Chapter 6 Warren #2
He lists other committee assignments, but he might as well be whispering into a can. I don't hear a word he says.
My pulse spikes. The room is suddenly airless.
After a marathon two-hour meeting, the boardroom empties like water circling a drain. Expensive leather shoes squeak against marble tiles. Voices bounce off the walls in animated discussions about quarterly reports and potential donors.
I hang back, straightening papers that don't need straightening, capping and uncapping my new pen after destroying the first one. Anything to avoid looking up. My shirt collar is suddenly two sizes too small.
Janie glides past my chair, the scent of something citrusy and expensive trailing behind her. I force myself to my feet.
Act normal. For God's sake, just act normal.
The hallway outside is all glass and chrome, sunlight slicing through massive windows. I fall into step beside her, not quite intentionally. My legs just move that way.
"Warren." Her voice is crisp, professional. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "It's been a while."
"Five years." The words slip out before I can stop them.
Her gaze flickers to mine, then away. "Five years, two months."
She's counted. My chest tightens.
"I had no idea you were back in Palm Beach."
"I'm surprised Blake didn't mention it. He's been over the moon about the kids."
I nod like this is nothing, like we're just catching up. Like, I didn't break something between us years ago. My right hand is still sticky from the black ink explosion. I ball it into a fist.
"Blake and I don't see each other much anymore. He's busy with the family. I'm buried in work." I keep my tone neutral. "We grab beers when we can, but it's not like before. Adulting sucks."
Not like when we were inseparable. When his family was mine too.
"How long have you been back?"
"Just over a week. It's been a whirlwind trying to get moved and settled and starting work." She adjusts the folder in her arms. "I've been staying with Mom and Dad until I close on my new place."
"Right." I put my right hand in my pants pocket, a nervous habit, and regret it immediately. God, I hope I didn't ruin this suit. "It's a good project Pope's put together. The pediatric initiative."
"Yes. I'm looking forward to making real change here. Right in my backyard. It's exciting." Her voice is butter-smooth, but there's steel underneath. "You've certainly made yourself indispensable to CHG."
"I actually know Pope Carrigan through work. He asked me to be on the board not long after the conversion. I hesitated at first, but I've enjoyed being a part of this."
"I'm glad it's worked out."
The words hang there, double-edged. Professional on the surface. Razor-sharp beneath.
We stop at the elevator bank, standing a careful arm's length apart. The tension builds in the silence, a physical thing I could reach out and touch.
"I'll send over the compliance framework by the end of the week for you to review," she says.
I nod. "I'll look it over right away."
The elevator doors slide open. She steps inside.
"Welcome back to Palm Beach, Janie."
Her eyes meet mine, and for just a moment, I see the girl I knew. The one I left. The two of us alone in the elevator might be too awkward, so I act like I need to walk down the hall before leaving.
"Goodbye, Warren."
The doors close between us.
I'm halfway down A1A before I realize I have no destination. The Range Rover's air conditioning blasts against my face, but it doesn't cool the heat crawling up my neck.
Five years, two months. She counted.
I pull over at the public beach access lot, cutting the engine but keeping the AC running. The folder from today's meeting sits accusingly on the passenger seat. CHG's sleek logo is embossed on the cover. Inside are graphs and projections and strategic initiatives in Janie's precise handwriting.
Janie's.
Her voice replays in my head, that cool steel underneath. Not the girl who teased me about my law school textbooks sprawled across her parents' kitchen table. Not the one who fell asleep on the bean bag with her bowl of popcorn during Harrelson family movie nights.
This Janie owns a room when she walks into it. Commands attention without asking. Slides statistics and seven-year projections across mahogany tables while board members nod along.
"Goddamnit." My still-stained palm connects with the steering wheel.
The ocean stretches out beyond the windshield, the early evening sun turning it molten. I should be at the office, not sitting here like some lovesick teenager. I have depositions to prepare. The Ramirez consultation notes to review.
But all I can see is her face when the elevator doors closed. That flash of... what? Pain? Anger? Nothing?
She has every reason to hate me, to be angry with the way things ended. I was a coward. I slept with her, with her parents downstairs, and then snuck out and never responded to her attempts to reconnect.
Five years. Shit, how has it been that long?
How the hell am I supposed to work with her? To sit across from her in meetings, pretending we're just colleagues? Pretending I don't know how she tastes, how she sounds when—
Stop. This is exactly why I walked away. Why I blocked her number. Janie Harrelson is the one line I can't cross again without destroying everything.
I drag my hands down my face, exhaling hard.
"Professional," I mutter. "Just be fucking professional."
But my body remembers. Every cell vibrates with awareness that she's back in Palm Beach. Back in my orbit. Not a fleeting visit before she returns to Chicago.
She's here, and not only can I not escape her,. we have to work together on this initiative. I already told Pope I would. The announcement was made at the meeting. There is no getting out of this while keeping my professional pride in tact.
I rake my fingers through my hair, squeezing my eyes shut. The leather seat creaks as I lean back, forcing deep breaths.
Boundaries. I need boundaries. Clear, professional lines. We'll work together on this community outreach program, and that's it. No late-night meetings. No drinks after work. No reminiscing about old times.
The ache in my chest calls me a liar.
I slam my finger into the ignition button, and the engine roars back to life. Pulling out onto the highway, I crank the radio to drown out my thoughts.
But the image of Janie commanding that boardroom follows me all the way home, burned into my retinas like I stared at the sun too long.