A Struggling Dad Delivered Pizza In The Rain, Not Knowing The Shy Customer Was A CEO Falling For Him
A Shared Truth in Apartment 4C
She froze. He stared.
“You’re the CEO of that investment group,” he said. “The one that owns half the city.”
She swallowed. “Yeah.”
“What the hell are you doing here, living like this?” Her voice was quiet.
“Trying to remember who I am. Without all of it.”
He stepped back, blinking. “So this was, what, a game?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Never.”
“I just like talking to you before you knew. Before you looked at me like I’m untouchable.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say right now,” he said, frustrated. She looked down.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just didn’t want to lie.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you without ruining it.” He turned.
His hand was on the door. “Romy, I’m a single dad delivering pizzas.”
“You’re a billionaire in a sweatshirt. I don’t even know what this is.”
Her voice cracked. “It’s real. It’s the first real thing I’ve felt.”
He looked back at her. Her eyes were glassy and scared.
Somehow, he believed her. But he still left.
He didn’t know what scared him more. Was it the lie or how much he felt?
Jardan didn’t sleep that night. He lay on the old pullout couch in the living room.
He listened to Gia’s soft breathing in the bedroom they shared. Glow-in-the-dark stars flickered on the ceiling.
He’d put them up because she was afraid of the dark. Now they felt like the only steady thing.
He kept seeing Romy’s face. Her expression was raw right before he left.
It twisted something in him he didn’t want to name. He didn’t deliver to her building all week.
He told himself he wasn’t avoiding it. The manager kept assigning him other areas.
He didn’t ask to change it. He checked the digital orders every night for her name.
When Saturday came, he told Gia they were going for pancakes. They went to a small place.
Gia started coloring on the back of the placemat. “Daddy, what’s a CEO?”
Jardan blinked hard. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Auntie Cara said you met one. She said that’s a big boss with shiny shoes.”
He exhaled through his nose. “They don’t always wear shiny shoes.”
“Do they have a dog?” “Why would they have a dog?”
“Because if they’re a boss, they’re probably lonely.” He stared at her.
“That’s not how it works.” Gia shrugged.
“If I was a boss, I’d have a golden retriever named Muffin.” He said nothing.
He watched the syrup swirl on his plate. He wondered if Romy had ever been that small.
He wondered if anyone had told her she was safe. That afternoon, an envelope was under his door.
He pulled out a single folded note with no signature. It had one neat line of handwriting.
“If you change your mind, I’m still at 4C. No pizza required.”
He stared at it for a long time. He tucked it into the drawer and didn’t touch it.
On the fourth day, Gia fell asleep early. She was curled with her dinosaur plush.
He stood in the doorway for a long time. Then he grabbed his jacket and took the train.
The building looked exactly the same. It was dimly lit and quiet.
He climbed the stairs slowly, unsure what he’d say. The door opened halfway.
Romy was barefoot, wearing a long cardigan. Her hair was down past her shoulders.
She didn’t say anything at first. She just stepped back and let him in.
He stood in the middle of the living room. “I didn’t come for tea,” he said.
“I didn’t make any,” she replied. He turned to face her.
“You left a note. I didn’t know how else to reach you.”
“You could have called.” “I didn’t have your number.”
“You could have asked.” “I didn’t think you’d give it to me.”
He looked at her, jaw tight. “Why’d you really invite me in?”
She met his gaze. “Because you looked like you needed someone to care.”
The air between them stretched thin. He stepped closer.
“You lied about who you were.” “I didn’t lie,” she said quietly.
“I just didn’t say everything.” “Same thing.”
“No,” she said, voice firmer now. “Not when you’ve been treated like a product.”
“You learn to keep things close. You know what it’s like?”
“People smile because they want something. Not because they care who you are.”
“I kept it quiet because you didn’t look at me like that.” He stared.
“And what did I look at you like?” “Like I was human.”
Silence followed. “You’re worth a fortune, and you spend your nights alone. Why?”
She crossed her arms. “Because I needed a break from boardrooms and headlines.”
“From people who call me ‘ma’am’ and act like I don’t bleed.”
“You picked a strange way to disappear.” She looked down.
“I picked the only way I could. No one notices me here.”
He nodded slowly. “You know this can’t stay simple.”
“I know,” she said. “You know I’ve got a daughter.”
“I remember.” “You know I’m not a project.”
“I never thought you were.” He stepped even closer.
“Then what am I?” “Romy.” She looked up at him.
“You’re the first man who didn’t ask me for anything.” He didn’t touch her.
He was close enough to feel her breath. “And you are the first woman,” he said.
“The first woman who didn’t make me feel I had to be more.”
Her eyes flicked to his mouth. He didn’t kiss her, but he didn’t leave.
She walked to the couch and sat. He followed and sat across from her.
“Tell me something real,” she said. He looked at her.
“I’m scared all the time. Scared I won’t earn enough.”
“Scared I’ll slip up and G will pay for it. Every second.”
Romy’s voice was soft. “You haven’t.”
“You don’t know that.” “I know what it looks like when someone loves their child.”
“I can see it in your face.” He swallowed hard.
“Your turn.” She leaned back, eyes on the ceiling.
“Sometimes I still feel like a little girl in her mother’s heels.”
“Like they’re going to notice I don’t belong.” “You run the company.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like an impostor.” Jardan leaned forward.
“You want to know what I see?” Romy met his eyes again.
“I see someone who could have had anyone and still asked me to sit.”
Her breath hitched slightly. They didn’t touch that night.
They talked until the sky turned gray. “Come back tomorrow,” she said.
