your coffee, I write.
Meh, I think I’ll just go home and study. If your meeting gets out early you know where I live…
“Mr. Jackson? Are you ready?”
“Yes, Sandra,” I say, smiling as I close the screen on my phone. God, there’s nothing I’d rather do right now than go see Emily. Burrowing down in bed with her as the rain falls outside sounds like perfection. But it’s true—being the boss means I have be at all these meetings, making the decisions that will ensure the company’s growth.
As Sandra and I walk down the hall for the next meeting, I have an idea.
“Sandra, could you do me a favor?” I give her the details and she assures me that she’ll take care of everything.
Another one of the perks of being the boss: lots of people around me who can make great things happen.
I stepped away from things with Genevieve, not that there was really anything to step away from. One dinner and a few texts was all. After Emily spent the night I cancelled our plans to attend the ballet and told her things were too intense at work for much outside enjoyment. Genevieve understood what I meant. She’s probably already on to the next blue blood, looking for a husband and sperm donor to fill up the family home in Louisburg Square.
I make my way through the day’s meetings, filled with PowerPoint presentations, graphs, video call-ins, projections and baselines, one debate over a commodity report that almost turned ugly, and more coffee than I can count.
It’s almost seven when I go back to my office. Sandra is still there at her desk.
“What are you still doing here?” I ask her.
“I wanted to let you know it’s all set. Just let them know what evening and they’ll arrange for it.”
Having money certainly has its perks. Emily isn’t going to believe what I have planned for us.
“Damn…” is all I can say Saturday night when Emily steps out of the car I sent to pick her up at her place. I’d planned to get her myself, but yet another work emergency popped up and I spent my day ripping incompetent staff who are too lazy to do a job right the first time.
But Emily…Emily looks stunning. I walk toward her, my body already eager to be up against her in a slim-fitting dress with spaghetti-type straps and heels that could pierce my heart. She wears a black pashmina to keep her warm.
“It’s okay?” she asks, smoothing her dress with her hand.
“More than okay.” I wrap my arm around her and bring her in for a kiss, a light but sweet scent about her. “You look stunning.”
She smiles. “Well, I had to go shopping because I don’t exactly have the clothes for this stuff.” She nods up toward the top of the building we’re entering. “I looked at it online and it’s like, super fancy.”
“It’s not super fancy,” I say. I take her hand and lead her inside to the elevators. “But it is elegant.”
“I hope I know which fork to use,” she says.
I push the button for the fifty-second floor. We’re alone, and Emily looks more beautiful than ever, so of course I can’t help but make use of the ride. I press her up against the wall and our mouths come together. The taste of her is better than anything that could possibly be on the restaurant’s menu, I am sure of it. I slide my hands over her hips as she pulls my body closer to hers. God, how will I make it through dinner?
The elevator slows and we both pull back. Emily quickly straightens her dress and wipes around her mouth.
“Now I have to go to the ladies room to fix myself back up,” she says.
“You don’t need it,” I say, kissing her cheek as we arrive at the host stand.
“Good evening, Mr. Jackson,” the woman says. “If you’re ready we can seat you now.”
“Come on,” I tell Emily, taking her hand. “You look perfect.”
Her eyes are darting around the space, taking it all in. “I guess it’s dark enough that you can’t see if my face is all red now.”
I didn’t think Emily was the type to really worry about this stuff, but as we walk across the restaurant at the top of the Prudential Center and overlooking all of Boston, she looks a bit self-conscious.
“This view is amazing,”
Emily says once we’re seated at a round table in a quiet corner near the window. I love watching her see and do things for the first time. It’s not just the wonder in her eyes, but the appreciation of what she’s seeing. It’s something I have lost over the years. I’m so used to certain things, like the view from the top of one of the tallest buildings in Boston. I’ve been in this restaurant more times than I can count, for business luncheons and a date or two over the years.
Emily turns to me, her face bright with childish excitement. “Look! You’re not looking!”
