Chapter 20
20
Juni
True colors don’t stay hidden for long.
“I thought you were going to come see me at lunch?” Taylor leans against the high counter of my desk like it’s his job to support it.
Did I miss something? Why does he sound annoyed with me, as if he wrongly presumed our lunch in the break room was a date? “Sorry, Taylor. I had other plans.” It’s not a lie. I ended up with plans in the end.
Tapping the counter to an annoying beat that doesn’t have a predictable melody, he says, “A lot of us are going to The Watering Hole after work. Do you want to join us?”
Wonder who ‘a lot’ is? Drew? Laurie? Mary? Or Joseph? Suddenly, I’m caught in what sounds like a nativity scene. Or The Wizard of Oz — oh my!
Not wanting to pursue a religious avenue or Hollywood classics, I consider the invitation. I’ve not spent time with many others, but I wouldn’t mind getting to know most of them better. I can practically see Gil high-fiving me for getting involved and developing more relationships. Completing my office supplies order, I finally give Taylor my undivided attention. “I’ll pass. Thank you.”
Baby steps.
He checks his watch and then starts to leave. “Too bad. I was looking forward to talking with you.” I guess he’s not familiar with what we’re doing now. “It’s five o’clock. Time to blow this joint.”
I’m no empath, but that guy comes off like an asshole. What is it with accountants in this company? I answer the last call of the day and then place my order online for a delivery on Tuesday. Melissa had her way of doing things, but I’ve already formed a few habits of my own. I don’t use the clip-on box and answer calls while assisting others. I’ve found that although I can multitask that aspect of my job, it’s disruptive to others when I’m walking around answering calls. So if I need to leave my desk, I send the calls to the service.
I like to get to work early as well. Not only is it peaceful but I also have time to organize the coffee supplies before they get messed up by the zombies showing up needing a first cup.
At the end of the day, it’s nice to say good night to everyone. Well, everyone who leaves before five thirty. That never includes Andrew and only occasionally includes Nick. The Christiansens are all workaholics from what I’ve witnessed.
Though sometimes they surprise me . . . while other employees pass by, saying good night as they head home, Nick Christiansen stops by my desk. We haven’t spoken much in these past few weeks, but it’s enough to be on a first-name basis. He says, “Hi Juni, some of us are going to The Watering Hole. It’s a place around the corner.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“Oh, good. Laurie and Joseph went early to grab some tables. It’s a last-minute plan, but will you be able to join us?”
He’s very good-looking, strikingly so, tall like his brother, dark hair, similar soulful brown eyes. His wife is a stunner herself. When his assistant was out sick, I was asked to take notes. That’s when I saw a photo of his wife on his desk.
But he’s no Andrew . . . I think it’s best if I don’t dwell on something more potentially happening there. I’ll only end up disappointed.
I drag my purse from the drawer. “I appreciate the offer, but?—”
“I’m ready,” Andrew says, filling the doorway. Not bothered by the witnesses waiting for the elevator or that his brother is standing there, he adds, “I hope you’re coming to the happy hour, Juni.”
“Absolutely.”
Nick carries forward, chuckling, and we both follow. “It will be good to unwind and visit with everyone outside the office.” There’s a similarity in how the Christiansen brothers make you feel special, like no one else is around when they’re talking to you.
The elevator opens, and as soon as the door closes, Nick adds, “I’d like you to meet my wife.”
Oh great! No pressure. Just me and Natalie St. James, now Christiansen, former Manhattan socialite who never much cared for the spotlight. I’ve read Page Six a few times over the years.
I’m close to asking why he wants me to meet his wife, but with eight people standing like sardines in this tin can, I think silence is best.
The doors open, and a guy announces, “You can fit two more,” before he and another guy push their way onto the elevator. The rest of us take a step back, making room we didn’t have to spare.
I hadn’t wanted to look around. Making eye contact in a confined space is one of my least favorite things. It becomes awkward quickly. Do I make small talk? Or pretend the other person doesn’t exist? Acknowledge them and then move on like they’re dead to me? Elevator etiquette is so confusing.
But in this frenzy of what to do, I hadn’t noted that Drew was behind me, taking up the back corner. Until now. One step back has my back pressed to his chest, his body so close that I can feel him breathing, almost certain that his heart is pumping as hard as mine.
When the elevator jolts to a stop on the eighteenth floor, it causes us to shift with it. Sometimes, I regret wearing my nicest heels, four and a half inches of black leather Louboutins. Not today. When I’m thrown off balance, his hand catches the underside of my arm, and his other hand steadies my hip closest to the wall. No one knows. No one but him and me. My arm is released although his other hand lingers a few seconds longer.
