Chapter 3
TWO YEARS LATER
One more email . That’s all I had time for. I had to get this out, and then I had to be out the door. Otherwise, I’d be late, and my kids would be left disappointed.
Again.
Work had never been busier. The two promotions in as many years—clearly I could do this job, contrary to some opinions—left me with a whole team to supervise and not enough time to do it in.
The clock was moving too quickly when my phone rang. I should have let it go to voicemail to be dealt with on Monday, but my hand moved on muscle memory, bringing the receiver to my ear.
“Juliana Ryan. How may I help you?” I answered without looking at the caller ID, eyes scanning the email for typos before hitting SEND.
“I have a new position I want filled as soon as possible.”
Goose bumps spread across my body, and I wondered if the devil made everyone else’s stomach turn like this. But if he hadn’t managed to cow me in the past two years, I wasn’t letting him start now.
“See, I think words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ are so im portant. When my kids are disrespectful, I make them start over from the beginning. Let’s see how you do next time.” I hung up without giving him a chance to respond. My phone rang again in half a second.
“Juliana Ryan. How may I help you?”
“Did you just hang up on me?”
“Not what I was looking for. Try again.” Down went the receiver. With no one around to see, I let myself indulge in a giant, smug smile.
Ring-ring.
“Juliana Ryan. How may I help you?”
“Ms. Ryan, will you please help me by doing your job and posting this position?” Ben’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“That was a vast improvement, Mr. Thomas. But as I tell my seven- and nine-year-olds, tone matters, too. I always knew my experience with my kids was an asset instead of the liability you consider it, but I never imagined I would need to pull out their manners lessons in the office. Looking forward to your next attempt.”
I let out a small chuckle. This was a giant waste of time. The email in front of me should have already been sent, and I should be halfway to my car by now. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. Every interaction with this man put me on edge, making me act with a pettiness I had never experienced before. I couldn’t resist poking the beast, waiting on the edge of my seat to see how he would respond.
A few minutes of fun at his expense wouldn’t hurt.
I was surprised when my phone didn’t ring again. I prayed I hadn’t pushed him too far and sent him running to Christina. She found our little feud amusing, at least most days, but I don’t think even she would approve of such a waste of time and blatant antagonism.
“Really?” A voice came from the doorway and my eyes snapped up.
Ben leaned in the frame, hands braced on either side of the glass wall. The position pulled his button-down shirt tight across his impressive chest and biceps, the corded muscles in his forearms exposed from where he had rolled up his sleeves. He looked more like a model in a business-themed photo shoot than a man who had worked a full day in the office, and warmth from deep in my stomach seemed to radiate through me. I cursed my body for the way it responded to him, even if my brain recognized he was evil. I flipped my hair over my shoulder, using the movement as an excuse to try to shake off the annoying sensation.
“I’m impressed by how quickly your manners are improving. You’re right. It’s always better to apologize in person.”
“For asking you to do your job?”
I smiled angelically. “Would you mind taking your hands off the glass, please? Smudges make it less likely I’ll get the joy of seeing you walk into it one day.”
My mind did a little happy dance at the imagery. He’d be walking quickly through our office, probably determined to make an unrealistic request on my time. He’d be distracted and would slam face-first into my glass wall. With the atrium outside of my office, the loud crash would echo through the whole space. Everyone would rush out to witness his humiliation.
Ben pushed off the frame, walking over to my desk as I went back to scanning my email. A few seconds later, both of his hands came down on the surface as he leaned over my desk. I shot him an aggravated look.
“Do you enjoy torturing me, Juliana?” His voice was lower than usual, a smooth, seductive sound, whether he intended it that way or not.
A shiver ran through my body. “There’s no real fun when you make it so easy.”
His dark eyes flashed. “Is that what you want? A challenge?”
Everything about this man was a challenge already. I didn’t think I could handle much more. He had that smirk, the one he sent my way when he caught me looking a few seconds too long or when a comment that would have been innocent from another mouth made me flush. I hated that I responded to him this way. I hated that he knew it even more.
But I wasn’t the only one who looked more than they should, and since I’d seen as many clenched jaws as he’d seen blushes, I wasn’t going to stand down from this fight.
I stood from my seat, mirroring his position until our faces were a foot apart. His eyes flicked down to my lips, and I fought off another tremor.
“What I want,” I said quietly, staring into the deep pools of his eyes, “is for you to get out of my office so I can finish this email and get out of here.”
Ben chuckled, standing straight as he tugged on his shirt cuff. “Of course that’s what you want. I emailed you the job description. I want it posted tonight.”
