Our Last Night (The Hope Center #1)

1. Cori

Chapter one

Cori

PRESENT DAY

C urious eyes would be on me tonight, but I deserved it. I’d surprised the hell out of everyone.

The email had gone out to all JBC employees at eight o’clock this morning.

I knew my choice would be unexpected, but I hadn’t anticipated the level of shock that immediately began filling my inbox.

Was I absolutely sure? Was this a joke, Jason and Brad playing one last prank before settling into new roles at a big boy company?

I dodged the questions by working from home most of the day, but this party was unavoidable.

An evening breeze came in from the sound as I hurried across the intersection on First Ave.

RIP blowout. My pencil skirt strangled my legs, but I did my best to power walk in heels.

Reaching the lobby of our office building, I stopped to smooth myself out, then used my phone camera to touch up my lipstick.

As I stepped off the elevator into the open space of JBC’s third-floor suite, one of our senior account managers approached me.

“Hey Cori, you made it,” Leon boomed, shaking my hand. “I was hoping to run into you.” His features tightened as his arm dropped. “I have to admit, the email this morning caught me off guard.”

There was a question in his statement. My neck heated, and I sent up a silent thank-you for the top-of-the-line AC system we’d installed last year. It combated Seattle’s early September weather. And Leon’s inquisitive stare.

I smiled and looked him in the eye.

“It’s the right move for me,” I said firmly. “And of course I’d never miss the party. I would have gotten here earlier, but I had a lot of loose ends to tie up, as you can imagine.”

“Well, we will certainly miss the ‘C’ in JBC,” Leon said. “You did a great job ironing out the guys’ rough edges.”

I couldn’t help my small chuckle. We both knew “rough edges” was code for occasionally acting like overgrown frat boys . I had a reputation for being the grown-up in the room at JBC. Professional and consistent.

I peered over near the bar, catching my former partners’ eyes.

They tipped their glasses at me. It was strange that we’d started the business together, but I doubted we’d be more than passing acquaintances after today.

Still, I was fond of them and said as much to Leon.

“I think being part of a larger operation will be good for Jason and Brad.”

“But not for you?”

“No.”

He directed another probing glance at me, but I didn’t elaborate. A server passed by with a tray and I grabbed a Merlot. Taking a sip, I darted my eyes around. Having skipped lunch in favor of Pilates, food was my objective.

“So what’s next, Cori, since you’re not making the transition to TremMark?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’m taking my time to decide.”

I’d been contemplating leaving JBC for more than a year.

Six months ago, we’d agreed to sell to another large biotech firm.

TremMark made me a great offer—chief organizational operations director—to stay on once the acquisition was complete.

Instead, I’d taken my seven-figure portion of the sale and walked away.

I stepped aside before Leon could ask more questions.

The menu displays promised tacos somewhere.

On one side of the room, I found plates with shot glasses in the center, resting on whole basil leaves, filled with what looked like chunky tomato soup and stale breadsticks.

Was this supposed to be the bruschetta? Gross.

Another table held crackers with dollops of raw hamburger meat on top.

Tartare—hard pass. I never understood the mental gymnastics people went through to convince themselves raw ground beef was somehow elegant and not completely revolting.

The food at these events was always so bougie and pretentious. I wouldn’t miss that.

The last table had to be the tacos. I kept my chin down so no one would try to engage with me, even as I felt their eyes on my back.

More than one hundred people crammed into the open lobby.

Their voices echoed off the exposed brick walls and wood flooring.

At least I’d talked Jason and Brad out of hiring a DJ.

With limited space and an open bar, I didn’t need my last memory of the company to be watching my coworkers get sloppy and grind on one another.

I wondered how those staying on would do.

Even though Jason and Brad could occasionally be mistaken for douchey tech bros, with their jeans-and-hoodie uniforms and cringeworthy habit of referring to themselves as “disruptors,” they were decent people and brilliant scientists at heart.

I joined them five years ago because I honestly thought they could help cure cancer.

Hopefully, working at TremMark didn’t stop them.

But I couldn’t worry about that now. I’d made my decision. I headed toward the third table.

Aubrey from HR stepped into my path.

I attempted to shuffle around her, but she matched my movements and stayed in front of me. “Cori, you got all the docs I sent, right?” Like Leon, she looked at me like she wanted to ask if I’d fallen and hit my head.

Aubrey was exactly my age at twenty-nine, but I doubted anyone would guess that.

Most of the TremMark folks in attendance wore suits and dresses, while only a few JBC employees had changed into party attire.

She remained in her office clothes of baggy jeans and a Grand Teton National Park T-shirt.

I was also in my work attire—long, fitted gray sheath dress under a tailored black blazer.

Sensible yet sophisticated Louboutin Sab pumps.

“I received the papers, Aubrey. Thank you.”

She twisted her hands together. “You know that once you sign these last ones, everything is…final.”

