Logan's POV
I couldn't stop staring at her; she captivated me, not just because of her cute, pretty face, but also because of her independent yet closed-off demeanor. It made me curious, and I didn't know why I wanted so much to know about her. This was the first time in my life I felt so drawn to someone's life, and it was her—Grace Shasha Emerson.
The incident at the café was truly fortunate because I finally learned she was once married. I now had a chance to be with her, and I'd use this opportunity to learn about her life.
"Mm…" she muttered, furrowing her brows, then lifted her head and slowly opened her eyes. "Are we at my apartment yet?" she asked drowsily, holding her head.
"We are," I whispered.
She frowned. "Then why didn't you wake me up?"
"I didn't want to disturb you."
"Oh, you're so weird!" She pouted immediately. "So, you've just been watching me this whole time? Are you falling for me or something?" she teased, grabbing her bag.
"What if I am?" I asked, unable to hide my smile. Her question felt like a trap. "Would you accept that? I already know you don't like me."
She fell silent and quickly got out of the car. I got out too and approached her as she stood, swaying slightly, facing the building. It looked ordinary, not luxurious like my brother's apartment.
"My place is on the fifth floor," she said, as I instinctively put an arm around her. She glanced at me. "I can walk on my own," she insisted.
"Oh…" I quickly gave her some space. "Alright, I'll follow you."
She started walking, and I followed closely, watching her carefully since she was so unsteady. She swayed to the left, then the right, grabbing the wall for support.
"Shasha…" I came closer and then scooped her up quickly.
"Hey!" She slapped my chest. "I don't want this; you're overdoing it!"
I stayed silent, continuing forward as a few people nearby watched us. I figured they'd snap pictures, which would hit social media in seconds and become gossip fodder. I didn't care—maybe this could work to my advantage.
"Logan, put me down!" She struggled until we stopped in front of the elevator.
I carried her in, then set her down.
"You're crazy! Do you think I can't walk by myself?" She scowled at me. "You might as well leave after this; I don't need you!" she turned away.
I stayed quiet, not responding, and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The ride up was silent, but I noticed her sneaking glances at me as if she was uncomfortable.
It only took a few minutes until the elevator doors opened. We stepped out and walked down the corridor, painted in warm shades of white and brown, until we stopped at a black door. She quickly entered a code, which looked like 051294. I figured that number must mean something significant to her, perhaps her birthdate.
Oh, wait… 94? Does that mean… she was born in 1994? She's thirty?
"Hey!" Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked over to see her frowning before stepping inside.
I followed her quickly, my curiosity piqued more than ever.
"Shasha, what does that door code mean?" I couldn't hold back the question.
"You peeked while I was typing in my code."
"Um, yeah… I mean, I saw it by accident."
She stopped by a yellowish-white couch that matched the monochrome theme of the room.
"But it's okay if you know my code; I trust you're not interested in breaking into my apartment…" She smiled slightly, and it made her look even sweeter. "I don't have anything valuable here…except myself." She smiled, then headed toward another room.
I followed her. "Does the code represent your birth date?"
"Yeah…"
"Really?" I stopped, swallowing hard, unable to take another step but keeping my eyes fixed on her, admiring her form even from behind. She suddenly looked back, letting me catch a glimpse of her beautiful face.
"Why?" she asked.
"It means… you're almost thirty," I whispered.
"Yeah…" She smiled again and opened the fridge. "I'm almost thirty… Is there something wrong with that?"
"No…" I shook my head, slowly moving closer. "Nothing at all… It's impressive because you look like you're twenty."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Men always say that and then avoid me once they know my age, once they learn about my work… But I hope you won't. You're my boss… though, if you do distance yourself, it's no big deal… It doesn't matter," she said, taking a sip of water.
I swallowed hard, watching her lips as they glistened from drinking, so tempting, so fresh, and I couldn't help but lick my lips.
"I think you should just go back to your apartment; I'm fine, really," she said, putting the water bottle down.
"No… I can't leave you." I shook my head, taking the bottle from her and drinking from it while looking at her lips. It felt as if I was tasting her indirectly.
"There's nothing for you to do here… You should rest. Besides, I won't be able to talk with you after this; I'll take a shower and then go to bed," she said.
I sighed, capping the bottle. "Are you not going to have dinner? I can't leave knowing you're skipping dinner, which won't help you feel better."
"Oh, come on!" She walked over to a small dining table with four chairs. "Please, just leave me alone. There's no need to worry about me. Besides, I know you're a busy guy!"
I followed her immediately. "I told you, I'm not busy. I'm free… And…"
"What?"
I froze, looking at her nervously, unsure how to start, but I desperately wanted her to tell me about herself before my curiosity gave me a headache.
"Logan… The café incident wasn't your fault either… So you don't have to stay with me here," she said, frowning, with a sad look in her eyes.
"Sorry…" I looked down. "Honestly… I want to be here because I'm so curious about you."
She laughed, then sat, resting her arms on the table.
"You're curious about me? Am I hearing that right? A model who just hit fame is curious about a housekeeper… You're strange!" she said, looking at me in disbelief.
I blushed and sat across from her.
"What's wrong with you, Logan?" she asked. "You're so different tonight, not like you were this morning. It's like I'm seeing a different side of you."
"I don't know…" I shrugged, smiling slightly, still looking at her, feeling a strong respect for her because she was older. "I… I just think you deserve respect… Even though you're a housekeeper. It's not a bad thing. Not at all… Every job has its value."
"Alright… Now you can tell me what makes you so curious about me. I'll answer, but I don't have much time because I want to rest soon… Don't worry about dinner; I'll eat when I'm hungry. I hope you'll leave once I satisfy your curiosity about me," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Um…" I swallowed, taking a deep breath, trying to act casual. "I argued with the guy you were with at the café, right after you fainted. He said he was your ex-husband… So, you were married?" I asked.
She nodded. "Married but not really," she replied.
My eyebrows furrowed reflexively. "What does that mean?"
"It's something I can't explain… It's very personal… And you don't need to know. That's the limit of what you should know about me," she said.
I nodded, looking at her, remembering her busy demeanor and how she lived alone in this apartment.
"So, after the divorce, you live here alone?" I confirmed.
She only nodded.
"You said you have another job, and it seems intense if you can't even leave it for a day. Can I know what it is?" I asked, biting my lip.
"I work with a friend… at her house. We run a daycare… I mean, for children left by their parents while they work. But so far, we only care for eight toddlers," she explained, then looked down, frowning slightly. "And… My friend has health issues, and another friend is busy with her own family. So… I'm the only one expected to watch the toddlers tomorrow," she continued, looking at me with hopeful eyes.
I was stunned, watching her, picturing her surrounded by toddlers left by their parents for work. It was a huge responsibility, but she didn't seem to mind. Maybe she loved the job, perhaps because she was mature and motherly… Those toddlers must feel so comfortable around her… She's amazing.