7. Taylor
CHAPTER 7
Taylor
“ D o you feel like you’re ready to start dating again?”
“Yes. No. Maybe?” I scrunch my nose at Becca’s question, still unsure what exactly is going on in my head. “Ugh, sorry, I don’t know.” I push the remainder of my omelet around on my plate before dropping my fork.
“There’s no right or wrong answer, babe. It’s completely up to when you feel ready.” She wipes her mouth, lifting her cup of coffee to finish it.
“I know. I think that’s the problem, though. I can’t seem to make up my mind. One second I think I am ready, and then I go to download a dating app and it’s like the floodgates open up again.”
“Are you still in love with him?” I offer a one-shoulder shrug, avoiding eye contact. “It’s okay if you are, you know?”
Sheepishly, I lift my gaze. “Maybe. But I don’t think it’s love; that’s what’s frustrating about it. I don’t sit around missing him or have to talk myself out of texting him or anything like that anymore.”
“Maybe regret?”
I sigh, nodding my head slightly. “I think so. Which is… hard.” I fiddle mindlessly with the napkin in my lap. “Nobody ever talks about how hard it is to mourn a life you thought you’d have. Letting go of the images in your head of you and this person living in a house with your kids, raising them together, having a family…”
“Hey.” She reaches one hand across the table toward me and I slip mine into hers. “You know you’re young, beautiful, accomplished, and have plenty of time to find that again. It’s not like we get one shot and if we don’t nail it that first time that’s it.”
“I know.” I squeeze her hand before releasing it. “I just hate myself for giving him so much of me—my time, youth… love.” I roll my eyes, hoping to stop any stray tears before they fall. “Anyway.” I clear my throat. “Enough about all that. Have you guys picked a date yet for the wedding?”
“Not yet. We gave ourselves a deadline of picking a date by the end of this month.”
I glance down at my phone. “That’s less than two weeks. When are you thinking?”
“That’s the issue.” She rolls her eyes. “I want a fall wedding, outdoors with crisp autumn leaves and beautiful golden yellows and oranges. But Hector wants a summer wedding. I’ve tried explaining to him how hot it will be, especially for me in a wedding dress, but he insists we’ll do it early enough in the summer before the heat sets in. He just doesn’t get it.”
“Make him wear a full face of makeup in a floor-length gown outside for fifteen minutes; that should solve the problem.” I offer her a silly grin with my just as silly suggestion.
“I wish. Odds are I’ll get my way; he’s just making it way more difficult than it needs to be. But at the same time, I love how involved he is in planning the wedding. He isn’t one of those guys who just says, tell me when and where to show up, ha, ha, ha.” She uses her best mocking tone and it makes me laugh.
“Men,” I say, shaking my head. “Whenever you guys do decide, just let me know so I can make sure it’s marked in my calendar.”
“As my maid of honor, of course you’ll know the second we decide.”
“Oh, by the way,” I say before I forget as we stand up to walk out of the restaurant, “is Hector’s older brother still looking to leave his firm? I think it’s finally time I hire on a second attorney. The firm has grown into a monster that is taking over my life.”
“He is,” she replies, reaching into her purse to pull out her phone. “Let me send you his contact info. He’s going to be ecstatic to hear from you. He’s an amazing lawyer; he just wants something with a little more work-life balance now that he’s a single daddy.”
“Single? I thought he was married?”
“He was but sadly, she was cheating. It was so awful. He came home early and caught her in bed with their neighbor.”
I gasp, my hand shooting up to my chest. “Oh my God. Poor guy.”
“He’s doing okay. Things have settled down since the divorce was finalized, but I’m sure he would be thrilled to also have a new job so he can spend more time with his daughter.”
Becca and I walk the five blocks to her building where we both say goodbye and I continue on with my day, stopping at a few shops to pick up groceries and necessities for the week.
When I finally return home, I type out a quick text to Hector’s brother Miguel, letting him know about my firm and asking him to give me a call next week if it’s something he’d be interested in.
Then I toss my phone aside, turn on some music, and get to work starting to finally go through my things and figure out how I’m going to move on from this relationship. It’s been six months of wallowing and anger, and now it’s time for acceptance.
My second bedroom, that has also become an office, has several boxes packed with odds and ends, some of them mine, some of them Noah’s, I’m sure. I start going through them one by one, placing items into three piles—keep, donate, and Noah.
By the time I’ve made it through the final box, I’m spent. Emotionally and physically. Of course, I’ve been putting off going through the remnants of a five-year relationship, who wouldn’t? Nobody loves to relive memories with someone who was once their happily ever after and now is just a stranger.