It had actually been final for a while. The papers were merely a formality. But I guessed that she, like Leon, was still struggling to process my departure.

“I know, Aubrey. Thank you.” Her lips stayed flat as I angled past her.

It was a new experience having the worried frowns of my coworkers directed at me.

Staying on with TremMark would have been the safe choice, the expected choice, so of course I’d raised eyebrows when I turned it down.

That was why I waited until this morning to make my decision widely known.

I’d only told Jason, Brad, and the TremMark executives a few months ago, asking them to maintain discretion.

We’d all agreed it would be better to avoid giving folks more time to speculate about my leaving.

The last thing I wanted was for my decision to cause concern that something was wrong with this buyout, or that I didn’t support it.

I honestly believed the acquisition would give the vital work being done at JBC a better chance to flourish.

With additional money and access to resources and top talent, the science could progress more quickly.

Forty feet away, I caught the eye of TremMark’s chief science and technology officer, Graham Turner. He gave me a chin lift and began walking over.

Graham had been great throughout the entire process even though he seemed sorely disappointed when I told his team I would not be accepting their offer to stay on.

“Everyone keeps sneaking glances at you like you’re a celebrity, but they’re trying to play it cool.” He smirked. “Guess it’s to be expected now that you’ve finally clued people in on your plans.”

I sighed. “Pretty sure they’re worried I’ve been body snatched by aliens who forced me to turn down the job with you guys.”

“Is that what happened?” he teased. “Because I will fight some little green men if it means you’ll reconsider.”

I laughed and, not for the first time, noticed how attractive Graham was, with his artfully floppy dirty-blond hair and tall, gym-honed physique.

He had a great personality, too. He’d charmed the support staff at JBC with his sharp wit and dry humor, helping to ease the transition for everyone.

But even though he was single, I’d never been able to think of him in more than a professional capacity.

I wished I could because he was certainly what most women would consider a catch. The chemistry just wasn’t there.

“You don’t need to punch out any aliens. I assure you, this decision was all me.”

He nodded, and an admiring look crossed his features.

“I understand where your employees are coming from. You surprised me as well, Cori, and that doesn’t happen very often.

I’d heard you were the sensible one at JBC, so I figured you’d be the first to jump on board with us, as opposed to that duo over there.

” He gestured to Jason and Brad, who laughed loudly as they watched something on Brad’s phone.

“Those guys are actually pretty cool.” I defended my colleagues. “And they’re very good at what they do.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Graham spoke genuinely. “I sense the brilliance beneath the Zelda hoodies. We’re expecting great things. But that doesn’t mean we won’t miss you.”

“Thank you.”

“If you ever change your mind, the offer remains on the table. There will always be a place for you at TremMark.” Graham ran a palm through his hair, and I imagined a swoosh sound as it fell perfectly back into place.

“You have my number.” He shook my hand, holding it as he added in a low voice, “I’d love to hear from you. ”

My breathing hitched. Was he flirting? I couldn’t tell. This was what happened when you went more than a year without getting laid.

“About the job?” I blurted.

His cheek ticked. “Sure. You can call me anytime…about the job.” He squeezed my fingers lightly before stepping away to speak to someone else.

Now that definitely felt like flirting. Too bad I still didn’t feel a spark.

I resumed my taco mission, finally reaching the third table.

Except… These were… What?

I grabbed one of the little square plates and stared.

A whitish circle rested in the center, its texture mooshy and gelatinous.

It was the same thickness as a tortilla, but not like any I’d ever seen.

A square of something meat-like sat atop it.

There was a halved grape tomato in one corner, and a green sauce smeared across another. I looked up at the server in confusion.

“It’s a taco,” she said with about the same level of conviction I felt. I peered at the plate again as she continued, “It’s, uh, like, deconstructed. A pressed cauliflower tortilla with seasoned tempeh, tomato, and avocado crema. Vegan and gluten-free.”

I smiled tightly.

My brain conjured a memory of sitting on the steps of the Center eating Rosa’s tacos.

Little corn tortillas filled with spicy carnitas and topped with radishes and lime.

They’d been so juicy I’d had to hunch over, balancing a paper plate on my lap while keeping a wad of napkins handy. I shook my head at the recollection.

This was what I couldn’t explain to Aubrey or Leon.

Jason or Brad or Graham. Or the dozens of other employees who kept sending anxious glances my way.

I’d spent over a decade trying to be the kind of person who could imagine smooshed cauliflower when I saw the word “taco.” But I wasn’t a foodie.

I wasn’t many of the things people assumed I was.

Everyone here was celebrating the success of JBC, the company I’d helped found and been the chief financial officer of, the start-up that had become an industry leader in bioinformatics in less than half a decade.

But as hard as I’d worked to be in this room, I needed to step away before it was too late.

I had been the last to arrive at the party, but I was the first to leave.