“I’m looking.”
She rolls her eyes. Pointing dramatically at the window she demands, “There.”
“Give me your hand first,” I say. Her face softened as she rests her hand on the table and I take it in mine. We look out at the view, the night darkening into rich blues and yellow, the lights of the city beginning to sparkle.
As the courses begin rolling in and we’re finishing our first bottle of champagne, Emily says, “This is all too much. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” I ask.
She motions around the room. “It’s so fancy! You could have taken me to a pizza joint and I would have been happy.”
“Would you rather have gone to a pizza place?” Earlier in the evening she’d kept looking around the room, and not at the beauty of the décor but I think at the other women and how they were dressed. She kept fussing with the straps on her dress, or tugging down the hem. When the salad was served she waited for me to pick up the proper fork before picking up her own.
“No,” she says. “I mean, I know this amazing place in the South End but good pizza really can’t compare to these scallops. They melt in my mouth like butter.”
“One thing you can be sure of,” I say, “is that when you’re with me, you’ll always eat well.”
“So what if we want a late-night snack?” she asks. “Are we going to come back up here?”
“They have a late-night menu in the lounge,” I say.
She laughs and shakes her head. “You do not live in the real world.”
“Sure I do. It’s just an alternate version.”
“Exactly,” she says. She takes a sip of her champagne, watching me closely. “Give me some of that lobster.”
“Whatever you want,” I say, feeding it to her, watching her wrap her lips around the fork just she did at Prime & Tender. “Admit it. You like this world.”
She savors the lobster for a moment—it’s truly the best I’ve ever had, so tender and fresh.
“This is nice, don’t get me wrong,” she says. “But this all the time? It’s unnecessary.”
“I’m starting to rethink my plans for the second half of the evening.”
“There’s more?” I nod yes.
“Emily, this is only dinner. The real surprise is afterward.”
“What, your place?” Her foot reaches over to my leg under the table, touching me lightly, letting me know what she’s thinking.
“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that afterward,” I say. “But there’s something right after dinner that I have planned.”
“You’re spoiling me,” she says. The grin that plays on her lips says she likes it.
“You deserve it,” I tell her. “Watching you experience this stuff is worth it.”
“I don’t know if I could ever get used to it,” she says, gazing out at the view.
“What do you mean?” I ask, curious. She seems to be saying something bigger, about the future. We haven’t talked about a future or a true commitment—although I’m totally committed to her in a way I’ve never been with a woman—but I’ve already felt that we could work out. We could be together for the long term. Fine, marriage. I barely let myself think that word since it’s something I’ve never thought about for myself. I know it would be easy in the sense that it could fix things for work but I don’t want to exploit Emily, or push her into something for my own benefit. But Emily makes me think about those things. With Emily, I can see that kind of future. Now, though, is she saying she can’t see it?
“I don’t know,” she says. “I was just raised more simply, that a meal at home is more meaningful than at a table floating above the city. That’s why we have Sunday brunches. I don’t go out to my parent’s place in Lexington every weekend but I go as often as I can, and so do my brother and sister. It’s casual, nothing fancy, but some of my best memories are from sitting around that table, eating food we cooked ourselves.”
“I cooked for you.” I have to admit, I’m feeling a bit defensive. Does she not like what I have to offer her?
“I know,” she says, reaching out for my hand. “I’m not saying…I don’t know what I’m saying but I’m pretty sure I sound like a jerk. Jackson, this is incredible. I love it. No one has ever treated me like this. It makes me feel…special.”
“You are special,” I tell her, kissing her hand. “You deserve to be treated to the best views and the best food and the best wine. The best of everything.”
“I’m not sure if I deserve all of that,” she says.
“I can cancel the second half of tonight if you want me to,” I say, praying she won’t actually do that.
“No,” she says. Now her face is light and full of mischief. “I want that surprise. I can’t wait to see what you’ve drummed up.”
“I think you’ll like it,” I tease her. “If you’re not too much of a snob about it.”
