Chapter 4
Bronson
I’m dumbfounded. “Is Chloe okay?” I’m not used to girls running away from me.
Brittany’s jaw drops open, but no words come out.
I run a hand through my hair. “Are you okay? What’s going on? Did I miss something?”
With eyes wide, Brittany stares at me. “You…know…her name?”
“Of course I know her name. Chloe Reid. She”s the amazing Mountain View Press Senior Editorial Assistant and snack connoisseur.”
“Why do you always call her Carly then?”
I grin and feel my shoulders relax. “It’s an inside joke. You know, like your ‘be careful’ thing.”
Brittany narrows her eyes at me. “But who is on the inside with you?”
“Chloe and I. I’m surprised she never told you about it.” I always enjoyed our little banter. When I first met her, I thought she said her name was Carly. As a joke, I kept it up. She would always flash her adorable smile whenever I called her Carly. Her cheeks would even turn light pink, and she’d get all quiet.
Crossing her arms, Brittany shakes her head at me. “Bronson, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you are the only one on the inside of that joke.”
“What do you mean?”
“Chloe never knew you were joking.” She looks at me with her hands outstretched, like this should be obvious.
I wave away her ludicrous comment, but when she only stares back at me, the color drains from my face. “Chloe thinks I don’t actually know her name?”
Brittany nods. Staring off toward the elevator, I run my hand through my hair while my mind races. “I feel like such a jerk.”
I hear Brittany murmur “mmmhhmmm” while I start sprinting toward the stairs. I’m not an Olympian or anything, but I’m a fairly decent runner. There’s a chance I can catch her.
My client, Mitch Landry, specifically requested Chloe to edit his manuscript. When Kayley told me Chloe put in her two weeks’ notice, I knew I had to come in today to try to get her to stay on the project as a consultant.
I race down the last flight of stairs and throw open the door to the lobby. Looking across the shiny marble floors I scan for her, but it’s just a sea of brown and blonde. I jog to the exit and see a woman with red-ish hair near a crosswalk.
Relief washes over me as I race to catch her. “Chloe,” I call out. She doesn’t turn around, so I tap her shoulder. The woman turns, but it’s not Chloe.
“So sorry ma’am. I thought…” I trail off.
When I arrive back on the 19th floor of the Mountain View building, I see Brittany walking toward me. I groan as she approaches. I’m not sure this day can get any worse.
“Did you find her?” she asks.
“No. Did she say why she’s leaving?”
“She’s moving on.”
“Where to?”
Brittany holds something up. I squint, looking closer.
“Sunshine Shores,” we say at the same time as I read the small print at the bottom of a tropical looking postcard.
At that moment, my phone rings. Looking down, I see Kayley’s name. I guiltily ignore it and immediately receive a text that says, “SOS.”
“Can I see that?” I ask, pointing to the postcard. Brittany shrugs and hands it to me.
My phone rings again. “Thank you. I’m sorry Brittany, I have to take this call. I really appreciate you…”
“Bursting your inside joke bubble?”
I rub my forehead. “Yeah, that.”
“You”re welcome, and you can keep the post card,” she says and walks away.
I glance down at the card and stuff it into my suit coat pocket. Hitting answer, I am immediately bombarded by Kayley’s frantic voice.
“Bronson, did you get Chloe? Please tell me she’s locked in as Mitch’s editor?”
Sighing, I confess, “Not yet.”
Kayley practically shrieks. “You know how fickle Mitch is. He threatened to walk. He said he can get any agent. Apparently Jackson Moore has been reaching out to him. Jackson Moore!”
My head starts pounding. Jackson is my competition, my professional enemy if you will. Mitch knows that going with him would be a slap in the face, which is exactly why he used it as ammo.
Inhaling, I try to reassure Kayley. “I got this, okay? Don’t worry about Mitch. I’ll talk to him.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she murmurs quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Last time we talked, he screamed, ‘Don’t call me until I have Chloe Reid as my editor!’”
I stare up at the cloudy sky. The pain and tightness in my chest is back. I bring my hand to my heart, willing the sensation to dissipate. As I do so, I feel a sharp edge and pull out the postcard.
“Bronson. Helloooo? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Gazing at the serene coastal scene of Sunshine Shores, my next move becomes clear.