Vanilla On Top(63)

You’ll survive, just like you did when your parents died, and just like you did when you were dumped by Jimmy and Rick.

We pull up to a tall, grey stone building, its façade of ornate masonry appearing well preserved. A mew of despair escapes me when he cuts the engine.

Who the hell falls in love with a man in less than two weeks? What the hell am I going to do?

“Are you okay?” Tony’s brow furrows and he places a hand on my shoulder.

I nod and bolt out of the car, eager to take a breath of fresh air and clear my head. I can do this. I lock a hand around the camera housing, hoping I gain some strength in the next five seconds. I can pretend I’m not afraid of what I’m feeling and act normal. He probably doesn’t feel the same and spouting out what’s on my mind could very well drive him away. My brain whirs, searching for a suitable reason for my actions. I come up with nothing.

Tony’s door shuts, the muffled sound jarring me while I try my best not to hyperventilate. He joins me on the sidewalk, a worried look on his face. “Were you getting car sick?”

Grateful for a logical excuse for my wacky behavior, I latch onto it. My head nods like a berserk bobble head doll and a lie spills from my lips. “Yes. Only a little at the end.”

Tony runs a soothing hand down my back. “Want a glass of water? Or would ginger ale be better? I could run to the store to get some.”

Tension eases out of my shoulders. “I think the fresh air is all I need.” I raise my new camera and take a few shots of the building’s exterior. “Tell me a little about the place before we go in.”

Tony’s face lights up with interest, a look I haven’t seen on him when we’ve spoken about work. “I bought it four years ago. It was the third apartment building I’d ever purchased and the only one I’ve held onto over the years.”

My eyebrows creep up my head. I had no idea he owned real estate. At my look he continues. “Not what you expect from a corporate raider?” He shrugs. “I’m not the norm, I guess. Most of the guys I work with either piss their money away on expensive toys, habits, women, or try their best to master day trading. If there’s one thing my mom taught me, it’s that real estate may go up and down, but it’s the best way to earn over the long haul.”

“Your mom? Not your dad?”

Tony leans on the hood of his car, pulling me with him. “I don’t talk about it much, but my dad was a complete loser.” He holds my free hand, focusing on our entwined fingers while he speaks. “It was my mom who raised my two brothers and me. She kept us together as a family long after my dead-beat dad died.”

I turn to look at him, sorrow welling inside me. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I had no idea.”

He looks up at the building, lost in his thoughts, oblivious to the street noise around us. “I told you he drank. Well, he also gambled. Got mean when there was no booze left, too.” He touches the scar on his chin and my heart seizes in my chest. His father must have given it to him. “He lost our house and every dime we had. I swore I’d never be like him.”

That explained the long hours and intense work ethic. “How old were you when he died?”

“Fourteen. I was the oldest. Heart attack at forty-five. Drank himself to death. My mom worked, but for a while we lived in a shelter. She was determined to keep us together and not put us in foster care. I started working after school to help out. Did clean up at construction sites and ran errands.” He gestures to the building with his chin. “Never thought at the time I’d be where I am today.”

“Really? I’m not surprised.”

His gaze drifts back to me. “Why do you say that?”

“You obviously worked your ass off, determined to prove to yourself you’d never be like your dad.”

A sad smile curves his mouth as he steps away from the car and tugs me toward the door. “And when is enough, enough?” He unlocks the main door and we step into a small vestibule with mailboxes.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s got to be a time when I stop trying to prove myself, right? When I’ve finally earned enough money to feel secure.”

This conversation has taken a turn I never thought it would and I’m not sure what to say. I have no idea how much money he has and I’m wondering how rude it would be to ask. Does it matter? I search inside myself and realize it doesn’t.

I plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Only you can decide that.”

He shakes off the melancholy surrounding him and gestures to the elevator. “There’re four units per floor. The fifth floor is all mine. Want to see it?”