My heart’s been racing since the moment I touched him, and my body’s temperature is rising. It’s stuffy in here. Just me? I run my finger under the collar of my sweater and look around.
Everyone looks uncomfortable and ready to be out of this hot box. I’m not sure most of their faces would be any different if we were in the fresh air. Dipping my head forward, I swipe the hair from my neck, pulling it over my left shoulder. I close my eyes and swear I feel the ghost of his hand caressing my skin.
The pressure of his fingers dragging straight down my spine. His lips a breath away. “Ahh.” The sound escapes without permission, and my eyes snap open again.
Nine sets of eyes are staring at me. I’m feeling confident to include Drew, though there’s no way I’m turning around to verify. I find my safe place in Nick when he grins sympathetically. The doors open to the lobby, and then he moans loudly. “Thank God we’re here. I hold my breath, too.”
While I stand in awe of what he just did to cover for me, a few chuckles are heard. But the rest rush forward. Only the three of us are left then, and Nick and Drew both wait for me to exit first.
I want to thank him, but Julie from the brokerage division says, “I was the new girl until you arrived. How are you settling in?”
“I think I’m mostly settled.” As we walk, we talk, our large group scattered in the horde of other New Yorkers just getting off work. I only glance back once to see Drew, Nick, and Jackson St. James talking as they walk together.
It’s then that I notice Drew isn’t wearing a suit jacket. He’s rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms and the Rolex I remember from the park. His tie is loose and hanging slightly askew on his chest. Basically, the man’s trying to kill me, or at least weaken my knees.
And he’s succeeding.
Inside the bar, Julie introduces me to many of the employees from the brokerage. Joseph is trying to handle his second beer and failing. Lightweight. And I’ve had this weird feeling that Drew is avoiding me, which causes me to hesitate before approaching him. But every time I find him in the crowd, his eyes are on me.
Half the bar’s eyes are on him. Understandable. But after he staked claim to me when it came to Taylor earlier, I’ve been motivated a few times to stake claims of my own.
That would be wrong.
So wrong.
I’d lose this job, a job I wasn’t even sure I wanted to keep a week ago. Here I am, trying to figure out which department I want to join when Melissa returns.
It was one mental reference to Taylor, nothing even spoken out loud. And there he is, coming toward me with a shit-eating grin and a beer in hand. “Thought you were passing?”
Not that I feel the need to justify my change of mind to him, but I say it anyway, hoping it satisfies his curiosity, “I got talked into it.”
“That’s cool. I’m heading over to talk with the boss man. Want to come?”
Now, this is the kind of offer I can get on board with. Leaving space between us gives others the opportunity to join in as well. Drew is in full-on CEO Andrew mode right now, so I flip that switch in my mind and try to keep my thoughts in line.
It’s just so hard when I can still feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck, the heat of his hand imprinted on my hip, and those eyes that intimidate any guy who dares to look my way. Yeah, I’ve noticed. How is it possible that he’s even hotter when he’s protective of me? Damn him.
I don’t think I cared how long it had been since I was with a man until I met him. Owning toys might get the job done, but there’s no passion when it comes to anything requiring batteries and an instruction manual. I miss the emotion, someone telling me I’m beautiful, falling asleep in someone’s arms, and sitting beside them on a lazy Sunday, even if they told me I had overstayed my welcome.
Dating in New York is tough. Most men want a girlfriend but not a wife, a whore in bed but not a significant other come morning. I’ve had one-night stands and don’t judge others for trying to fulfill their own emptiness. I miss the other stuff, the life that comes after when you connect on a deeper level—good morning kisses, coffee, and a scone in bed together, or losing a day lost in each other.
It’s not just what I miss. It’s what I want.
Gil was right. I’m ready. I’ve just been my own worst enemy.
Julie makes talking to the head honcho look so easy. Her light laughter and expressive arms as she talks with Andrew about the recent wild ride of the market. I attempt to join in as a group of stockbrokers talk shop with him but somehow get cut out of the conversation.
I take a sip of my water and look around. Making eye contact with Nick, I’m reminded I want to thank him. When he waves me over, I’m about to work my way around the table but stop and turn back when I hear my name being called in that deep tone that makes my tummy tighten.
Andrew says, “Do you want to join us?”
I know he wants me here, but the collective expressions of the others tell me to stay back.“Thank you, but I was just going to visit with someone over there.” I point indirectly to an area that could really signify half the bar, but he’s not dumb. He knows an excuse when he hears one.
