Falling Madly

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Teresa

I scrolled through the Valentine’s Day menu of my favorite restaurant, slouched at my desk in the broom-closet-sized office I called “work,” telling myself I was fine. Totally fine. It was fine that my boyfriend Richard had been too busy to book us a table, so I’d done it myself. I was a capable, modern woman, and there was no reason to feel weird about this.

We hadn’t seen much of each other lately. I’d been busy with work, and he’d… well, honestly, I didn’t know what he’d been doing. His job was both super confidential and incredibly boring, which made it easy for me not to ask questions. I was a creative, and stock market talk put me to sleep.

So far, I hadn’t felt the butterflies, but Richard was nice enough. Dependable. Considerate. The kind of guy who’d hold the door open for you—a little theatrically, but still. Maybe tonight, with the help of moody lighting and the mouth-watering soufflé currently staring at me from my laptop screen, I’d finally feel the way all those women in romantic movies did.

For the first time ever.

I’d made it to thirty and still hadn’t experienced that paradigm-shifting thing people called falling in love—the one that made you say things like “I can’t live without you” or “you complete me” without a hint of sarcasm. Once, a guy I was seeing told me his heart was so full it might split, and I suggested he see a cardiologist.

Safe to say we weren’t on the same page.

People told me that if you liked someone enough, you could partner for life and make it work. But I wanted more. I wanted the fairytale, damn it. The magic. The madness—even if it sounded a little daunting. Honestly, the idea of going slightly insane because of some hormonal imbalance in my brain scared me stiff, but I was also desperately curious.

My best friend Bess had recently fallen in love, gotten married, and was having a baby. It had all happened so fast it gave the rest of us whiplash, but I was happy for her. I was even happy for Charlie, her new husband and business partner, who I’d used to think of as a spoiled brat. I still thought he was a privileged rich boy, but he was good to my friend. He’d been good to me, too, offering me a job when the last ad agency we all worked at imploded, and he went into business with Bess. And Trevor.

Mustn’t forget Trevor. The guy I once thought I could fall for, for one magical night.

Since our relationship crashed and burned, we’d gradually transitioned into reasonably pleasant colleagues. Sharing a physical space might have been awkward, but our office was so tiny it didn’t make sense for us all to be there at the same time, bumping elbows and running out of oxygen. So, we took turns working from home, which ensured I didn’t see Trevor that regularly. In fact, I made sure I saw as little of him as possible.

I wasn’t trying to freeze him out or anything. We talked. These days, we even had a private chat that pinged multiple times a day, which I took as a sign that we’d both gracefully moved on from what happened that night. We exchanged memes and funny stories, notes on restaurants and movies like you’d do with any colleague. We were civil.

He’d told me about a laser tag game he’d had with Charlie and some other guys, so I didn’t think twice about updating him about my date night and the incredible chocolate dessert I was going to consume. I was at work, after all, and he was a colleague. It was Wednesday—my office day—so Trevor was working from home. Charlie and Bess were on a family trip to New Mexico, which also meant I was there by myself and feeling a little lonely.

Trevor: You sound more excited about the soufflé than the date.

Teresa: If you’ve never tried this soufflé, your opinion is irrelevant.

Trevor: They deliver, you know. You could enjoy it at home without watching Richard dab his mouth like a 19th-century duke.

Why did I tell him things? He despised Richard, for whatever reason. And now the image of Richard dabbing the corners of his mouth, looking like he was sucking on a lemon, played in my mind. Could I get to the restaurant early and confiscate all the napkins? Could I encourage him to order a dish that required no mouth-wiping of any kind? What would that be? Cardboard?

Teresa: You’re a jerk.

Trevor: Obviously.

Teresa: You going out tonight?

Trevor: Nah. I’m ordering soufflé online.

Teresa: Ha ha.

I’d leave it at that.

Another message popped up—a picture of a woman devouring a soufflé larger than her head. I minimized the window.

My stomach growled. It was way past lunchtime, and I’d run out of office snacks I could nibble on to skip lunch. Looking at pictures of food was not helping.

I threw on my jacket and ventured out into the cool winter air. My growling stomach guided me down the road to the only restaurant within a hundred-yard radius that served ready-made food. It was an Indian place with samosas so hot they made your eyes water, but I kind of liked it. They left an impression, which was more than I could say about the stale pretzels and crackers I’d been munching all week.

