Going Deep (Imperfect Love Book 2)

by Nikki Ash

  “Yep,” Dylan confirms.

  “Is she married? Have kids?”

  “I didn’t tell him to find anything out. I have a phone number and address. I’ll text it to you. I think if you want to know about her it’s best if you find out from her yourself.”

  “You’re right,” I agree. “I’ll give her a call and see if she’s up to meet with me. I can even visit Mom and Dad while I’m there.”

  “Good idea,” he says. “Are you going alone?” He knows Giselle and I are dating. I didn’t tell him about her old job as an escort, but he knows things are serious between us. I try to imagine flying to North Carolina by myself, but I can’t picture it. I’d love to introduce her to my parents and show her where I grew up.

  “I’m going to ask Giselle to go with me.”

  “All right, cool. Let me know if you need anything. Don’t forget your niece’s birthday is next weekend.”

  “I won’t. I’ll talk to you later.”

  We hang up and I text Giselle: Dinner tonight? I can pick you up from work.

  She responds immediately: Can’t. I’m sorry. Working late. Rain check?

  Shoving my phone into my pocket, I head out to the main lobby of Forbidden Ink. This is the third time this week she’s asked for a rain check because of work. My only thought is that maybe because of the lack of paycheck from A Touch of Class, she’s asked for more hours at Fresh Designs. I hate to think she’s struggling now to make ends meet because of me, but it makes sense. She needed that income and now it’s gone.

  “Sorry about that,” I say to Jase. “My brother called. The addition looks amazing.” I slide my card across the counter and he takes it to ring me up.

  “No worries.” He hands me the receipt to fill out. “So…uh…have you seen Celeste lately?” My gaze leaves the receipt and lands on Jase. Why the hell is he asking about Celeste? And then I remember the night of Giselle’s birthday and the awkward as fuck vibes Jase and Celeste gave off…

  “Here and there…I think she said something about Paris.” I shrug. He nods, trying to appear nonchalant but his eyes are darting all over the place like he’s nervous.

  “You don’t like her, do you?” I’m well aware I sound like a gossipy teenage girl.

  “Nah.” He shakes his head emphatically and clears his throat.

  “You sure?” I ask while I fill out the tip and sign my name.

  “Yeah, man. The last time I saw her she left a bit pissed, and I was just wondering how she’s doing. Forget I asked.” He takes the receipt from me and hands me back my card.

  And that’s when I remember something. “You know Celeste…” Jase’s face doesn’t give anything away. “When I was in college, you came to the campus looking for her.” It was a good ten years ago, but now that I’m thinking about it, it was clear that day he not only knew Celeste but was really upset.

  “That was a long time ago,” Jase says. “And to be honest, I don’t think I ever knew her.”

  “She doesn’t seem to let a lot of people in,” I tell him. A few weeks ago I would’ve told him she’s a gold-digging bitch and to run, but now, after seeing how wrong I was about Giselle, I’m done assuming the worst in every female. Giselle, Olivia, and Nick are good people and all three of them like and care about Celeste, so that has to mean something. “From what Nick’s said over the years, Celeste’s upbringing caused her to keep most people at arm’s length. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I wouldn’t take it personal. Celeste’s sole focus has always been on her career.” I’m not putting her down, but being honest. The woman came from nothing and has made it her life mission to make herself into something, and she’s done just that. If nothing else, Celeste Leblanc is determined.

  Jase flinches but doesn’t respond. He extends his hand and we shake. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Quinn isn’t here right now, but give her a call when you’re ready to set up your next appointment.”

  “Sounds good, man.”

  I head out and jump into my car. I check my phone and remember I never texted Giselle back. It’s already after six. An idea hits me. She mentioned working late, but she needs to eat. She might be stuck in the office, but I can bring dinner to her. Stopping by the deli, I order us some soups and sandwiches, then drive over to Giselle’s office. When I get to her floor, the place, for the most part, is empty.

  “May I help you?” an older woman asks, stepping out of what I assume is her office.