The group returns to slobbering at his feet, and I head in Nick’s direction. Nick has his arm around his wife but lowers it to her waist when I approach. “Juni, I want you to meet my wife, Natalie. Natalie, this is who I was telling you about. Juni Jacobs.”
Natalie practically gasps, her lips parting in the same shared excitement Nick has. Reaching forward, she holds my forearm. “I’ve heard so much about you. Also, you have an incredibly great name.” Leaning back against her husband. They make a beautiful couple, but it’s the love that you can see shared between them when they’re together that is most notable.
My heart squeezes, letting me know it’s there.
“Thank you, but you’re making me curious what was said.”
They laugh, but I’m still not in on the joke. Making our circle smaller, she says, “Nick has told me you’ve been quite the asset to CWM, but before that, you helped Andrew out on one of Cookie’s missions.”
“What’s a cookie mission?”
Nick gets pulled away, but Natalie stays to chat as if we’re allies, ready to give me the insider’s scoop. “Cookie Christiansen is Nick and Andrew’s mother.”
“I’ve heard about her, but I’m not sure I knew her name was Cookie. That’s unique.”
“It is, like her.” She takes a sip through the straw of what looks like a vodka soda with lime, and then adds, “You’ll love her. She’s amazing.”
“She sounds like it, but I’m not sure I’ll ever meet her. I’m just covering the reception desk temporarily while Melissa’s on maternity leave.”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows pull together. “Oh, I thought you and Andrew were. . .” She looks across the tables at Andrew standing at the other end, the confusion deepening in her skin. When she turns back, she says, “My apologies. I think I misunderstood.”
“It’s okay. Drew and I have become good friends.” I’d love to confide in someone and share how cute he was eating rocky road ice cream, or how he called me babe when he was drunk, and now it’s a running joke. Or even that he slips and allows kismet into his life when he’s not busy rejecting that it exists. There are so many things I’d love to talk to a friend and share, and I’m pretty sure Gil doesn’t want to hear them.
Although she seems to understand the reality of my relationship with her brother-in-law, her expression soon changes, and a good-natured grin appears. She takes another pull from the straw like she just might not believe me. “That’s sweet that you call him Drew. You’re the only one.”
I didn’t realize I had slipped with his name. “Oh, um?—”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Nick’s said so many nice things about you and Andrew that I thought it was . . .” She glances at the group nearby, and then whispers to me, “Not so private. But I can imagine that’s best when you work together.”
Before I have time to process that she’s practically welcomed me into the family by assuming Drew and I are having some torrid love affair, she asks, “Do you like shopping? I’ve built a business around it, but my best friend, Tatum, and I are meeting for brunch on Sunday and then going shopping. I’d love for you to join us. By the way, your outfit is to die for. From the Louboutins to the Chanel sweater—impeccable.”
“The sweater was my grandmother’s. She loved fashion but was conservative in the way she dressed. She has a closet full of Chanel and St. John.”
“It’s vintage? It’s gorgeous. And there’s nothing like the classic round toe pump.”
I like her. She could be a model from her beauty alone, but her kindness makes her approachable. I haven’t talked about clothes or even cared about them since my grandmother passed away. Lately, I’ve chosen what to wear the night before, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of Drew. The name alone has me scanning the crowd for him. When our eyes meet, he smirks. There’s something mischievous, something naughty about it, but I know it’s just for me.
I smile right back and then take a drink. Talking clothes and shoes, shopping, and brunch with women around my age sounds amazing, so I say, “I’d love to come on Sunday.”
“Great. It will be so much fun.” We exchange numbers before she rejoins Nick’s side and gets caught up in a conversation with her brother, Jackson.
Close to calling it a night, I head for the restroom. When I come out, I see Drew standing near the entrance to the main part of the bar. “Are you waiting for me?” I tease with a wink.
“Yes.” There’s no deviation in his tone. He’s dead serious, or sexy serious, which fits him better.
His answer surprises me, and my mind starts spinning, wondering if I am reading this situation all wrong. “Am I in trouble?”
“By the looks of it.” I don’t quite catch on until it registers that he’s referring to himself. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
My lips part, allowing me to take the breath I need to calm my racing heart. It doesn’t work, so I lean into it, the thread of friendship narrowing with every minute we spent together. I almost wonder if we’ve been fooling ourselves all along and were always destined to end up like this. “I was just leaving.”
“What a coincidence. I’ve already said my goodbyes.”