Page 137 of The One I Hate
“And did he?”
I shake my head. “He was pretty stoned. It’s just easier if I pick them up and have them delivered each week.”
“Does that kind of customer service go to all your tenants?”
Okay, now I’m getting angry. “I’m not a slum lord, Emmett.”
“I’m not saying you are.” Emmett takes a deep breath. “I’m just saying, if this were one of your Nashville properties, or any of the other Rolling Hills buildings you own, you wouldn’t have called in the favors you did. You sure as hell wouldn’t have driven to a fucking shroom farm on a weekly basis.”
He’s right. That farm was dirty as hell. “Okay. You’re right. You happy?”
“No! I’m not happy.” Emmett starts pacing around the small office. “You have to tell her. Today. Right now.”
“I can’t today.”
“Why not?”
I scramble for an answer. Because there is no answer. I’m just scared to do it, but like hell I’m going to admit that to Emmett. “Because I can’t. But I will.”
“When Simon? Because you saying that you’ll do it soon doesn’t hold a lot of weight these days.”
“I will.”
“No you won’t,” he says. “You made me believe it would have happened by now. So when? Tonight? Tomorrow? During the delivery of your daughter? Or maybe if you two get married it can be part of your vows. Maybe then you can tell Charlie everything.”
“Tell me what?”
Emmett and I turn to see Charlie, who’s standing at the door of her office. She looks confused, and a little scared.
Fuck my life.
“Simon? What’s going on?”
“Simon, you have three seconds to explain everything, or I’m going to fucking lose it.”
“Bug, please sit?—”
“Don’t you Bug me. Start talking. Now.”
Okay, she means business. Not that I didn’t think she meant business. Hell, her face is redder than any shade her hair has been and her nostrils are actually flaring.
I fucked up. So bad.
Now I can only hope that somehow I can dig my way out of this.
“I don’t know where to start.” I admit.
“Convenient.” She’s marching around the living room, her stomps getting heavier with each one. I wish she’d sit, her blood pressure is rising, and this can’t be good for her or the baby. I also know better than to suggest that right now. “Well, then, let me help you. How about you tell me why you were in my office having an argument with my property manager?”
This is it. This is where I come clean. The things I should have told her months ago when I could’ve controlled this.
But I didn’t. Because I’m an idiot.
“Because he’smyproperty manager.”
“What?” She blinks a few times, not seeming to understand my words. “You use him too?”
I shake my head. “No. He only works for me.”