I toss the final item in the Noah pile into a box, closing it up and pushing it into the far corner of the room. The thought of seeing him face-to-face to return the items sends my stomach down to my feet.
The worst part about a breakup, in my opinion, isn’t the actual ending of the relationship. I’ve been through that before. I know I’ll heal and move on and even find love again someday. It’s realizing just how little you actually mattered to them when they walk away for the last time.
No I miss you texts.
No fight to keep me.
Not even a goodbye.
That’s the part that still stings. That’s what’s still gnawing at my chest. That’s the part I haven’t told anyone because accepting the fact that this person you thought loved you walked out without so much as a tear after spending years with them is just too much sometimes.
I wipe away a few errant tears, reminding myself that this is a necessary part of the healing process as I place the other two piles of items into their own boxes. Tomorrow, I’ll drop off the donation items, and then, starting next week, it’s time I get serious about taking back control of my life, starting with interviewing Miguel.
“ W hat about Arthur Kentmore? Did he get onboarded?” Austin leans over me, one hand planted flat on my desk, the other pointing to my computer screen.
“Yes, last week actually. I sent you the report.”
“And the Thompson sisters?”
“Is there a reason you think I can’t do my job all of a sudden?” I turn my head to look up at him, his exposed forearm so close I brush against it.
“No.” He smiles at me, not moving from his position. “Just being thorough.”
“Like I said,” I say the words slowly with a smirk, “they’re in the report I sent to you last week. The same report I send to you every week with a list of any new clients and their onboarding status.”
“Hmm.” It’s a low, throaty rumble followed by that lazy smirk that does things to me. “Is someone having an attitude today?”
His eyes do that thing, dropping down to my lips slowly as he drags his teeth over his bottom lip. It’s the same thing he did the night I went over to his house for the first time.
Holy fuck.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara.
Is he—flirting with me?
“Don’t I always have an attitude?” I smile back, a warmth creeping up my cheeks.
“You make a valid point.” He pushes off my desk, standing upright before turning slightly and sitting on the very edge. “It’s probably something we should address. Don’t you think?”
I’m still in my chair, looking up at him. His arms flex as he folds them casually across his chest, my eyes instantly drawn to his exposed skin and the ripple of his muscles. I can feel the warmth of his body so close to my arm.
“No,” I say, my eyes finally meeting his.
“As your boss?—”
“My boss?” I laugh. “Since when did this go from a partnership to boss/employee?”
“Am I only your boss on the internet, then?”
I scrunch my nose in confusion. “What?”
“In the videos you posted of me, you called me your boss. So, why don’t we see if you’re a good employee and do what I say?”
Ah. He’s roleplaying.
That sizzle of excitement at the thought of him flirting with me dissolves into disappointment.
Bad idea anyway.
“How about we switch it up and you do what I say?” I reach for my phone and scoot back from my desk. “I think the ladies want some new content.” I smile, holding up my phone and snapping a photo of him.
“What the—” He holds his hand up in front of my phone to block the camera but I step around it.
“Come on,” I plead, “this is just a silly little outlet to take my mind off of the breakup. Humor me.”
He rolls his eyes. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“Just sit there,” I say, turning my attention back to my phone screen. “Act natural.” I snap a few photos, then switch over to video mode. I take a few steps away from him, his eyes following my movements as I work to get a few additional angles.
I watch him through the screen, his gaze burning into me. I zoom in slightly, my breath catching in my chest at the way he’s staring at me. I know it’s for the account; he’s being nice, giving me those bedroom eyes.
It’s not real.
“So, how are things going with the account?” he says once I’ve placed my phone down.
“Pretty insane actually.” I giggle. I had zero expectations anyone would even see the video I posted, let alone having it go viral within twenty-four hours of posting it.
“Can I see?”
I hesitate but then pick up my phone and open the app. I turn my phone around so he can see the account, but he reaches his hand out. He already knows about the account which I thought would be the most embarrassing thing if he found out. I was wrong. Having him read some of the comments these women have made about him was bad enough, but knowing I drank half a bottle of wine on Saturday night and responded to several myself is the real kicker.
He takes my phone, chuckling as he begins to click through the videos.
“It’s just something fun and silly; it’s just a fantasy for women out there,” I say nervously. “You know, something for the girls,” I reiterate, my cheeks growing redder by the moment.
“They’re making requests now?” His brow crooks.
“Like what?” I sidle up next to him, my shoulder brushing against his as I look at the screen and read the request out loud.
