Chapter Five #2
Aaron’s jaw shifted slightly.
“But you heard it anyway.”
The ballroom seemed too still.
Meagan adjusted a place card that did not require adjustment.
“Celeste is different from me.”
“I assume most people are.”
“She travels constantly. She does things without planning them. She is the type of person who flies to Italy because she found cheap tickets on a Tuesday.”
“That sounds stressful.”
Meagan almost smiled. “Amanda said the same thing.”
“Amanda is occasionally wise.”
“Do not tell her that.”
“I value my safety.”
Aaron stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
Enough that she could see the gold near his pupils again.
“You know what I noticed in that photograph?” he asked.
Her pulse shifted.
“The volleyball photograph?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t notice whether you looked spontaneous.”
Meagan looked at him.
“You looked happy.”
The words landed quietly.
No comparison.
No reassurance that she was more attractive than Celeste or more interesting than Daniel had understood.
Aaron had noticed happiness.
The thing Meagan had not known she was missing until she saw it on her own face.
“It was one moment.”
“It still counts.”
The familiar answer warmed her chest.
Before she could respond, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
A man’s voice said, “The sponsor signs need to be delivered directly to the terrace. Hawthorne and Lowe approved the revised placement.”
Meagan froze.
She knew the polished rhythm.
The careful emphasis he used when giving instructions.
Daniel entered the ballroom carrying a phone and followed by a venue employee.
He wore charcoal trousers and a navy jacket over an open-collar white shirt. His dark hair was neatly cut. His posture was confident.
He stopped when he saw her.
Surprise moved across his face.
Then pleasure.
Real pleasure.
That somehow made the moment worse.
“Meagan!”
She straightened automatically. “Daniel.”
He crossed the room and leaned in for a brief hug.
Meagan accepted it because refusing would have made the greeting significant.
Daniel smelled like expensive cologne and the peppermint gum he always chewed before presentations.
The familiarity unsettled her.
He stepped back and looked at her.
“You look exactly the same.”
The words were intended kindly.
Meagan felt them land anyway.
Exactly the same.
Still dependable. Still predictable. Still the woman he had left after deciding he wanted something more.
“You look well,” she said.
“I am. Work has been busy.” His gaze shifted toward Aaron. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Aaron Morris,” Aaron said.
Daniel shook his hand. “Daniel Mercer.”
“Aaron works for the foundation,” Meagan explained.
Daniel nodded. “Community partnerships?”
“That’s me.”
“I think we’ve been copied on a few emails.”
“We have.”
Aaron moved beside Meagan.
Close enough that his arm brushed hers.
The contact grounded her more effectively than it should have.
Daniel noticed.
His gaze dropped briefly to the narrow space between them.
“Are you helping with the gala?” he asked Meagan.
“Apparently.”
“That sounds like you.” He smiled. “You always end up fixing whatever everyone else forgot.”
There was affection in the comment.
That was the problem.
Daniel had always admired her usefulness.
She had once mistaken that for being fully known.
“I’m only checking the rental delivery.”
“And the seating chart,” Aaron added.
Meagan glanced at him.
Daniel laughed. “Of course you are. I don’t think Meagan has ever attended an event without working at it.”
The venue employee excused herself and left.
Daniel barely noticed.
“You’re still in New York?” he asked.
“For the moment.”
His eyebrows lifted. “For the moment?”
“I extended my stay here.”
“I heard.”
Meagan’s posture stiffened. “From whom?”
“Lauren mentioned your team was covering your accounts remotely.”
Lauren worked in executive operations at Meagan’s company.
She also spoke to Daniel’s office frequently.
“It is temporary.”
“Of course.”
The confidence in the answer bothered her.
Daniel glanced toward Aaron before returning his attention to her.
“Actually, the timing is interesting. I was planning to call you.”
“About what?”
“Hawthorne and Lowe is expanding the sports-partnership division.”
Meagan waited.
Daniel slipped his phone into his pocket.
“We need someone to oversee client operations for the new accounts. Brand transitions, activation schedules, sponsor relationships. Essentially what you already do, but at the director level.”
The ballroom seemed to tilt slightly.
“A director position?”
“We have not posted it yet.”
Aaron became very still beside her.
Daniel continued.
“I mentioned your name to Martin after the quarterly meeting. He knows your work from the Mercer Health transition and the Carson campaign.”
“You discussed me with your managing director?”
“I recommended you.”
The words should have felt validating.
A director role.
More authority.
More money.
A visible step forward after years of being the person who made senior leaders look prepared.
“When?” she asked.
“Last week.”
Before he knew whether she was still in California.
Before seeing her here.
