21. Chapter 21
I adjust my collar for the third time as I check my reflection in the library window. My hands are shaking, the nerves so palpable that I give myself a second to calm down.
Moving over to the side of the building, I rest my back against the brick wall and take a deep breath.
I shouldn’t be this anxious over an interview at a bookstore. It’s small time compared to the stuff my father had me doing at Sanderson and Nicks while I was in high school, so why can’t I relax?
Maybe that’s why?
I didn’t have to interview for it. I’ve never had to interview for anything in my life. In fact, everything has been handed to me because of my last name. This will be the first time I’ve ever had to actually prove that I can get a job without my father’s help.
That’s why I don’t just want this job. I need it.
The savings I have are quickly dwindling and won’t be able to sustain a family for long. If I want to prove to Tiff and Ella that I can support them, that I can be the man they deserve, then I need to be able to support myself and do a fucking interview.
I push off the wall and head into the bookstore.
It’s quiet, but I like that. My life has been so full of pressure and people and noise, and maybe something like this is what I need.
I walk past the bestsellers and head to the cafe section of the bookstore where I was told to wait for my interview.
As I look around for the best seat, I’m surprised to see a familiar face sitting at the only table in use.
Honey.
Her dark hair is pulled back in that ballet bun again as she aggressively types something on her laptop.
With a large coffee resting at her side, it seems she’s been here a while.
It can’t be a coincidence.
I approach her slowly, waiting for her to register me, but whatever’s on her laptop is holding her attention.
“Honey,” I say quietly. “What are you doing here?”
She looks up, her face softening as she gives me a small smile.
“Hey, Jamie. Good to see you again.”
“Why doesn’t it feel like you mean that?”
She uses her heeled foot to push out the seat opposite her. “Sit.”
It’s not a request, it’s a command, and an attitude I’m not used to from her.
I glance around the bookstore, half-expecting my father to materialize from behind the sports romance section. “Is this—did they send you?”
“Jamie.” Her voice is tired as she closes her eyes. “Just sit down.”
Against my better judgment, I do. The chair scrapes against the floor as I pull it out, and for a moment, we just look at each other.
Two people who were supposed to get married, who were supposed to play their parts in the grand Nicks-Sanderson alliance, now sitting in a college bookstore like strangers because I fucked it all up.
And I’d do it again.
Over and over again.
“So they did send you,” I say quietly. It's not a question.
She takes a sip of her coffee before she answers. “They called me last night,” she says, her expression flat. The flattest I’ve ever seen, in fact.
What did they do to you, Honey?
The girl I grew up with wasn’t this emotionless. She’d wear her heart on her sleeve.
I guess I can’t blame it all on our parents. I was willingly part of it throughout high school. I thought we could fake our way through our lives, but we can’t.
We never could.
“It was your mother who called me. She’s very concerned about your ‘situation.’” She makes air quotes with one hand, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Apparently, you've lost your mind and thrown away your future for some girl and her kid.” She shakes her head in annoyance. “And the worst part is, they think I’m the only person who can talk you out of it.”
The casual dismissal of Tiff and Ella makes my jaw clench. “You can’t.”
That makes her smile. “Oh, I know I can’t.” She sets down her cup, meeting my eyes directly. “I’m just telling you what she said, not what I think.”
“And what do you think?”
Honey leans back in her chair, studying me with a softness I don’t deserve. “I think you're doing what you should have done years ago. Making your own choices. Living your own life.” She pauses. “I also think our parents are losing their collective shit about it, which is honestly the best part.”
Despite everything, I almost laugh. “Yeah?”
“Your father called mine three times yesterday.
Three times, Jamie. I heard him through the office door, screaming about legacies and family obligations and how you're destroying everything he built.” Her mouth curves into something that's not quite a smile and not quite a smirk. “It was beautiful.” Then she shakes her head. “Except for the part when he tried to imply I was the reason for it again. I mean, come on. I’m not even with—” She stops herself. “Never mind.”
“So you're not here to talk me out of it?”
“God, no.” She shakes her head, and for a moment, she looks more like the Honey I remember from before everything got complicated. “You can do whatever you want. You always could. You just thought the only way you’d be taken seriously was to blow everything up first.”