“It’ll be posted Monday.” I turned back to my computer without giving him a second glance.
“I don’t have time to fight about this.”
“I forgot that Satan has those mixers for his top agents on Fridays. Can’t miss that, can you?”
“Hilarious,” he deadpanned, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re not the only one with stuff going on. I—”
“ I have zero interest in knowing how you spend your Friday nights.” Probably with a different woman, dinner and drinks before going back to his house to… Nope. Not going there. “You go do whatever it is you do, and your job will be posted on Monday.”
“If you hadn’t had your little fun and did it when I first asked—”
“Demanded, not asked.”
“—it would already be done. Post it tonight.”
“When did this job get approved?”
“Why does it matter?” His eyes flicked down to his watch. He was the one telling me to stay late, and now he was standing there acting like I was wasting his time?
“How long has this been in your inbox? It’s a simple-enough question.”
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, the first sign of weakness. “Wednesday evening.”
“You sat on this for two days because you had more important things to focus on. Then you try to drop it in my lap right before closing time. I am not staying late and leaving my girls waiting because you procrastinated. If you could wait two days to send it to me, you can wait two more days for it to be posted.”
Then I got exactly what I wanted; the flash of annoyance in his eyes that told me he knew I’d beaten him. As a gracious winner, I’d wait for him to leave before marking down this victory in my battle log. It may be childish, but I loved the running Word document of our fights on my computer. It let me know where we stood, and this win solidly put me in the lead in a competition he, admittedly, didn’t know existed. My victory entries included, in extreme detail, how I was so much better than him. My losses—which were more than I liked—included a full analysis of where I went wrong so it wouldn’t happen again. On bad days, reading my best wins was the easiest way to cheer myself up.
Like the time I “tripped” and dropped my plate, cake-side down, directly in the lap of his perfectly tailored slacks. Maybe next time he wouldn’t call the office birthday cake—the one I’d spent two whole hours on—dry in front of the other employees.
And if my body heated when he leaned in and whispered that he kept a spare outfit in his office since I was clearly so intent on ruining his clothes? Well, that didn’t need to go in the official log.
Ben’s nostrils flared, and I continued smiling serenely. If he thought he could intimidate me, he would be sorely disappointed.
“Well, this is a lovely surprise.” Christina interrupted our standoff from my door. “You two are in the same room and there isn’t any yelling.”
“Yet.” Ben spoke just loudly enough for my ears, before turning his most charming smile on Christina. There was a gleam in his eyes, like Christina’s arrival could salvage a win for him.
“We were talking about a new position on my team I’m looking to fill. Your department has always been so helpful, and I’m hoping to get it up so people can apply over the weekend.”
Christina threw a quick glance over his shoulder at me, and I subtly shook my head. “I’m sorry, Ben. I was actually stopping in to see if Juliana wanted to walk out with me. I’m sure she’ll make it a top priority on Monday, right?”
I smiled smugly at Ben. God, I loved beating him. “Of course, I will. Christina, I need to finish something up. It should only take a minute, but you head out.”
Ben rubbed his hand over his mouth, and I thought I caught the trace of a smile. A quirk of his eyebrow said until next time before he turned to Christina. “I’m done for today, so I’d happily walk out with you.” Ben motioned for her to lead the way.
He was leaving. Heading out to enjoy his weekend of kicking puppies and stealing candy from babies—probably—but expected me to keep working to make up for his negligence. “Leaving already but asking me to stay late? Now whose work ethic is in question?”
He crossed his arms and squared his body back toward me. “Yeah, some people choose to leave when they’ve finished their work for the day.”
I was gearing up my retort to throw in his condescending face when Christina jumped in. “With that charming exchange, I’m leaving and will see you on Monday.”
I rushed through a final read of the email I had been drafting when I was so rudely interrupted. I grabbed my bag and hurried down the hall just in time to catch the elevator with Christina and Ben.
“Hold the elevator!”
Ben smirked as he reached for the buttons, the doors starting to close a half second later.
“Oops,” he said as the doors slid shut. “Hit the wrong button. Must have been distracted by the fact that you didn’t say ‘please.’”
Horrible, insufferable man.
I jabbed the button five times in quick succession, shaking out my poor, innocent finger and twirling toward the stairs. As I entered the stairwell, I kicked off the four-inch heels I’d taken to wearing at work, swooping them up as I took off down the four flights. My calves started to burn as I turned the last corner, the door to the parking garage in sight.
I stopped just long enough to slide back on the stilts-I-called-shoes before bolting across the space. Ben’s figure caught my eye as he rushed to his own car. He smirked as he slid behind the wheel, giving me a salute as he drove past.