Daniel smiled. “You are exactly what the division needs.”
Exactly.
The word repeated.
Meagan looked toward Table Four.
The place cards remained neat and unmoved.
“What would the timing be?”
“Quick. Martin wants someone identified before the next quarter. If you’re interested, we could arrange an informal meeting while I’m here and then finalize things when we return to New York.”
When we return. As though her return were already decided.
Aaron said nothing.
Meagan felt his silence more than she would have felt an interruption.
Daniel’s gaze moved between them again.
“Are you two working on the gala together?”
“Yes,” Aaron said.
Daniel looked at him. “Only the gala?”
The question sounded casual.
It was not.
Meagan’s pulse moved.
Aaron did not answer for her.
He waited.
The choice rested with her.
“We’re attending together,” Meagan said.
Daniel’s eyebrows rose.
“The gala?”
“Yes.”
“As friends?”
The word was polite.
Skeptical enough to sting.
Aaron’s hand settled at the small of Meagan’s back.
Exactly where they had practiced.
Warm. Steady. Believable.
“We recently started seeing each other,” Meagan said.
Rule two.
No elaborate backstory.
Technically intact.
Daniel’s expression shifted.
Not jealousy.
Something closer to confusion.
“I didn’t realize.”
“It’s new,” Meagan said.
“Very new,” Aaron agreed.
His thumb moved once against her back.
Meagan felt the motion through the thin fabric of her blouse.
Daniel smiled, but the expression took a fraction too long to form.
“I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
His attention moved to Aaron.
“You live here?”
“Yes.”
“And Meagan lives in New York.”
“I’m aware.”
Daniel glanced toward her. The conversation had changed.
She recognized the subtle professional curiosity beneath his polite tone.
He was calculating.
Distance.
Timing.
Whether the relationship was credible.
Whether it would interfere with the opportunity he had placed in front of her.
“I suppose this is one of those vacation things,” Daniel said.
Meagan went still.
Aaron’s hand remained at her back.
“One of what things?” she asked.
Daniel’s smile faltered slightly.
“I only meant the timing. You extended your trip, met someone, stayed longer than expected.”
“I met Aaron before I extended the trip.”
“Right.”
Daniel looked toward the ballroom windows.
“This is not a criticism. California has that effect on people.”
“What effect?”
“Making temporary decisions feel permanent.”
The words landed harder than he intended.
Meagan felt the old version of herself rise immediately.
Smooth it over. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Keep everyone comfortable.
Before she could speak, Aaron did.
“What makes you think she can’t tell the difference?”
His voice remained calm.
Daniel looked at him.
“I didn’t say she couldn’t.”
“You suggested she might be confusing a vacation with a life decision.”
“I know Meagan.”
Aaron’s hand shifted slightly at her back.
Not tightening.
A quiet reminder that she did not have to disappear from the conversation.
Meagan lifted her chin.
“You knew me,” she said.
Daniel’s gaze returned to her.
The distinction unsettled him.
“I did.”
“Then you know I do not make decisions casually.”
“No. You don’t.”
Something in his expression softened.
“That is partly why I’m surprised.”
“By Aaron?”
“By all of this.”
He gestured lightly toward the venue, the ocean beyond the windows, and perhaps the entire state of California.
“You missed a flight. You extended a vacation. You’re helping with an event that has nothing to do with your job. And now you’re dating someone who lives three thousand miles away.”
Daniel smiled as though he were sharing an affectionate observation.
“It doesn’t sound like you.”
The words found the vulnerable place beneath her ribs.
Exactly the same.
It doesn’t sound like you.
He had known the version of Meagan who scheduled an unscheduled afternoon and considered a bookstore spontaneous.
Maybe Daniel was right.
Maybe the woman in the volleyball photograph had existed only for the length of a game.
Maybe wanting Aaron belonged to the beach, the gala, and the week she had borrowed from her actual life.
Meagan’s hand tightened around the clipboard.
Aaron noticed.
He turned slightly toward her. Not enough to block Daniel. Enough to bring her back into focus.
“I think it sounds exactly like her,” he said.
Daniel looked at him.
Aaron’s expression remained easy.
His gaze did not.
“She saw people she cared about building lives here and stayed because she wanted to help.”
“That part sounds like Meagan,” Daniel said.
“She played volleyball yesterday even though she was convinced everyone else would be better.”
Meagan looked at him.
Aaron continued.
“She stayed for a second game because she was having fun. She ordered lemon pancakes because she wanted them. She missed a flight because some part of her wasn’t ready to leave.”
The last sentence settled through the room.
Meagan’s breath caught.
Aaron looked at her.