My mouth watered in anticipation as I hobbled over puddles and patches of dirty snow in my Italian leather boots. Technically, the winter conditions in Denver called for more practical footwear, but I loved my boots. They made my whole outfit feel more expensive than it was. And if a piece of clothing gave you even an ounce of confidence, I firmly believed it was worth it.

As I was about to reach the entrance of Noon ’til Naan, a giant puddle blocked my path. I halted at the edge of it, just before the dainty ends of my shoes hit the water. I could already smell the spices. Chili, cinnamon, cardamom…

The restaurant had large, decal-adorned windows and a battered awning that leaked at the seams, creating the small lake that now stood between me and my spicy food. To get to the door without soaking my feet, I’d have to leap.

Contemplating my options, I glanced through the restaurant window, and that was when time slowed down. All the way down. I’m talking about one of those movie scenes where bullets hang suspended in midair. There he was—Richard, my boyfriend of nine months—with his arm around a blonde woman.

My brain went into overdrive. In two seconds flat, I’d cataloged everything: the way he guided her to the window booth, all protective-like, and the way he brushed his nose against the collar of her oversized coat. It was intimate. Familiar. And nauseating.

I was in no way clairvoyant, but I knew what would happen. Yet, I couldn’t look away.

“Why’re we watching your boyfriend snogging another woman?”

I jumped at Trevor’s Scottish baritone. My head whipped around to confirm it really was him. Yes. The colleague I avoided like it was an Olympic sport stood right behind me, witnessing my humiliation.

My heart pounding like a jackhammer, I turned back to the window where the mortifying scene was developing into an X-rated show. Richard wasn’t just kissing the woman. He was gobbling her up like a cartoon character attacking a lamb shank. They sat on the same side of the booth, both still in their overcoats, clawing at each other like they’d been waiting for this opportunity all day.

How was this possible? I’d talked to him this morning, confirming the reservation for tonight.

Thanks, babe. Let’s meet up there. Hope you got a good table.

What was I missing? Was there a hidden meaning to that text? My eyes burned and my legs felt like fence posts, bolted to the sidewalk, as I continued to stare at the window. They didn’t even come up for air. People needed air, right?

I was vaguely aware of Trevor clearing his throat, but I couldn’t move. My brain had connected another dot: I knew the woman. It was the ex—Carolyn. The one he always complained about. But I could tell he wasn’t thinking of her flaws now. He didn’t really care how she loaded the dishwasher (front to back, the maniac) or randomly pumped the gas pedal. He was probably obsessed with her perfect blonde waves and talon-like white nails. She looked like a dying bird clawing at his ponytail.

For her, he’d probably cut off the ponytail, his symbol of rebellion among the finance guys. She was tugging at it with borderline violence, so maybe Carolyn and I agreed on this one detail. If you’d had a ponytail since you were sixteen, it was a symbol of inertia, not rebellion.

“I thought you guys were exclusive.” Trevor’s voice cut through my thoughts.

I shut my eyes, wishing to erase his pesky existence. Of all the days in my life, most of them filled with work and nothing else, why did this have to be the day Trevor appeared in the flesh? He belonged in my chat window. I could handle him there. I almost liked him there—a friend I could ignore at will and bring up when needed.

I took a breath, keeping my voice level. “Me, too.”

There was no way for me to save face, even if I avoided looking at him. Also, it wasn’t my fault Richard was currently cheating on me, was it? He was cheating on me one block away from my office, which felt deliberate. Was he trying to get caught?

Maybe I should have seen this coming. He’d talked about Carolyn a lot. But people talked about their exes. He’d always framed it as a compliment to me, comparing me to this woman who couldn’t parallel park and cried over doing taxes. I’d stood up for her, reminding him that we each had our weaknesses, slightly terrified of what he’d say when learned about mine. But I’d never thought he’d been hung up on his ex. That’s how blind I was.

“Sorry.” Trevor glared at the window, eyebrows drawing together.

“Save it. I know you hate him.”

“I’m not sorry for Dick. I’m sorry for you.”

“Dick?”

“Ach! I was going for his nickname.”

“Nobody calls him Dick.”

Trevor lifted a brow. “I do, in my head.”

I blew out a breath. “You know what? From now on, I’ll join you.”

