Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
JACKSON
As I glance at the #NULL! error I’m seeing for the third time on my Excel spreadsheet, I don’t think Excel likes me very much.
In addition to this Excel issue, there are seventy-two unread emails in my inbox and twenty other items on my to-do list for today.
It’s been two weeks since I started as CEO of Carter Marketing Solutions, and most days, I feel like I’m just floating through endless documents and meetings.
Don’t get me wrong; everyone has been welcoming, and the creative and problem-solving aspects of marketing are enjoyable, but it still feels like something’s missing.
I dismiss the thoughts. The CEO title comes with great responsibility, and I don’t want to let my team down. Plus, it’s still early days, and I’m sure I’ll find my groove and come to love my job with more time.
I try a few other keyboard shortcuts to fix my spreadsheet, but none of them work. My screen glances back mockingly at me. Letting out a sigh, I decide to abandon Excel and move on to the next task on my list.
Lunchtime arrives, and I’m eating a sandwich at my desk when there’s a knock on my office door.
“Come in,” I call out, knowing who I’m expecting.
The door opens, and Anna skips inside with a card in her hand. My sister, Lucy, trails after her. I was told by Lucy over the phone that my niece, who turned nine recently, has a little surprise for me.
“Hi, Uncle Jace!”
The happiness and joy radiating off Anna’s face is so pure, and I think I definitely want kids one day. A girl, in particular.
“Hey, Anna. Hey, Luce.” I stand, giving my sister and niece a hug, then glance at Anna’s card with a grin. “Is that a card for me?”
“No,” Anna replies.
Damn.
“Who’s it for then?” I ask.
“It’s a card with a drawing of Isabelle,” Anna explains, her eyes shimmering with delight as she passes me the card. She’s wearing the black polka-dot scrunchie we bought at Isabelle’s booth last week.
“Anna’s wanted to be a fashion designer since she was five,” Lucy adds as I open the card. “She’s been telling me that Isabelle’s her role model. I’ve never met Isabelle before, but she sounds like a lovely human.”
Wonderful. My niece has become a fan of Isabelle.
“Actually, I forgot. You’re in the drawing, too, Uncle Jace!” Anna exclaims. “Look, this is you.” She points to the stick figure with brown hair next to the sketch of Isabelle, which is more sophisticated than the drawing of me. Between us, there’s a large pink love heart in the air.
Hang on. Why did Anna draw me as a stick figure and not Isabelle?
I decide not to ask her that—I’m not sure I want to know the answer—and instead put on an encouraging smile.
“It’s beautiful, Anna. I know you’ll make an amazing fashion designer when you grow up,” I say and mean it. Genuinely.
“Since you and Isabelle are friends, will you help me give this to her?” she asks.
“Of course, Anna.”
What have I gotten myself into?
“Yay!” A wide grin plasters itself across her face. “You’re the best.”
Anything is worth it, seeing my niece smile like that. And when I promise something to anyone, I’ll deliver it, no matter how big or small.
Even if it means having to see Isabelle again.
“How does it feel to be back?” Lucy asks me as Anna starts giving herself a tour of my office. “I can’t believe it’s been eight years.”
Being suddenly sent to London for boarding school at sixteen, a city where I knew no one other than my aunt, wasn’t something I had expected. And moving schools, let alone countries, wasn’t easy.
Back then, I resented my parents—Dad, specifically—for sending me away.
While I understand they were going through a tough time with their marriage, I felt like I was simply being tossed to the side.
Dad’s reasoning that attending boarding school would be a good learning experience and good for my studies seemed like a floppy excuse.
Lucy had already moved out of our home by then, and Mom disagreed with Dad and tried to convince him against it, but it was no use.
In the end, the papers were signed, and the next thing I knew, I found myself on a long-haul flight to London.
I often wondered if there was something else my parents didn’t want me to know about—it was evident in the way they’d be fighting downstairs and then suddenly stop if I came down.
As a teenager, I wanted answers, but I was only left with more questions.
But none of that matters anymore. Dad’s no longer with us, and there’s no use in holding a grudge.
“It feels good to be back,” I say. “I loved London, and I loved the experience of living in another city, but I missed New York. I feel like I’m finally back home. And I missed everyone.”
Deep down, I always knew I’d come back.
“Anyone in particular?” Lucy teases.
I laugh. “Just you, Luce. And Anna, of course.”
Lucy and I catch up some more before she and Anna head off.
Anna gives me a wave as she walks out the door. “Bye, Uncle Jace!”
“See you, Anna,” I say, waving back. “Remember to get me a card next time, too.”
Anna pokes her tongue out at me. With a fuzzy feeling, I place her card on my desk and resume tackling my Excel spreadsheet, finally figuring it out this time.
Another thirty minutes pass, and I check my calendar, remembering Aaron—my best friend and one of Carter Marketing Solutions’ executive directors—is supposed to be here by now for our work meeting. Given punctuality isn’t exactly one of his strong suits, I send him a text to follow up.