  “I’m looking for Giselle.”

  The woman’s brows furrow slightly, then she must remember her manners because she smiles and introduces herself. “I’m Lydia, Giselle’s boss.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Killian, her boyfriend.” The title rolls off my tongue easily. We haven’t discussed labels, but giving myself that title feels right.

  Lydia looks confused but quickly composes herself. “It’s nice to meet you as well,” she says, but it’s obvious Giselle hasn’t mentioned me. “Unfortunately Giselle isn’t here. Our office closes at six.”

  “Is it possible she stayed late to work?” I eye the hallway which leads to her office.

  “Occasionally she does, but tonight she actually left a few minutes early, so no, it’s not possible.”

  A sinking feeling hits me hard. I thank her and head back to the elevator. When I get back in my car, I text Giselle: Where are you?

  A few minutes later, she texts back: I told you I’m working.

  There’s no way she lied to me, right? She wouldn’t tell me she quit working for A Touch of Class and it not be true. Not wanting to play games, I go for the truth.

  Me: I’m at your office and you’re not here.

  The bubbles indicating she’s typing appear…then disappear. This happens several times before they disappear for good. A minute later my phone rings.

  “You’re at Fresh Designs?” she asks, sounding out of breath.

  “Yes, and you’re not.”

  “You came to check up on me?” Accusation drips in her words.

  “I came to bring you dinner.”

  She sighs. “I’m not there.”

  “I know.”

  Another sigh.

  “Giselle, talk to me, baby.” Whatever it is we’ll figure it out.

  “Promise me you’ll listen before you react.” Jesus, fuck.

  “Giselle…”

  “A friend of mine who works at A Touch of Class mentioned a popular nightclub recently opened, so for the hell of it I applied.” I notice she doesn’t name the club. “I didn’t think I would get hired, but I did.”

  “And that’s why you haven’t been able to hang out…” The pieces are slowly coming together.

  “Yes, because I’ve been working evenings.”

  “When did you get hired?”

  “Umm…like two weeks ago.” I do the math in my head. The day after we met with her mom and went to her dad’s place she mentioned she had an appointment. Several times since then she’s canceled our plans. She must’ve been working and didn’t tell me. Why wouldn’t she tell me?

  “Giselle, what club are you working at?” I close my eyes and wait for the blow. The one I know is coming.

  “Assets,” she whispers.

  Fuck! The goddamned strip club. A high class one no less, but still a strip club.

  “I’m not stripping,” she rushes out.

  “Then what are you doing there?” I try to keep my voice composed, but fuck, this woman is going to be the death of me.

  “I’m waitressing and working the bar. I worked the bar throughout college…” We’re both silent for a beat, and then Giselle adds, “Please don’t be mad.”

  “I’m coming to get you.”

  “Kill, please. I searched all over New York for a job! You don’t understand how hard it is to find a job that will pay me enough to cover my sister’s school and my school loans. Sure, the house being sold helps, but I still need to find a place to live and r
ent isn’t cheap. I have a masters in interior freaking design. I might as well not even have a college degree. The tips I make here are more than I make working at Fresh Designs.”

  I put my car in drive and peel out. “I get it, babe. I do. But you’re not working there. I’ll be there in ten minutes. You can come out willingly or I’ll carry your ass out.”

  Giselle gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would.”

  “There’s no way my boss—”

  “Benjamin Fields?” I laugh humorlessly. “Trust me, he won’t do a damn thing about it.”

  “You know him?” she shrieks. “Of course you do! You’re a goddamned NFL player. You know everybody!”

  “Eight minutes, Giselle,” I warn.

  “Kill, please! I’m on break. I took it just to call you.”

  “And now you’re clocking out. Seven minutes.”

  I click end on the call and throw my phone into the center console. Damn woman is testing my patience. I’m pissed as hell she’d get a job at a fucking strip club without telling me, but at the same time, it’s what I love about her. She’s hellbent on being independent, and she’s determined to take care of her mom and sister. While I’m furious, I’m also pretty sure I just fell even more in love with her.

