Chapter Eleven
See The End ~ mid-July
“ W elcome to Prewitt Publishing,” Ashton says as he holds open the sleek glass doors to the old brick building in downtown Tuscaloosa.
I walk through, looking around at the cream walls, cherry wooden floors, and sunlit entryway.
Plants line the walls and countertops, almost hiding the bubbly-looking receptionist, whose nameplate reads Kimber Daniels.
I wave hello after Ashton introduces me as his potential new client, leaving anything to do with Noah out of the interaction, which I appreciate.
But then, a tall, slender-built man pops his head out of the door across the room.
He’s got reddish-brown hair, light eyes, and a friendly face, giving nerdy boy-next-door vibes.
“Esme,” Ashton says, gesturing to the man who has fully entered the room. “This is my best friend, Vance Ladner.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Vance shakes my hand, his accent thicker than Ashton’s. “Heard a lot about you.”
I glance suspiciously at Ashton, and he shrugs, his hands deep in his pockets. Heard about me from Ashton or Noah? I click my tongue and shake my head before turning my attention back to his friend. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”
Branda walks in from outside, and before I turn to greet her, I don’t miss the way Vance’s green eyes soften and sparkle when he looks her way.
I almost ask Ashton if they are a thing, but then I remember he said she was single.
Hmm . If she ends up attempting to play matchmaker with me, maybe I can do it right back. An eye for an eye and all that.
“Oh, good. You’re here,” Branda says in a quipped tone toward Vance, not giving him the time of day as she power walks past him.
When she sees me, she stops in her tracks and smiles widely.
“Hi, Esme! Glad Ashton decided to show you the place. Can’t wait to have you on board.
” She pulls me in for a quick hug before clicking away in her bright green heels and yellow pencil skirt, dark brown hair bobbing in its high ponytail.
I guess she and Noah share the same eclectic taste.
She pauses halfway into the hallway and looks back at us.
Vance bites back a smirk when Branda barks, “Vance Ladner. Get your butt back here. We have a book cover crisis to address. One that you caused. Again.”
Branda turns on her heel while Vance looks back at me and Ashton. He shrugs and openly grins, waggling his brows. “Boss lady calls.”
I flick my eyes to Ashton after Vance disappears, and Ashton answers my unspoken question. “Branda is head of marketing and design, and Vance is her new assistant. By choice.” Ashton grimaces as he speaks that last phrase.
“He is smitten with her,” I comment. “I know you said Branda was single, but is something going on?”
Ashton sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Branda is set on being single, and Vance knows that. They’ve known each other for a lifetime because Vance was always over at the house hanging out with me and Noah.”
“Hm.”
“I just don’t want to see Branda crush his heart beneath her colored heels. He’s even softer than he looks.”
I laugh despite the seriousness in Ashton’s tone.
I’ve known Branda for one day. We hung out all day yesterday, playing games, touring Tuscaloosa, and helping make and eat homemade pizza for dinner at the Prewitt’s place.
I ended the day teetering on a dangerous highline of hope and sorrow.
Hope that maybe something will click, I’ll regain my memories, and I’ll fully understand what happened with me and Noah.
Then, I could become a part of this family that makes me feel right at home.
The sorrow… Well, that originates from the anger and sense of betrayal I feel over my family.
I’ve always been close with my parents and Ethan, and now, the rift dividing us is dark and deep.
Logically, I know we will come to an understanding, and all of this will one day be water under the bridge.
But right now, it hurts. Like water filling my lungs.
Changing the topic, I peruse the front room once more.
“It’s decorated like your chosen rooms at your house,” I note. “This whole building is saturated with your earthy style.”
“Noah didn’t get his hands on this place.” Ashton opened his arms wide. “He only wants to be one of the authors. He was never interested in the business side of authoring. Just the creative process.”
I snort. “After all the research I’ve done to publish independently, I can wholeheartedly say it’ll be much easier on me to have an agent. When you reached out, I nearly had a heart attack of relief.”
“Speaking of agenting and stuff, do you want to go see the back?”
Nodding, I follow him through the door Vance and Branda disappeared through moments earlier.
It’s a long hallway with photos of books they’ve published and authors they represent lining the light brown walls.
Several doors are on either side, and Ashton leads to the very last one on the left.
The golden plate on the white door reads: Nikhil A. Prewitt, CEO.
“Fancy,” I comment, touching the sign.
He grins and winks. “Yep. And because I’m an important and busy CEO,” his voice laced with self-deprecation before his features shift into seriousness, “I only personally take on authors I genuinely believe in.”
My heart leaps. Not a romantic thump, but one of happiness. But I have to ask. “Or is it a repayment of sorts for helping you locate Noah?”
Ashton shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hope you start believing in your talents soon, Esme. I like my clients confident in their work.”
“Fine,” I feign annoyance and sigh dramatically. “I guess I’ll start believing you.”
He laughs, then messes with my hair as if I’m his younger sister. “There you go.”
If I’m being honest with myself, these past two days with Ashton have been healing in many ways.
He’s told me the truth, has been a shoulder to cry on and an ear to confide in, and lastly, has been patient with me as I process.
I’m nowhere near done processing everything, but this is a start.
And going over a book contract with him is making younger Esme shout for joy.
If only for this moment, I’m just Esme. No amnesia. No teaching gig to go back home to. No family drama. No lost and forgotten potential fiancé.
Just Esme.
Better yet, just Lorraine E. Jenkins.
Romance writer.
Too open and honest for her own good.
Finally basking in her hidden, lifelong dream.
Tomorrow, I’ll search the depths of the blank space in my brain for answers as Ashton and I travel to Bora Bora.