“I’m not a snob!” she says, leaning toward me, her scent wafting over me.
“Come here,” I say. She leans closer and I kiss her lips because her protests are too cute.
“How can I be a snob if I’m broke?” she says.
“Emily Brown, may I suggest a theory?”
“What?” she says, tipping back her champagne flute.
“I think you might be prejudice against people of wealth.”
She almost chokes on the champagne.
“That’s not even a thing,” she says when she recovers.
“Sure it is,” I say with total seriousness. “You look down on people with money.”
“You are people with money. I wouldn’t be here if that were true.”
“Maybe you’re gathering evidence. Maybe you’re using me to find all the terrible things I do with my money so that you can report back to the middle class.” I quite like joking with her, but when I look at her I see that her face has changed.
“Jackson, I really hope you don’t think I’m using you,” she says. “I would never do that. I didn’t mean to act unappreciative…”
“Stop,” I say, reaching out for her again. I shift in my seat and lean in closer to her face. “I don’t think that for a second. I promise.”
“Because I could sit in the Public Gardens with you and watch the ducks and I’d be just as happy.”
“Emily,” I say. “I like taking you out. I like watching you experience things you’ve never seen or done. It makes me happy. Okay?”
She nods and leans toward me to seal it with a kiss. I keep her hands in mine, loving their warmth.
I’m really starting to believe that everything is going to work out—with Emily and the company and Father’s deathbed demands.
Later, once dinner is finished (“No dessert,” I tell Emily. “Not here, anyway.”), we take the private car just a few blocks to one of the city’s most elegant resident hotels. Emily thinks we’re getting a room for the night, but I remind her that I have plenty of my own rooms, and more than enough privacy. “But this place,” I tell her, “has one thing I don’t.”
“I literally can’t even imagine what that is,” she says, but she looks excited, ready for the game.
Once again we take the elevator to the top floor, but this one isn’t quite as high—only twenty-eight stories high.
When the doors open at the top, we step into a warm dim glow of light.
“Good evening, Mr. Jackson, Ms. Brown,” the woman who greets us says. There’s a gentleman with a tray nearby with
two glasses of champagne. I say hello and take the champagne, handing one to Emily.
“I hope you like the surprise,” I say. I want her to be impressed, by how I treat her and I suppose what I can give her, even if she says she’s not really into all this stuff. It’s the only way I know how to show how I feel.
“I’m with you, aren’t I?” she says. “Nothing else matters.”
And that’s why she’s got my heart so hooked on her.
The greeter directs Emily into a nearby dressing and me into the other side. I told them to do this, to keep us separated while we changed. I wanted to give her a moment alone to collect herself and, I don’t know, do any of the odd things I imagine women must do to fix themselves up when they’re on a date. Plus, I knew being apart to take our clothes off would heighten her curiosity.
“Are we getting a massage or something?” she asks when she meets me in her plush robe and slippers, looking so adorable I almost can’t handle it.
“No,” I say. “Maybe later though, if you’re good.”
I take her hand and guide her through the space and out onto the terrace, where I have had the building’s heated pool closed off to all the residents and hotel guests. Candles line the pool’s perimeter, the lights glow electric, and the hot tub bubbles. The city’s view is dark and sparkling and we are the only two people in the world.
“Jackson,” she says. Her face washes with wonder. It makes me smile, which I’ve been doing a lot of since I met Emily. “You are out of your mind.”
“I know it’s a little cool outside,” I say, “but the pool is heated and there’s the hot tub too. Summer may be over but you can still get wet.”
She pauses from her awe and gives me a look. “Very funny.” Still, she wraps her arms around me and says, “This is the coolest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, Jackson Croft.”
“You’re very welcome,” I say, and kiss her. I didn’t plan to do anything but swim a little here—it was more the thought of the pool than the actual swimming—but knowing how little she has on underneath that robe, if anything at all, is already making me pretty anxious. “Do you want to get in?”