“Would you like me to…”

“What? Kick his teeth in?” I huffed, half-laughing at the absurdity.

Not because he couldn’t—Trevor could probably send the guy to an early grave with one hand tied behind his back. But we didn’t have that kind of relationship. At least, I didn’t think we did.

Trevor looked unfazed. “Aye.” He peeled off his gloves and cracked his giant knuckles. “Dinnae think of it as a favor. Think of it as somethin’ fun I’ve always wanted to do.”

“You hate him that much, huh?”

“Nae.” He looked like he was about to say something else but changed his mind. “Just happy to help.”

I sighed, glancing at the window again. My boyfriend—strike that, my ex -boyfriend—was now talking to the waiter, gesturing at the menu. “That’s okay. He’s not worth it.”

Part of me had always known we’d part ways, eventually. Either that, or we’d magically fall in love. How delusional had I been to even think that earlier?

My sister Suzanne had once told me I was probably too independent to fall in love. She might have had a point. I’d never slept over in Richard’s apartment or left my things behind. He’d poked fun at me for my “crime scene cleaning,” but I didn’t care. That was why they were called personal belongings—they belonged in my home.

In the nine months we’d been together, we’d only ever talked about the future in vague terms. Before Thanksgiving, he’d suggested a trip to his parents’ place in Connecticut, but I’d carefully steered us off that topic. If you weren’t madly in love, why would you meet someone’s parents? So, maybe this was all my doing. I’d been holding back.

Of course, he could have done the decent thing and broken things off before sucking the tonsils off another woman. Even Suze couldn’t say this was my fault. Not that I had to worry about my sister saying anything like that. She might have been in a blissfully co-dependent relationship, but she didn’t want me to give up my independence for the wrong guy. And now I knew Richard was exactly that.

“Are you sure?” Trevor pressed on. “I’d very much enjoy helping him see the error of his ways.”

A small part of me wanted to see Trevor march in there, lift my useless boyfriend by his fake-fur collar and shake him for loose change. For entertainment, or closure. Maybe both. But did I really want a favor from Trevor?

I cast him a warning look. “If you think that using your fists to defend my honor will make us even, think again.”

He dropped his arms to his sides, feigning defeat. “No, my darling dragonfly. Nothing could ever make us even.”

He’d taken to calling me that sometime in the last few weeks. I pretended to be offended, but it was hard, because dragonflies were awesome.

“And you can drop the hurt bunny look with the fists,” I instructed him, keeping my voice calm. “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.”

His eyebrows lifted. “How much time are we talking about?”

That playful spark in his eyes hit my insides, causing a slight wobble. This is why I didn’t want to see him in person. Everything about him threw me off balance and brought back memories. I’d friend-zoned him for all eternity for a reason.

I’d first met him about two years ago, when I’d taken the designer job at Wilde Creative. We’d flirted from day one. Inside jokes, looks, and glances, a bit of friendly competition. We’d kept bumping into each other in the tiny printer room, bonding over our frustration with the complicated machine and its constant paper jams. By the time the Fourth of July party rolled around, my panties were already halfway to melting off. But I was also in the middle of a huge campaign. A career-defining one. I’d pitched my idea to Charlie, our Creative Director, and he’d liked it. All I needed was the blessing of his team, and I’d be designing a massive blockchain game.

Nope. Trevor vouched for Boris, and they chose him. What was worse, I stood right there, behind a potted palm tree. I heard his words, loud and clear.

Maybe Teresa isn’t the right fit.

I guess I’d been lucky to hear those words and see his true colors. Just like I was lucky right now to find out the truth about Richard. I didn’t feel lucky, though.

Trevor hadn’t just cost me the job. He’d cost me my big break. As it turned out, the client was so happy with their work that they each got gifted a whole lot of tokens, the internal currency of the new game. In six months, the game tokens were upgraded into a crypto currency and the value of the coins skyrocketed. And yes, they used my ideas. Not exactly as-is, but not any better either. If anything, they butchered those graphics.

I could have used the money. I’d been saving for a deposit to buy my own place, scraping it together. I’d still managed to buy a small condo, but on a tight budget, at the worst possible time.