The door swings open just as I hit Send.
“Working hard or hardly working?” Aaron smirks as he strolls inside, one hand in his pocket and the other clutching a paper bag. The crisp smell of burgers and fries infiltrates my office.
Like me, Aaron was born and bred in New York. We met on the first day of kindergarten and immediately became best buddies. Despite living in different cities for the past eight years, we still kept in frequent touch.
Aaron wanted a career change from his banking job, and he decided to pivot to marketing because, in his words, “Why not?” At least working with my best friend is something I’ve been enjoying.
“Someone’s early,” I sarcastically say.
“It’s not my fault the line at Burger Shack was massive,” Aaron protests. He sits in the chair in front of my desk and places his to-go boxes on the table, opening them up. “Blame Burger Shack, not me. You know I can’t think straight or do work on an empty stomach.”
I grab a fry, placing it inside my mouth. I’ve missed this.
“Hey!” Aaron cries, moving the box closer to his side of the table. “Don’t steal my food.”
“It’s not my fault the smell is tempting,” I say. “Blame Burger Shack, not me.”
“I know. I’m just kidding.” Aaron moves the box back to where it was originally placed and shoves two fries into his mouth. “Take as many as you want. Sharing is caring.”
“Thanks,” I say, reaching for another fry.
“So, did you see?” he prods.
“See what?”
Aaron rolls his eyes. “The post about the upcoming Summerhurst High reunion. I even tagged you in it. Don’t tell me you didn’t see it.”
I lean back in my seat. “Yeah, about that. I don’t know if I’m going.”
“What?” Aaron gasps, an unchewed fry falling from his mouth. “Why not?”
I state the obvious. “Well, I didn’t graduate from Summerhurst High.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aaron insists. “You still graduated with us in spirit. And besides, I already told people you’re coming, so you and your ass are gonna have to show up.”
I help myself to another fry. “I think me and my ass would rather stay at home.”
“Come on,” Aaron persists. “I’ll be there.”
“I already see you five days a week for work.”
“Fine,” Aaron scoffs, pretending to look offended. “Everyone on the speech and debate team and the football team will be there.”
I didn’t keep in touch with any of them when I moved to London. My performance suffered when my parents were going through their divorce, and I always felt like I let my team down.
Aaron takes my silence as a sign to keep talking, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “Maybe Isabelle will be there, too. You know, the girl you claimed to ‘hate.’” He makes air quotation marks with the word hate. “Don’t you want to see her again?”
I never told Aaron about my encounter with Isabelle on my flight, or that I ran into her again at The Daily Brew, or for a third time at the market. That proved to be a good call, judging by the shit-eating grin on his face now.
“The way you two went at each other and did that thing with your eyes was actually hilarious. You guys were the literal definition of a heated debate,” Aaron adds with a laugh. “Seriously, remember how people would bet on when one of you would either end up strangling or kissing the other?”
For the record, neither of those things ever happened.
Yeah, maybe Isabelle will be attending the reunion.
Maybe Oliver will show up, too.
Oliver Morrison. He and I never liked each other. We were both on the football team, and he didn’t like that I was the quarterback instead of him. More generally, there was something about him that ticked me off, although I couldn’t work out why exactly.
I almost forgot that Isabelle dated him.
Dated. Because I stalked Isabelle’s Instagram—for the first time in years—after she accidentally liked one of my photos, and I noticed she’d deleted all her photos with him.
I even went to check her following list and confirmed that she’s no longer following him.
You don’t need to be a detective to know this only means one thing.
Not that I care about her love life, of course. Although good luck to anyone who wants to date her and even more so to her future husband.
Frustratingly, my recent encounters with Isabelle have appeared in my mind at the most random times. At the gym a few days ago. In the elevator to work this morning. Even while I was making an omelet for breakfast yesterday.
Since I returned to New York, she’s been like a song stuck in my head on repeat.
“Hello?” Aaron impatiently waves a fry in my face.
“I’m listening.”
Aaron shoves the fry in his mouth. “Anyway, it’ll be fun. Good food and good company. What more could you want?”
“I’ll think about it,” I reply, knowing he probably won’t give up otherwise. “Can we get back to work now? We need to finalize the presentation for Greenstar before the meeting tomorrow.”
Aaron sighs. “Honestly, I don’t know what else there is to do. We’ve looked at it, like, five times already.”
“Well, it’s an important meeting, and I want our pitch to be the best,” I say, opening the slide deck on my computer screen.
As I wait for the file to load, I glance at Anna’s card again. I remember Isabelle’s passion for drawing back in school, so finding out she’s running her own fashion business wasn’t too surprising.
“Helloooo?” Aaron whines. “I thought you wanted to discuss the Greenstar presentation?”
I sigh, shifting my attention back to my computer.
I need to stop thinking about my old high school rival.