Chapter 5 The Delivery Girl

• Emma’s POV
• I arrived at the eatery and took a seat at one of the empty customer tables, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a heavy blanket. My hands trembled as I unfolded the paper the hospital had handed me, the total amount due for my mother’s further treatment glaring back at me in cold, hard numbers.
• “Goodness, $3000 today. Where do I even get the money?” I whispered under my breath, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. The only money in my account right now was a thousand dollars, which I’d been carefully saving up for months. It wasn’t nearly enough.
• I rubbed my temples, the headache starting to form as my mind spun through options, none of them seeming good enough. My father... asking him was out of the question. He wouldn’t even blink an eye. If I tried, I knew what I would hear: “Let her die anyways.” His coldness still stung, even though I had learned to expect it by now.
• I slammed my hands on the table in frustration, not noticing the curious glances from the few customers around me. My chest tightened, and I closed my eyes, wishing for an escape. My mother’s health was on the line, and I felt so powerless to help.
• The sound of a cough nearby snapped me back to reality. I quickly straightened up, realizing I had caused a bit of a stir. The customers were watching me, some looking concerned, others uncomfortable. I flushed with embarrassment.
• “I’m sorry...” I muttered quickly, my voice barely a whisper as I quickly got up from the table. I didn’t want to cause a scene, especially in front of people who had no idea what I was dealing with.
• Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. I couldn’t afford to fall apart now.
• I should go ask my boss for a little help. Maybe he’d be willing to lend me some money... but then again, I didn’t want to feel like a burden. I had been working here for months, and it wasn’t like he was rolling in money himself. But what else could I do?
• I grabbed my bag, planning to head to the back to ask him. But as I stood up, I paused, unsure of what I should say. My mind raced as I thought about the possibilities, but nothing seemed to add up. Where was I supposed to find the other $2000?
• Before I could make up my mind, my phone buzzed, distracting me from my thoughts. I checked the screen, relieved to see it was a message from my boss, Mr. Levin. He’d probably been expecting me to check in.
• "Emma, I need you to come to my office as soon as you’re done. We need to talk about your hours for the week."
• I sighed in relief. At least I wouldn’t have to approach him blindly. He had reached out first. I could explain the situation, ask for an advance or maybe extra shifts.
• Taking a deep breath, I headed to the back office where Mr. Levin was waiting. He looked up from his desk as I entered, his expression neutral as always.
• “Everything okay, Emma?” he asked, his voice calm but not without concern.
• I hesitated for a moment, then walked over to him and placed the paper from the hospital on his desk. “I—I need help,” I said, feeling the pressure building in my chest. “My mom’s health... It’s getting worse. I need $2000 for her treatment today, and I don’t have enough. I’ve saved up a bit, but it’s not enough to cover what’s due.”
• Mr. Levin’s eyes flicked to the paper for a moment, then back to me, his brow furrowing slightly. I could tell he was weighing his options, and the silence between us stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he spoke.
• “I don’t have much I can offer you, Emma,” he said, sounding almost apologetic. “But I can give you $500 right now. You’ll need to work overtime to pay it back. How does that sound?”
• My heart sank a little, but I forced a smile, grateful for anything. “I’ll take it,” I replied quickly. “Thank you.”
• He nodded and reached for his wallet, handing me the cash. “I’ll expect you to put in extra hours this week,” he added, as if reminding me. “That should help cover part of it.”
• I nodded, taking the money gratefully. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
• But as I turned to leave, my mind was already racing again. $500 was a start, but I still needed the full $2000. I couldn’t depend on Mr. Levin to solve all of it. That left me with one more option.
• I could always go to Mr. Levin’s friend, Mr. Preston, the one who owned the high-end restaurant downtown. I’d heard rumors about how generous he was with his employees, though I wasn’t sure if that generosity extended to someone like me.
• I could ask for evening shifts there. If I could pull in $1500 working late nights, that would cover the rest. It was a long shot, but it was my best one.
• I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed the number for Mr. Levin’s business partner, praying he would answer. The ringing echoed in my ear as I held my breath, hoping for a miracle.
• ~~
• Damon’s POV
• It had been hours since the delivery, and I had long since finished the meal. The taste of it still lingered on my palate — rich, bold, and satisfying in a way that only a well-prepared dish could be. The food was exceptional, and part of me couldn’t help but wonder if the delivery girl had a hand in picking it. But that was a silly thought. I knew better than to get involved with someone like her.
• I leaned back in my chair, eyes scanning the reports in front of me, but my mind was far from focused on work. Something kept pulling me back to that brief encounter with her. Emma, I think her name was. I hadn’t even bothered to ask for her name, and yet I couldn't shake the memory of how she looked — all business, confident in her own way, with that ponytail bouncing with each step. She had been polite, professional even, but there was something about her presence that caught my attention, something I couldn’t quite place.
• I was lost in thought when I felt Harper’s eyes on me. He’d been standing by my desk, seemingly organizing files for the past few minutes, but I hadn’t noticed his approach. Harper was sharp — a guy who didn’t miss a beat.
• “So,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp, “I couldn’t help but notice the way you were looking at the delivery girl earlier.”
• I blinked, momentarily stunned by the comment. The way I looked at her? Was that how it seemed? I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and let out a low laugh, trying to brush off the awkwardness.
• “Looking at her? What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice a little more dismissive than I intended.
• Harper raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by my response. “Come on, Damon. I’ve worked with you long enough to know when you’re interested in someone. You were staring at her the entire time she was in the office. You sure you don’t have a thing for the delivery girl?”
• I snorted, rolling my eyes. "You're imagining things, Harper," I muttered, a slight grin tugging at the corners of my lips. "It’s just food. I was appreciating the meal, not the delivery girl."
• Harper raised his hands in mock surrender but didn’t let up. “Sure, Damon. But you don’t have to lie to me. If you like her, you know I’m all for it. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you look at someone with that... kind of attention.”
• I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. Harper wasn’t going to let this go, was he? The truth was, I wasn’t interested in anyone right now. Certainly not in a delivery girl.
• “Look, Harper,” I said, leaning back in my chair and trying to sound more convincing, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but there’s nothing there. She’s just a delivery person. That's it.”
• Harper gave me a knowing look, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh, sure, Damon. If you say so.”
• I stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Then, I sighed and let the subject drop, hoping to shift his attention elsewhere. “Anyway, enough about that. You were reminding me about drinks tonight, right? I’ll have that,” I said, glancing at my watch. “But let’s keep it low-key. I’ve had enough drama for one day.”
• Harper’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands in excitement. “Perfect! I’ll make the arrangements.”
• I gave him a tight smile, relieved to be moving on from the subject of Emma. But deep down, I couldn’t deny that something about the girl had caught my attention. What was it about her? Why couldn’t I shake the image of her standing there in the office, looking so... composed?
• Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus. I wasn’t interested in her. I was just... curious. That was all.
• But as Harper left to make the arrangements, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was really the whole story.