The Man in the Red Brick House

Chapter Teaser

My mom once told me that when love happens to you, there's no freakin' thing you can do about. Cheesy, right? Her words, not mine.

My story that you're about to read is a sad love story. And if you are a sucker for stories that usually leave you empty and broken inside—because you simply find pleasure in tormenting yourself—then let me take you back to the year when I met Henry Jonathan Welsh: the boy who loved me without questions and broke my heart to pieces.

My sad love story started when Alex Morgan, my boyfriend of three years, mercilessly broke up with me. Alex's father owned Morgan and Son Publishing, where I work as an assistant to Belinda Suthers, the company's Marketing Head Officer, and biggest coquette.

My love life took a sudden turn when Alex's father had a mild stroke. Mr. Arthur Morgan, Alex's father, thought he couldn't live longer that he wanted and immediately assigned the CEO position to his son. He still owned the company as the chairman and still micromanages during his spare time.

I never thought that Alex had included me in his CEO To-Do list when he assumed the position. And so, two days after the announcement, he broke up with me, through freakin' emojis. Who does that? I refused to believe it at first and brushed it off and went on thinking everything between us had not changed. So, on the next day, he finally grew balls and spoke to me... to make it official.

The office prepared a congratulatory cake for him. And after the obligatory well-wishes from everyone, he grabbed my hand and lead me to his new office room.

"It's not just working, Brie." He told me with the most unapologetic voice I ever heard. And I felt my heart dropped with a loud thud on the carpeted floor. So he was serious when he sent me those stupid emojis that screamed I'm breaking up with you.

I blinked twice and looked down at the slice of blueberry cheesecake that Belinda bought to celebrate Alex's promotion. Should I throw this to his face or save it for later to eat while I cry my eyes out?

"I just think I won't have enough time for any relationships now that I have been given a bigger responsibility." He added, still looking unapologetic. I even caught a faint smile in the right corner of his lip. Could this be a terrible prank he's trying to pull on me? But, he looked so determined, and his voice sounded so real. He even sighed impatiently, like he couldn't wait for our talk to be over.

I looked up at him in disbelief. And what bigger responsibility was he talking about? Would it actually require every cell in his brain to run his father's small publishing company? We had only released 15 books for the past two years, and most of it were cookbooks and school textbooks. What the fuck?

"Don't you want to try to work it out?" I finally found my voice and asked him the most standard question every girl who was about to be homeless would ask. It was true. If the break up would really happen, then I would be dispossessed. Why? Because when I finished college and eloped with Alex to Indiana, the necessity to find my own place never occurred to me. I was confident that we would tie the knot and grow old together. I made Alex the center of my life. And I was dependent on him like how humans depend on food for the nutrients to survive.

He sighed and looked away, then sighed again. "Please don't make this hard for me, Brie. I am already in so much pain here."

"What? But I'm—"

He cupped my face and gently rubbed my cheek with his thumb. His brown eyes boring into mine. "You have the most amazing blue eyes, d'you know that?"

I nodded, confused and about to have a major breakdown. "Alex..."

His eyes drifted down to my chest. "I have to do this, Brie. And no matter how your breasts make my knees weak, I have to man up and let you go."

Quickly, I held my arms across my chest. I hated it whenever he gave me inappropriate comments. Especially about my breasts.

He grinned. "You may leave the office early today. I want you to take as much time as you need to pack your things. Leave the spare key to the apartment on my bedside table." He moved closer and gave me one last kiss on the lips. I closed my eyes, and before I knew it, he was gone and left me alone and broken, with the blueberry cheesecake in my hand.

I spent almost half of the day in the ladies' room, crying a river, cursing and blaming myself for letting it all happen. As soon as Karen, my number one pessimistic friend, knew about what happened, she spent the remaining of the day cursing at Alex too. She never liked him. She thought he was dumb and a douche.

I took Alex's advice and left work early. I went to his apartment and, with a heavy heart, started packing our two-year relationship memories inside a box. By the time that I was done crying, anger finally settled in and every stuff I ever bought him, which he never actually used or was never really proud of, I threw in the trash. And every bra, thong, and bikini he bought me, I furiously ripped to pieces. I was so mad that I screamed at his picture on the kitchen counter.

I was fighting the urge to tear the place down when he called me on my phone. I immediately answered, hoping he had changed his mind. No he didn't. To my utter dismay when he only called to ask if I had already left the place.

I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and drowned my sorrows. Half of me had hoped to pass out after the second bottle. Maybe Alex would consider giving me an extension and let me stay for another week. Unfortunately, I didn't pass out. I felt weird but far from passing out.

It was almost midnight when I finished packing and was ready to leave—tipsy with an awful, stale corn breath. I stepped out and, before closing the door, gave the place one final look. My heart sank, and hot tears ran down my cheeks. It felt so sudden and definitive. I would never imagine myself leaving. Or, breaking up with Alex.

With the little ounce of strength and willpower left in me, I pulled the door close and left. Goodbye Apartment 10. We had a good three years.

By the time I reached the third block, a roll of thunder, followed by lightning had painted the dark sky as a cold wind blew in. What could be the perfect ending to this day other than a dramatic involvement from Mother Nature? Just great.

I could hear Diana Ross singing, Do You Know Where You're Going To in the back of my head. Obviously, I had no freakin' idea where I was going or supposed to go. Karen did offer me her place to crash. I declined. She lived with her hot-blooded European boyfriend and based on how she frequently narrated their sexperiments with me, I had to decline her kind offer. She told me about Hugo's overwhelming confidence with his sexuality that he normally walk around completely naked. I wasn't ready to see a naked flesh just yet.

