Emerson Jackson was different when we first met.

I still remember that day like it all happened yesterday. He’d walked into the quaint, little coffee shop where I worked and ordered a shot of espresso and biscotti. Emerson is charming and handsome, so my female colleagues were naturally drawn to his wits and charm. They went out of their way to please him, while I stayed, tucked away behind the cash register, drooling from afar. I knew guys like him would never want to associate with girls that come from a less impressive background as mine, so imagine my surprise when he asked for my number that day. It felt...