  I pull up to the valet and park my car. “I’ll only be a minute,” I yell to the guy. When I get up to the front, the bouncer who scans in the VIP members immediately recognizes me. Assets is a newer club but already well-known. Several of my teammates have VIP memberships here.

  “Killian, how are you?”

  “Good. You?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  “I didn’t know you were a VIP member.” He types away on his iPad. Before I can correct him and explain why I’m here, out walks Giselle from the side door. Her hair is in a high, tight ponytail. Her makeup way overdone. She’s wearing sweats and a hoodie, which means she changed out of whatever the uniform is. I expect her to be mad, furious even, but she’s not. She’s frowning and her eyes appear to be glassed over like she’s about to cry.

  “I’m not,” I tell the bouncer. “I’m just here to pick up my girlfriend.” I wrap my arm around Giselle’s shoulders and kiss her cheek. “You ready?” I ask her, and she nods wordlessly.

  The ride home is quiet, and once we’re inside, Giselle excuses herself to shower. I consider joining her, but figure she needs some time to herself. I reheat the soups and place the sandwiches on plates. I pour us both something to drink then wait for her to get done. When she comes out, she’s in my boxers and Henley. Her hair is in a messy bun and her face is makeup-free. She’s back to looking fucking gorgeous.

  She sits across from me at the table and thanks me for the food before she starts to eat. We eat in silence for a few minutes, and then she finally speaks. “I’m in debt with over a hundred thousand dollars in student loans. The interest accrues every month.”

  I set my spoon down to give her my full attention.

  “My mom’s house sold, but because of the second loan my dad took out on it, which was probably to help out his other family, I only got so much from the sale, and now I need to find a place to live. My mom is due to get out in a few weeks. She needs somewhere to go.”

  I nod in understanding.

  “Right now, my sister has zero financial aid, which means I have to cover her tuition, room, board, books, and food card, plus her car insurance, which comes out to over sixty thousand dollars a year. And even once she applies for financial aid in the fall, it won’t cover everything.”

  She continues, “You paid for my mom’s care at the facility, but once she gets out, she will need to see a psychiatrist several times a week. And then there’s her medications. Right now she has no insurance, and the quotes I’ve been given, due to her condition, are over ten thousand a year.”

  I do the math in my head, unsure how this woman hasn’t collapsed from the weight she’s been forced to carry.

  “I make pennies at Fresh Designs. I’m busting my ass and Lydia keeps telling me that soon I’ll be hired on as a regular employee with benefits, but even if or when that happens, it will only put a dent in the money I need to shell out.”

  Giselle stands and comes around to my side of the table. She climbs into my lap and straddles me. I back up slightly to give us room. “I love you,” she tells me. “Tonight, when you called me your girlfriend to the bouncer, it felt like my heart leapt right out of my chest.”

  “You are my girlfriend,” I tell her. “I love you, baby.” I give her a kiss.

  “Tell me a job where I can make enough to pay for everything I need to pay for.” I don’t need to think about it. I know there isn’t one that doesn’t require her to fuck someone or at the very least take her clothes off.

  “The NFL,” I joke. She glares, but there’s a hint of a smile threatening to come out.

  “Killian, I’m serious.”

  “I am too. I make enough money to pay for all of that. I get you want to be independent, but let me help you, please.” There’s no way she’s going to agree, but I have to try.

  She wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me tightly. Her face nuzzles into the crook of my neck, and her lips kiss my flesh softly. “I can’t let you do that, Kill. I love you for offering, but we’ve barely even started dating.”

  “We’ll figure it out, Giselle,” I murmur. “But please don’t work at Assets.”

  She lifts her head and eyes me. “Are you actually asking me not to work there and not demanding it?”

  “I was mad, baby. Shocked. But we both know I can’t force you not to work somewhere.”

