Page 46 of Boyfriend Maintenance

“He has a mailbox. And don’t worry, it’s locked and only he has the key, so it’s safe too.”

“That’s perfect.” I take a relaxing breath. I wasn’t feeling great about leaving a fifteen-thousand-dollar check at the desk, but I’ve made worse choices.

“It’s box 104.” She nods toward the mail room.

With a thanks, I turn and walk to the boxes. Finding 104, I slip it right into the box. I wipe my hands on my pants and head back upstairs.

I guess I can now consider this business transaction closed. Which is the only way I can think about it.

I will not cry.

Chapter 18

Jake

I’m still a jackass.

I’ve still not faced Emmy. I haven’t texted her or called her. She texted me a couple days ago. She said she needed to talk to me, but I let the message go unanswered.

I’m not this guy. The guy who sneaks out on a girl after sex. I’m not the kind of guy who doesn’t text back.

I’m not the kind of guy who does this to a woman he actually likes.

I really fucking like Emmy.

This past week without talking to her, seeing her, hearing her voice, it’s made me realize just how much I do like her. I fucking miss her.

Everything Kevin laid out on the floor for me during the ball game has been stirring around in my brain this past week. I’ve thrown myself into work, surprise, surprise. Even on my day off, I ended up coming in and covering a shift for Mel, one of the other guys on the team.

Needless to say, I’ve been thinking about my own issues and insecurities on repeat.

I was hoping I’d see her at some point this week though. In the lobby, near the elevators, even up on her floor. I haven’t been hiding, but I haven’t gone out of my way to seek her out.

I know I could just call her or text her, but I’m a shit and my avoidance skills are in high form right now. I need to apologize, at least.

I’ve got maybe two hours left of my shift and I’m dragging my feet. I wander out in the lobby, for no other reason than I hope to see Emmy on her way home for the day.

I’m just entering the lobby when Lisa, the evening concierge, waves me over. She’s young and attractive, but you know my rule. It goes for co-workers too.

“Hey, Lisa, what's up?” I nod.

“Not much, ready for the weekend. Are you here tomorrow or do you have Saturday off?”

“I’m actually not back on until Sunday night, then I’m here all week.”

“Well enjoy your Saturday and Sunday.” She’s a sweet kid. Okay, she isn’t a kid, twenty-five or so. Around Kev’s age. I still think of him as a kid.

I tap the counter and start to continue my way out of the building when she stops me. “Oh, did you get Emmy’s letter?”

I stop and turn my head toward her.

“Yeah, she had something for you a couple days ago. She put it in your mailbox. It looked important.”

Shit. That damn mailbox.

“No, I didn’t. Thanks for letting me know, Lisa.” I spin on my heel and nearly run to the mail room. It’s not a room per se, but more like a nook, that houses all the mailboxes on a single wall. Each mailbox has a letter-sized slot for easy distribution. I don’t know why, but every employee has a box. I never check mine, it's not as if I ever get mail here. Fortunately, I keep my mail key on my key ring and pop it open.

Sure enough, there is a single envelope sitting there, waiting for me. I pull it out and close the box. Carefully, I rip open the envelope and pull out a check. A fucking check for fifteen grand made out to me. Signed by Emmy King herself.

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