“How many likes to get an angle of him over the camera?” I look up at him. “Over the camera?” I take my phone and place it on the floor at my feet. “Like this?”
He laughs and bends down to grab it. “I don’t think that’s the angle she’s referring to.”
“Oh.”
“Sit in your chair.” He nods and I plop down in the chair. “Here.” He hands me the phone with the camera app open. “Now”—he spins my chair around so the back is against the desk—“hold the camera up at me.”
Again, I do as he says, angling the camera at my chest as he comes to stand in front of my chair. I look at the screen, this angle making him look like a giant. “I’m not sure she meant this angle either,” I say, pulling my gaze from my screen up to his face.
In a second, he’s leaning forward, placing his hands against the lip of my desk behind me. His knee presses between my own, pushing my skirt slightly up my thighs as I attempt to lean back in the chair, but I can’t.
“Now look,” he says softly, nodding down toward my phone.
My eyes slowly find my phone screen and a small gasp slips past my lips when I see what he looks like leaning over me. His eyes look dark, hungry, his hair falling slightly over his eye. The angle alludes to him being on top of me. I’m frozen, my thighs so close to pressing against his knee for even the slightest hint of relief.
He lets out a low laugh, pulling one hand away from the desk to drag it over his jawline. “I could be wrong, but that’s the angle she probably means.”
Girl, you’re so fucked. Snap out of it!
I quickly shut my mouth and shrug. “Yeah, could be,” I say with a casual air. “I can’t believe I thought she meant you standing over it.” I laugh nervously and turn the camera off. “Anyway, guess we’ll never know.”
“Why not?” He pushes away from me, taking a step back.
“Because,” I say without actually having a reason why. “It’s just silly. I’m over it now.”
“Really?” He slides his hands into his pockets. “Because a minute ago you told me it was your outlet to get over the breakup so you could convince me to take more videos.”
“Well, yeah, I just meant I’m not taking requests from people.”
“Why not? Scared you won’t be able to get the likes?” He bounces his eyebrows at me, knowing I hate backing down from a challenge.
“Fine,” I agree, “I’ll do it. But the video her comment is on has to get at least a million likes.”
“And how does a video get that many likes exactly? Is that normal?”
“I wouldn’t say normal.” I try to hide my smile, knowing he has no idea how social media actually works. “But right now, you’re only at just over three hundred thousand likes so maybe if someone famous comments you’ll get there or if they repost the video.”
“So you’re saying you don’t think it’s possible.”
I shrug. “Possible, yes. Probable, no.”
“Well now, I’m not one to back down from a challenge.” He flashes me a wink.
“Okay then.” I pick up my phone and open the video, typing out a response to the commenter.
One million likes and a famous person has to comment or reshare the video.
I add the part at the end without Austin’s knowledge, knowing damn well the likelihood this video will receive that many likes is so low it won’t even matter. And if it ever does, by then, we’ll both have completely forgotten about this entire silly thing.
“Done.”
A devilish grin slowly slides across his lips.
“When are you posting the video you took earlier?”
“I don’t know, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
“I think you should do it now.”
“And I think you should get out of my office so I can get back to work.” I glance at my watch. “Actually, Miguel, the lawyer I’m interviewing, should be here any minute so you really need to be on your way, please.”
He glances down at the floor as he pulls his hands from his pockets before taking two steps closer to me. He reaches his hand out, gently cupping my chin like he did before. “Be a good girl and do what your boss tells you.”
“A good girl?” I smirk, and his smile instantly fades.
“It wasn’t a request, Taylor.” His voice is stern, and my stomach coils tightly at the way his eyes are burning into mine. It’s intense and sexy and so damn confusing. I want to play along. I want to defy him, see how far he’ll let me push him before he breaks character, but I don’t. Instead, I reach for my phone, his hand still on my chin, keeping my gaze on him.
“Okay,” I say softly, his hand falling away as I swipe over to the app. I pull up the video, adding a caption before hitting submit. Then I look back up at him.
“There’s my good girl.” He lifts his hand out toward me again, this time gently swiping my bottom lip with his thumb. Then he steps away, breaking contact and walking toward my office door with a chuckle.
Since the second I met Austin, everything about him has exuded confidence and control. He’s charming and quick-witted, but he can just as easily command a room with his presence merely by walking through the door. Between his stature and magnetic personality, there’s never been a question about who’s in charge at this firm.
But something about the way he’s playing this little game with me has me… confused.
Is it a game? Is this just his way of entertaining my little fantasy world online or is this something that’s going to completely fuck up my world?