Emma, with Richie the nice doorman's permission, let the Mooney's ride the private elevator to her penthouse suite twice—once so Devon could turn the key and press the button, and then again so that Bella could. She was dead on her feet, and it felt like after their holiday extravaganza day, that the extra elevator ride took hours.
The girls were on hyperdrive, though. Andrew glanced at her, over their heads. "You're sure we haven't overstayed our welcome?"
She shook her head. "Chinese is already on its way."
The girls stopped moving and looked up at her. Bella scrunched her nose. "Chinese?"
Emma shrugged. "Is that okay?"
Andrew rubbed Bella's head. "I forgot to tell the girls that when you come to New York City, it's a rule that you have to try new things."
Emma widened her eyes at Andrew, mentally running through her cabinets wondering if she had any kid food. "Sorry," she mouthed.
He shook her off. "No worries. They'll love it."
"I practically live on it. What do you guys do for dinner every night."
Andrew smirked. "Uh, there's something called 'cooking' that people in the suburbs do. You go to a grocery store and buy food and then use that thing with the fire in the kitchen to heat it to an appropriate temperature."
"He means a stove," Devon added. "Do you have one?"
"Oh, yes." She scrunched her face like she was thinking. "I think I have one of those."
The elevator finally dinged after ride number two, and the doors opened to the foyer of Emma's home. The girls stepped off.
"Is this the hallway?" Bella asked.
Emma caught Andrew looking around. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed by her wealth. But the fact of the matter was, she had money. It wasn't a secret, so they'd have to deal with it. She looked down at Emma's tangled blond hair. "This is my foyer. We are in my house."
The girls gasped and chattered as she led them into the living room.
"This is a fine place you have here, Boss Lady," Andrew said. He stopped at the large window in her living room, overlooking the city. The window took almost the whole length of the room, with a bench and a cushion to enjoy the view. "God, I hope the girls don't wreck it."
"There's nothing in here that's irreplaceable," she said. "My dad left it to me, and since I've been working at BI, it's convenient."
The girls squealed from the kitchen. "Daddy?"
Andrew cupped his lips. "Yep?"
"Everything's black and white in here. And there's a stove in the kitchen!" one of them yelled. "I don't think it's used. It doesn't look dirty like ours."
"Ouch." Andrew looked at Emma and laughed, then cupped his hand again. "Don't touch it. Get out here where I can see you." When the girls reappeared, he waved them over. "You like cooking? If you had more time?"
"Nope. Hate it." Emma leaned closer. "But I like to bake. I'm good at following recipes. I may have made cupcakes."
"Cupcakes!" Bella shouted. "Where are they?"
"First," Emma said, "you have to try some Chinese food. Deal?"
"But Ginger needs a cupcake," Devon said.
"Stella too," Emma added.
Andrew stood taller, crossing his arms. "You heard Miss Emma."
The intercom buzzed and the girls' faces lit up. "What's that?" Bella asked.
YOU ARE READING
Emma Ballard, a retired supermodel, has been the acting CEO and face of her family's clothing business for the past five years, living the busy corporate life in New York City. She meets the Jersey branch IT supervisor, theater-nerd Andrew Mooney, w...