His Young Maid: A Forbidden Boss Age Gap Romance by Daisy Jane (best novels to read in english .txt) 📗

us up the hill to his house. We park and unload things from the trunk and the entire time I wonder if he’s home, and I force myself to not look in the garage to see if his car is there.

I broke it off. He was using me. He doesn’t care about me.

I repeat that to myself as I drag my rag down the fridge, wiping it free of the non-existent smudges. I clean the counter, refusing to let my mind wander to the bliss of talking about life with Brooks, eating an omelet in his t-shirt. Don’t think of that, I repeat to myself.

“He didn’t make an appearance when I wasn’t around, did he?” Melody asks as the gate at the bottom of the hill closes behind us.

I didn’t see Brooks at all in the four hours we were cleaning. I didn’t see him but I felt him everywhere. The amber scent drifting through the linens as I folded them nearly took my breath away, like a punch to the gut, and when I made it to the second floor and saw his bedroom door was closed, my heart sank. I’d called it off. Told him to leave me alone. What was I expecting? The door to be open, to have a romantic note left on his bed for me to find? That was insane.

And yet I couldn’t help but be disappointed that there wasn’t something. Some semblance of him missing me to be found. And the disappointment was so silly, that I got mad at myself and took it out on Melody.

“No, Melody, he wasn’t there,” I snapped back, immediately feeling guilty but still too angry to apologize.

“Hey listen, I need to talk to you,” she navigated the New York countryside seamlessly, like I’d watched her do so many times before. “Donny’s debt, I was done paying it off about six months ago.”

I can’t let my self-loathing ruin her big moment. I’m not that big of an asshole. I’m not Brooks.

“Wow, you have to be so relieved. I’m so, so happy for you both,” I smile and squeeze the back of her neck, lovingly. “That’s awesome.” My anger fades in the presence of her good news.

To this day, I don’t know what’s keeping Melody tied so close to Donny, paying his massive debts and living in a shit hole with him. But I love Melody and that’s enough for me to not question her.

“Yeah, it feels good,” she says, and I can hear the nervousness lingering in her tone. “But um, now that I paid it off and have a little nest egg, I’m going to start culinary school, back in Connecticut.”

“Manchester?” I asked, remembering the times we’d sent away for pamphlets and material from the school back when I was just a sophomore in high school, Melody already a senior.

Our dream in our early teens was culinary school, though I don’t think I ever really thought either of us would get the chance to go. Much like my mom, Melody’s parents also had substance abuse issues and though neither of us lived with Betty Crocker, with the help of the internet and lots of trial and error, we taught ourselves.

Though I knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel for me, there was still so much for me to go through before I could see it.

“That’s so great you’re finally getting to do that. What’s the plan? Admissions open for next fall?” I try to imagine Donny in a dorm room with Melody and I can’t picture it, and I know they’ll surely rub some future baker the wrong way.

“Well, that’s the thing. When I met with the financial guy a couple years back, he set up this payment plan for me for everything and told me just when I needed to be doing certain things,” she digs around in her purse and produces a business card which is folded in half. She hands it to me. “This guy. He was really helpful. He told me when I needed to apply for culinary school too. And I was accepted. I actually start in six weeks.”

Six weeks. She’d be gone in six weeks. I can’t say I moved here for her because I moved for the job and the money, but nonetheless, I feel as if any wind remaining in my sails has been taken. Without Melody and hell, even without Donny, I officially have nothing. No people, no money, no prospects. Just debt, and a lot of it.

I clear my throat gently, as to not disturb the knot of emotion that rests there.

“Where will you guys be living?” I force a little smile. I’m happy for her but of course I can’t pretend I won’t miss her.

“We’ve got a condo there,” I can see excitement in her eyes and it kills me to think I’ve become the person that people can’t be genuinely happy around. I won’t let the bullshit with Brooks change me.

“That’s awesome, please tell me all about it. Tell me you finally have a bathtub and a real closet!”

Our current apartments have exactly one closet which serves for linens, kitchen items, clothes—everything. It works fine for me since I own less than an entire suitcase full of items but for Melody and Donny, it was a squeeze.

“Finally!” she gushes and I can see she’s been holding back. “And the counter tops are like, granite. Not tile or fake wood or anything. Real stone.” She nods, nose scrunched in self-approval.

“Wow, I bet it’s so nice. I’ll have to come visit as soon as you guys are all settled.”

“Definitely. And after I’m done with school and get a job, we’re going to get married.”

She stares forward for a moment before meeting my eyes. “Do you think that’s insane?” her voice is low and this is the first time I’ve heard her ask without asking if I approve of her choice. After all these years, she’s never shown doubt or insecurity until