I didn’t know Wilde Creative was going to implode, causing us both to look for new employment. As expected, Trevor had followed Charlie like he was the pied piper. And I’d followed both because I had no choice. I still wasn’t sure why they’d offered me a job at their new venture, but it must have had something to do with Bess. She had pull with Charlie, and Charlie had pull with Trevor. So, here I was—working with the guy who’d so casually betrayed me, trying to avoid him in person for the sake of my fragile equilibrium.

“Why are you even here?” I asked, my voice sticking to my throat.

He glanced to his left, and I noticed his blue Volvo parked in front of the restaurant. “I’m off to check out a vacant office in Cozy Creek.”

“Cozy Creek?” My insides flipped. “I thought we talked about this! The clients are here, it doesn’t make sense…”

I tried to quell the swelling panic. My job could not be moving to a small mountain town in the middle of nowhere. There was no way.

“Bess and Charlie seem tae think it could work. We cannae stay in the current one and everything else in Denver is too expensive. Plus, the company is already called Cozy Creative.”

I groaned. “That name is so misleading! Someone called us today asking if we do baby accessories.”

Trevor’s mouth twitched. “Well, in Cozy Creek it’ll make sense.”

At the last meeting, we’d agreed that the company would stay in Denver for the time being, which I had hoped meant at least for a year—or however long it took me to find another job. I’d been distracted though, happily working on exciting new briefs that Charlie kept hauling in. For all his faults, that man could attract quality clients.

When I got excited, I got absorbed, telling myself that I’d just finish this next job before updating my portfolio. It had been months and the only thing I’d done was idly browse job ads on my lunch breaks while snacking on yogurt raisins and pretzels.

It was exciting to be part of something new, away from our old boss’s looming presence. We played music as loud as we liked, took breaks whenever we wanted, and celebrated every win. I’d even toyed with the idea of becoming a shareholder, since Charlie kept that option on the table. But that would have meant owning a piece of the same company as Trevor. He and our developer, Lee, had jumped onboard from the start, and I’d become the only full-time employee. I had a good deal. I wasn’t sure how they could afford it, but I didn’t want to question it. Not while I was saving up for a vacation in Bali. One I would now have to take alone, if at all.

Planning that trip with Richard had been fun. We’d talked about March or April. Had he already been seeing Carolyn behind my back? If I hadn’t stumbled on them, would he have told me? Or would he have booked tickets to Bali and a third one for Carolyn so he could see her in the neighboring hut behind my back? There were too many questions. Nausea swelled in my stomach, momentarily overtaking hunger.

I took a breath, hiding my face from Trevor. “Why are you here?” I asked again, narrowing my eyes. “This isn’t on the way to Cozy Creek.”

“I came to pick ye up.”

I frowned, suspicious. “You think I want to come with you to see some stupid office?”

His smile was infuriatingly casual. “Call it a courtesy kidnapping.”

He raised the collar of his winter coat against the cold. His beard looked tidier than I remembered, and his skin had a healthy pinkish tint. It must have been the cold teasing his capillaries. The Trevor I knew had more of an ashy complexion and a revolting smoker’s cough. But he was handsome, I had to admit. Built like a tree, with wildly curling dark hair and smoky teal eyes. A man I could easily imagine with an axe, even if I’d only ever seen him with a laptop.

“I can’t go for a joyride in the middle of a workday. It’s hours away!”

“Hundred and fifty kilometers.” He loved annoying me with the metric system.

My breath was shaky and my hands trembled, but despite myself, I laughed. “Fuck you all the way back to Scotland!”

I shouldn’t have raised my voice. As if in slow motion, Richard turned to look out the window, and his gaze landed on me. I’d never seen a deer in headlights, but I finally understood the reference. Even through the glass, I could tell his face went white as his mouth dropped open. We stared at each other. I wasn’t sure how much time passed. It might have been a nanosecond, or ten minutes. But eventually, I felt Trevor’s hand on my shoulder, guiding me away from the window.

Before I turned around, I saw Richard getting up. Was he coming outside? Bile crept to my throat. I didn’t want to talk to him. I couldn’t stomach the excuses or explanations.

I launched towards Trevor’s car, stumbling over a pile of dirty snow. I heard the double beep of the central lock, and I scrambled inside. Trevor slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, steering us away from the restaurant. Away from Richard and that woman.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I can’t handle talking to him. Do you think I should?”

“No,” he grunted with an air of finality.

He changed lanes, and my gaze fell on the highway signs. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Cozy Creek. I told ye.”