My fingers tingled from the urge to flip him off, and I refocused their energy on yanking open the door of my van.
I flew through the streets of Orlando. Every curse word I’d ever learned echoed through my kid-free car as I hit light after light. I turned on GPS, not because I needed it—I could drive this path with my eyes closed—but as my own unique form of torture. The arrival time ticked in the wrong direction with each light and small traffic jam, and the curse words got even more creative.
I pulled in front of the girls’ school in the fading light, two little bodies leaning against the side of the building while the lone teacher representative watched for my car. She smiled tightly as I pulled up.
Wolf Creek Elementary was filled with caring, supportive employees. The first time I was late, they fretted over me.
You’re doing so much! This is such a huge transition! Be kind to yourself!
Two years and close to a hundred late pickups later, their patience had run out. I could see the frustration in the teacher’s eyes, the way she rushed the girls off the sidewalk and into my car with barely a glance in my direction. I got it. She had things to do, probably a family of her own to get to.
The sting of shame shot through me like it did every time. I had been a darling of the school before Jason died. Room mom, active member of the PTA, friends with everyone on campus as I poured all my type-A energy into my kids’ lives. Now that energy was tapped out at the office, and I was the school inconvenience.
Sophie popped into the car, jabbering on about her day like usual but sending worried glances at her sister. Clara threw her backpack down with a bit too much force. My greeting was returned with a huff and a shrug, and she turned to face the window with her jaw squeezed tight.
“Clara, sweetie, what’s wrong?” I asked after five minutes in the car without a word from her.
“Nothing,” she snapped. “I’m fine.”
I was intimately aware of that fine. I invented that fine. It made me wish I could go back and apologize to Jason for every passive-aggressive moment in our relationship.
“Something is obviously wrong, Clara. What is it?”
Silence reigned in the car while we waited each other out. Even Sophie kept quiet for once. Clara’s foot tapped against the back of my seat, making the whole thing rhythmically jerk.
Finally, she broke. “You’re late.”
“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. I got caught up with something at work.” That something may have been a giant, distracting asshole, but she didn’t need to know that.
“You promised you’d be on time today. For the ice cream party?”
Fuck.
The season kickoff celebration for her soccer club. The team moms came together to host a party at one of their houses every year. It was the sort of activity I planned before Jason died. And just like these moms, I would have cluelessly planned it for after school, the needs of working parents not even on my radar.
I couldn’t take off work, but I told Clara we’d be able to make it for the end if we headed there right from pickup. I had Post-it notes all over my office to remind me. It was the whole reason I was determined to leave after that email before Ben called.
I wanted to blame this on him, on his unreasonable last-minute request and his ability to make my mind scatter in rage. But this was all on me. Because apparently the last almost-three years as a single parent weren’t enough for me to understand that I didn’t get the luxury of things for myself, even when that thing was nothing more than screwing with my office nemesis for a bit of fun.
“Honey, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. Let’s head there now.”
“It’s probably over now,” she grumbled, continuing to glare at the suburban homes out the window.
“I’m sure it’s not,” I said, trying to keep my tone positive. “We can make this work. I’ll just pull over here and plug the address into my phone. I just need to find the email, but I’m sure it’s not far from here. We’ll get there and you’ll have time—”
“Mom,” she screamed. “Just stop. It’s too late, and I don’t want to be the weird girl who shows up when everyone’s leaving.”
Her tears reflected in the rearview mirror were a punch to the gut, a vivid reminder of how much my life had changed and how often I fell short of what they needed.
I turned the car in to one of the cookie-cutter neighbor hoods between school and our house, throwing the car in park and turning around in my seat to face her. Clara’s bottom lip was trembling, a clear sign that she thought she was in trouble for yelling at me. But she wasn’t the one who needed to issue an apology.
I reached over my seat for her hand. “I am so sorry, Clara. It was a mistake. I’m trying, but I’m not perfect. And I promise I’ll try harder.”
The flash of guilt that crossed her face hurt more than anything that came before. My sweet, overachieving firstborn who took on too much responsibility for our pain. She gave me a watery smile. “I know, Mom. It’s okay. Don’t be upset.”
“What about me?” Sophie shrieked from the other side of the car, all righteous indignation. “I wanted to go, too!”
Sophie was never one to be left out of the conversation for long. Clara and I shared a small smile before I turned to Sophie. “You’re right. I am sorry to you, too.”
She harrumph ed, then lifted her chin. “You’re forgiven.”