  She nods and gives me a chaste kiss. “Thank you for not demanding it. I told Benjamin I made a mistake and quit.” My body sags in relief.

  “My brother found Melanie,” I tell her, changing the subject. “She’s in Cedar Wood Acres, North Carolina. It’s only about twenty minutes from where we went to college. I grew up in the next town over.”

  “Are you going to go see her?”

  “I am, and I was hoping you would come with me.”

  Her face lights up, telling me I made the right decision by asking her to join me. “I would love to.”

  “How about this weekend? I know it’s last minute, but maybe you could take a day or two off work. We could take an early flight and make a long weekend out of it. I would love for you to meet my parents while we’re there.”

  “I have a few personal days left I can use,” she says. “Let’s do it.”

  “And when we get back, we’ll figure out your financial situation,” I add.

  She nods, but her smile loses its brightness. “Okay,” she agrees.

  Twenty-Four

  Giselle

  “This was my locker.” Killian points to the half-rusted metal rectangle. His face lights up like it’s a box that once held all of his hopes and dreams. “And this is where my coach told me I had a shot at playing in the NFL.” He walks us over to a tiny office with a big smile. On our way here, he mentioned this is his first time showing a woman around where he went to school. I love that I get to be that woman. He knows so much about me, and I love every time I learn more about what makes Killian who he is.

  After speaking with Lydia, who assured me she was okay with me taking a few personal days—after I promised to work remotely—we took an early flight out of JFK to Charlotte. We’re going to check into our hotel this afternoon, and Killian has spoken to Melanie, who has agreed to meet him for dinner this evening. Tomorrow, the plan is to spend the day with his parents. But this morning, Killian is showing me some of his favorite spots, starting with the University of North Carolina. We’ve seen the football field, the cafeteria, and he even convinced the kid currently residing in his old dorm to let him show me around. Of course, once the kid recognized Killian as one of the wide receivers for the New York Brewers, he practically gave him the room. Right now, we’re currently standing in a smelly locker room he’s showing me around.

  Whi
le I’d rather not be in here, where it’s clear football players aren’t aware of the benefits of deodorant, the prideful look on his face and the twinkle in his eye as he speaks makes it all worth it.

  We spend the next hour catching up with his old coaches. They share some funny stories of Killian as a college football player. A few of the players are in the locker room for a Saturday practice, so Killian talks to them about working hard and making sure to take school seriously. I learn Killian has a business degree, and had he not made it into the NFL, he planned to get his MBA. When Killian tells them we need to get going, his old coaches make us promise not to be strangers.

  “New York is where you were drafted to?” I ask as we walk out of the locker room and head to our rental car. North Carolina is so different from NYC. It’s quiet, low-key, and people are actually friendly. It’s hard to imagine Killian being happy here and then moving to New York.

  “Yep, I’ve been there for ten years.” He opens my door for me and I get in.

  Once he’s inside, I ask, “Do you think you will retire in New York?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “At this point in my career, if they made the decision to trade me, I would retire before I would move.”

  “Even if it meant not playing?” I ask, curiously.

  “Most wide receivers retire by the age of thirty. I’m almost thirty-two. I’ve had a damn good career. I’ve even won a Super Bowl, something most can’t say. Every year I play now is just a bonus.” He glances over at me and his hand goes to my jean-clad thigh, squeezing it gently.

  “Kind of ironic,” I say, “you’re at an age of retirement and I’m still trying to get a real job in my chosen profession.” I laugh.

  “You’ll get there, Giselle. You’re hard-working and motivated.”

  “I know, it just seems like we’re at different points in our lives.” I’m not sure why I say that. Even to my own ears I can hear doubt creeping in. The differences between us. Wondering how this is all going to work. Maybe it’s knowing he’s going to meet with Melanie today. Maybe I’m scared that once he sees her and gets his closure, he’ll question why he’s with me. He asked to be broken and lonely with me, but what happens once he’s healed? When he’s no longer broken? Will he still want me when he’s fixed and whole and perfect while I’m still damaged?