I swallow down the guilt I’ve been holding for years. There’s so much I need to say to Honey but haven’t.
“You’re better than this firm, you just…never believed it,” she says.
“So are you,” I add. It’s only a semblance of what I really feel.
“Pfft. No, I’m not.” Her eyes land on mine. “But I’m not here to talk about all the things we could’ve done differently. I’m here to warn you that they want you back.” She leans closer in. “More specifically, your dad wants you to replace me.”
“Honey—”
She raises a hand. “Don’t. It’s fine. I’ve always been second best with our families.
The runner-up. I knew it when I took on this internship.
Hell, the only reason I even took it was to save Tiff’s ass from your father, but that’s not news.
Jamie, they’re planning something to try to force you back. ”
My stomach drops. “What kind of something?”
She hesitates for a second before she whispers, “I've seen some documents I shouldn’t have.” Her voice drops lower, and she glances around the bookstore before continuing. “They've been digging into Tiff's background. Her family, her finances, her father's history—everything.”
Her father’s history. The father that was too drunk to help his pregnant daughter.
“They're building a case, Jamie. I don't know what for yet, but it's extensive.”
“Fuck.”
I knew he was coming for me.
She takes in a sharp breath. “I’ve also…” She closes her eyes. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. I’ve seen documents about you, too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” The way she’s looking at me makes me know immediately what she’s talking about.
“Adoption papers?”
“Wait, you know?” She leans back in her chair in surprise.
“Yeah… I found out a while ago.” I leave it at that, not wanting to dredge up the past and the way I treated her. I wish I could change that, but I know I can’t. “They’ve been trying to hide it because it fucks up my dad’s plans for when my grandfather passes away.”
“Oh.” The word comes out soft, and I watch realization dawn across her face. Her expression shifts—understanding mixing with something that looks like hurt. “When did you find out?”
The question hangs between us, and suddenly I'm back in that library four years ago. The night I found those documents. The night everything fell apart.
“The night I met Tiff,” I admit quietly. “I'd just found the papers in my father's office. That party at Thatcher's… I was already spiraling.”
Honey goes very still. “The night you—” She doesn't finish the sentence, but she doesn't have to.
The night I cheated on her for the first time.
“Yeah.” Guilt churns in my stomach. “I'm not making excuses, Honey. What I did was—”
She waves her hand. “Let’s not talk about it. A lot has happened since then, and I get it. Our life was—is—suffocating.”
“No, don’t marginalize it, Honey.” Her brows furrow at that. “I’m sorry,” I say, and fuck, those words feel too small. Too late. “For everything I put you through in high school. I was a selfish, entitled asshole who didn’t care who he hurt.”
She blinks, and shock filters across her face. That’s when I realize she never thought I’d say it out loud.
“That was a long time ago,” she says, her voice softer now.
“Not long enough,” I counter. “You didn’t deserve any of that. You were loyal, smart, good, and I used you like a damn crash test dummy. I was an asshole. Still am, probably, but I’m starting to see the wreckage I’ve left behind. You were the first and one of the worst affected casualties.”
She swallows hard, her lips parting like she wants to interrupt, but I’m not finished.
“And I’m sorry for more than just how I treated you.
I’m sorry I let it happen at all. That I gladly went along with the plan our parents had for us, knowing it wasn’t what I wanted.
I’m sorry I stayed in our relationship and for not taking accountability of my feelings.
I guess I kind of hoped you’d get sick of me and end it, so I didn’t have to. ”
Her breath hitches.
“I should’ve been honest. I should’ve told you what I felt, and what I didn’t feel. I’m sorry for ever making you believe we had something I could never give you.”
There’s a long pause, but I need to be honest with her. “I loved you, Honey. Still do. In my own fucked-up way, but not the way you need, or deserve.”
I laugh under my breath, dry and sharp.
“You were my best friend. The closest thing I had to family, and maybe that was the problem. I loved you , and I didn’t know how to say it without tearing everything down.”
She blinks a couple of times as though she’s trying to process everything I just dumped on her, in the middle of a bookstore, no less.
“Uh,” she says.
Yeah. That’s fair.