I laughed as I buckled myself in, throwing the car back into drive. “How about a double feature? You can each pick a movie, and we’ll have pizza on the couch while we watch them.”
I could hear my seriously stained couch begging me not to let pizza sauce anywhere near it, but the smiles that split the girls’ faces were worth a million pieces of ruined IKEA furniture.
And from here on out, I’d keep my attention where it needed to be. On my girls.
I’d sent Asia an SOS text when I got home, bartering free wine for a sympathetic ear to listen to my crappy day, after the girls were asleep.
She’d become one of my best friends over the past two years. Before Jason died, I had a large group of friends who were all stay-at-home moms, too. They supported and loved me through every stage of the grieving process, but things changed when I went back to work.
I didn’t blame them, but we’d naturally drifted apart over the past two years. We still texted now and then, but our schedules didn’t line up. They were getting together for a cup of coffee after school drop-off, and I was pushing Clara and Sophie out of the car at a rolling stop to get to work on time.
Asia fit all our socializing around my kids’ schedules, drinks on my couch while the girls finished their homework, chatting at my kid’s games and recitals, gossiping over lunch in the break room. She understood how packed my schedule was, and every time I felt guilty about how much she accommodated us, she responded the same way: “Let me use my perpetually single status for something positive. I have flexibility you don’t.”
After a hard day like today, having her here made all the difference.
Asia popped the cork out of a bottle of wine as she walked over to the couch. “Your parents are still good to babysit tomorrow night?”
“Of course. We’re all set for your birthday extravaganza.” A few friends in my backyard probably wouldn’t qualify for the term, but I was going for enthusiasm. “The girls are sleeping at my parents’ place so we don’t have to worry about them waking up and interrupting us. My friend dropped off the projector screen. We’ve got more bottles of wine than people, comfy chairs, blankets for out back, and What’s Love Got to Do With It? rented and ready to go. Is it still just us and Dani?”
Asia’s younger sister had become one of my close friends, too. They had such a beautiful friendship, and I could only hope one day my girls would have a similar relationship.
Asia chewed on her lip. “About tomorrow…”
I sat in the silence, waiting for whatever shoe Asia was about to drop.
“Here’s the thing,” she went on. “I know I said I wanted a girls’ night here, and you did so much and got a whole setup and my favorite movie, but Dani brought up how I’ve been so busy with work and my side gig that I haven’t gotten to dance for myself in a while. And I hate making you cancel the stuff you worked on to do something you hate instead, but it did sound like fun.” She ended with a half smile, half grimace.
I groaned through my laughter. “I don’t hate dancing. I hate dancing with Dani.”
The first and last time I danced in front of Danielle Taylor was in my living room when, for “fun,” Asia led us in one of the workout dance routines she taught on the weekends. Dani had spent the whole hour cackling over my lack of rhythm. I was equal parts embarrassed and exhausted by the end. The workout was a success, even if my dancing wasn’t.
“If you can get Dani to keep her comments to herself, I’m in,” I said with a laugh.
“Are you sure?” Asia asked, that abused lip back between her teeth.
“Of course.”
“Okay, good. I’ve set up a reservation at this amazing restaurant downtown, and then we’ll head to the club!”
I chose not to point out how quickly those plans seemed to come together when she was just asking if I was okay with the change.
“Since we’re going out, I opened it up. We’ll have a handful of friends from my college years whom you haven’t met yet. Plus my team from KMG.”
I did laugh then, since this plan was clearly so far past its conception it might as well have been a teenager.
Asia scrunched up her face and gave a remorseful shrug before plowing on. “And my cousin Zac will be there.”
“Oh, the hot one?”
She rolled her eyes at that. “Yes, the hot one, but you know he’s not the brightest.”
“I didn’t say I was going to marry him, but it’s good to know I’ll have a nice view.”
“He won’t be the only nice one to look at.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me.
My smile fell right along with my stomach. I leaned back on the couch, arms crossed and face set in a scowl. “Asia.”
Asia laughed, and I groaned.
“Why the hell would you invite Ben?”
“Interesting that you jumped straight from ‘nice one to look at’ to Ben. Just saying,” she said with a cheeky smile. “He’s coming because he’s one of my best friends, too, and I’ve told you both several times I’m not choosing between you. You can tolerate each other for one night for me, right?”
The only downside of my friendship with Asia was her mind-boggling friendship with Ben. I would never understand why this wonderful woman chose to waste her time on such a pompous ass. But she constantly showed up for me, so I’d find a way to make it through one evening without biting his head off. Probably.
“Dinner, dancing, and my mortal enemy,” I replied, lifting my glass in salute. “What a perfect night.”