As the night grew chilly and scary, I wandered aimlessly around. Another loud thunder roared across the sky and the rain started to pour heavily. I almost gave up and nearly let a car run me over. I didn't have money, and my credit cards were all maxed out. Hope was beginning to leave. I almost gave up and nearly let a car run me over. Why did I rely on Alex so much?

Working as Belinda's assistant didn't pay much. And after three years of working hard, I didn't have any savings and had survived on my credit card and Alex. I was literally working to pay my debts. And now, broken-hearted and walking around under the rain with only a $50 and some change in my wallet, I began to regret the choices I made right after college, like choosing Alex over a good career opportunity in New York.

The scornful sky continued to punish me for being reckless and stupid. I was pretty sure that every piece of clothing in my bag was just like me, miserable and soaking wet. I dragged my heavy suitcase to a corner of an empty street when an opportunity caught my eyes. A chance to at least survive the night.

The sign specifically said, "No Trespassing. Private Property." But I was desperate, heartbroken, and wet so I ignored the warning and pushed the iron gate. To my surprise when it wasn't actually locked. How could the owners be so reckless? They had provided trespassers, like me, some serious opportunity to rob their house.

My heart started to race as I dragged my dripping suitcase to the only French colonial red brick house in the neighborhood.

Alex once told me that the red brick house had been unoccupied since he could remember. He said that the house was actually owned by a wealthy family who decided to ditch their life in Indiana for a more sophisticated one in Manhattan. They never sold the house, but no one had visited it either. Even during summer. It stood abandoned and alone in the affluent neighborhood of Westville for years.

A bit drunk, tired, desperate and miserable, I turned the brass knob, and to my surprise when the door opened. How could the owners of this house be too trusting and reckless? Another roar of thunder made me jumped, and I quickly went inside and quickly closed the door behind me. Total darkness swallowed me whole inside.

I took a deep, courageous breath and started to look for the light switch. Or, maybe find my way to the kitchen for some candles. My hands let go of my suitcase and started roaming on the walls. With some luck, I found it within seconds and flicked it.

My mouth dropped. The house didn't look as creepy as I had expected. It was in a very good condition. The foyer was neat and welcoming. The limestone floors and stucco walls gave off an antique vibe of the house's interior, which was different from its red brick exterior. I grabbed my suitcase and walked further into the living room that was a bit dim. I searched for the switch again and found a light dimmer. I turned it to the right, and the three pendant bowl chandeliers lit the entire room in an instant.

The living room boasted warm, sunny colors. My body went giddy when I saw the central fireplace and the very inviting cream Tuscan sofa in the middle. I hurried to the sofa and collapsed. My bones were aching. I was exhausted. And before my stomach could even complain and growl, I drifted into a deep sleep.

When morning came, my face had already felt the warmth of the sun's rays. I moaned and stretched. I had to wake up and prepare Alex's breakfast. With my eyes still closed, I reached out to him. However, instead of touching his slightly hairy chest, my hand dropped. I instantly opened my eyes and almost fell off the sofa when I saw, to my horror, a guy sitting on one of yellow cushion stool.

He smiled. "I thought you will never wake up." His icy blue eyes staring at me.

I looked around in panic. "Where am I? Who are you?"

"You're in my house."

Quickly, my mind raced, and I began to panic. I looked around and as soon as my eyes landed on the suitcase by the fireplace, memories of what had happened the day before flooded me. Alex broke up with me. I had no place to go. I gate crashed the lonely red brick house. And now, this!

"Is it? Oh, I'm so sorry. I really am. I never thought someone actually lives here. I'm so sorry. I will leave now. Please don't call the police." I was frantically begging him. I rushed to my suitcase. Jail time was the last thing I really needed after my break up with Alex. I would literally break down if that would ever happen to me. I didn't have the money to bail myself out.

He smiled again. "I won't. Don't worry. I wont call the police. I promise." He assured me. His voice was sincere and, oddly enough, cheerful. He ran his finger through his blonde locks.

I shook the image of me behind bars, trying to clear my mind. I flopped on the sofa and buried my face in my hands, scared shit and relieved at the same time. I heard him laughed softly.

"Miss, are you okay?"

I cleared my throat. Pushed back the tears. And slowly looked up at him. I felt my cheeks slightly flushed when I finally saw how good looking he was. He looked like a young British aristocrat. His eyes were a different level of gorgeous. His smile was a combination of sexy and cute.

I nodded. "Yes. I am okay. I just really thought no one lives here. My boyfriend broke up with me and kicked me out. I just thought I'd sleep here for a night. I didn't mean to steal or do anything illegal here. Please believe me."

"Relax. I believe you. And you're kinda right," He said and smiled at me again. It's good that he was a very smiling person, but his niceness had slowly begun to creep me out. I read a lot of books and I handsome psychos never appealed to me.

"What do you mean I am right?" I asked, confused and still dumbstruck by the situation.

"Technically, no one lives here."

"I don't understand. You said this is your house." I asked, a bit alarmed. He was starting not to make any sense, and when people start to make no sense, terrible things happen. Just like in the books I had read. He may have the eyes to drown women, but he could still be a psycho and I wouldn't hesitate to use kick ass.

And he smiled again. His smile started concern me a bit. "Well, I don't think there's simpler way to say this, so I'll just say it."

"Say what?" I started to palpitate. He could be a real life Dexter Morgan and that morning could be my last.

"Well, I'm from the year 1998."

"Say what now?"

"That's right. I'm a time traveler. You are technically my future." He said casually before breaking into a grin.

I couldn't really tell if it was from starvation or emotional stress, but as soon as he said he was time traveling and I was his future, I lost it. My jaw dropped. I hurriedly grabbed my suitcase and ran as fast as I could.

What the fuck.