Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
I adore the UT Austin campus. In particular, Whitis Court. Knobby, ancient trees that stretch out overhead and blanket the space in dappled shade. A constantly overstuffed bike rack, concrete picnic tables, old grills. The whole thing is enclosed by buildings I used to frequent. Six years out of college and I still find excuses to visit once a month.
I swear the chain restaurants around campus taste better, too. When I need to decompress, I’ll go by the nearest sandwich shop and bring my lunch here, unrolling the blanket I keep in my car to have a picnic at my old stomping grounds.
I like people-watching the students—especially the freshmen. I wish I could bottle the looks on their faces, figure out how to feel their peace. Walking to class, gazing into the eyes of their crush, lounging in the grass reading a textbook. Since it’s summer, campus is mostly deserted right now, but still. This is how I keep that period of life in my pocket, how I uncork the peaceful memories when I’m feeling some type of way.
“The problem,” my mother says, the sound of her chipper voice wrapping around my heart through my AirPods, across three states and eight hundred and fifty miles, “is that Mindy Meyer is already bringing red velvet cookies . So, I can’t exactly bring my red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese swirl.”
“Fuck Mindy Meyer,” I tell her, my hands wrapping around the sandwich in my lap. I’m sitting cross-legged, my picnic adjacent to the dorm I lived in almost ten years ago when I first moved to Austin. The dorm where I got to know Camila. “Your red velvet cupcakes are orgasmic.”
“Darling, I don’t care to know what inanimate objects give you an orgasm.”
“I’ve never even heard of a red velvet cookie.”
“Right?” Mom screeches. “It’s diabolically brilliant!”
“What’s the occasion?” I ask before taking another bite of my lunch.
“Oh, her daughter Ellen is getting married. We’ve been gently asked to throw her an engagement shower. Which reminds me. As far away as you are from receiving a proposal, I hope you don’t mind I put a large chunk of your wedding fund into the stock market.”
“Mom, what ?”
“But all’s well that ends well, because I doubled it just yesterday.”
I smirk and shake my head, standing up and grabbing the blanket. “Does Dad know?”
A pause. “He does now. ”
My mother, God love her, has never worked a traditional job a day in her life. When I was fifteen, she used to call me in the middle of the school day and ask if I needed anything. Tampon, brownies for chemistry class, fresh underwear?
There were years—many years, after Robbie went to college and I got my driver’s license alongside my independence—when Mom fell into a depression born from the absence of being needed. But now she has hobbies, and one of them is the stock market.
“And look, we both know I adore your sister-in-law. But I don’t think her parents put more than fifty thousand into that wedding, and I just want more for you—”
“I’m getting married at Lake Como,” I announce, walking back to my car.
“You’re very funny, darling, but Grandma Jean cannot travel to Italy at her age.”
“Grandma Jean is not invited.”
“JoJo.”
“Mother.”
I reach my car and unlock it, eyeing the boxes of samples in the backseat. My mind is at work again, reviewing everything I need to accomplish this afternoon.
“I gotta go, Mom.”
“Fine, but one more thing. Would you mind raising the price of your purses online? I’m interested in gifting one to Georgie Halstead, but I just know she’s going to look up how much I spent, and frankly, it won’t be enough.”
“No. Try Chloé.”
“This is what I get for supporting your endeavors!”
“Give Dad kisses for me.”
“Wait!”
I roll my eyes, strapping in. “Yes?”
There’s a pause as I pull back onto Guadalupe Street. “You okay, JoJo?”
I grip the steering wheel. “Fine. Just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all.”
She sighs. “I’m going to squeeze you extra tight when you’re in Nashville for Camila’s bachelorette.”
“That’ll be a busy weekend,” I say.
“You’ll make the time for your parents.”
I smile softly. “I will.”
We hang up, and I pull my AirPods out of my ears. What is it about talking to my mother that’s a simultaneous choke hold and a breath of fresh air? I overcorrected so hard trying to differentiate myself from her that I wound up the CEO of my own fashion brand. But in carefully measured doses, I adore her, and in some ways, Harriet Davis is my idol.
Back in the office, I head straight for the boardroom. The Carlisle guys have vanished at this point, but Will is still there with Derrick, their heads bent low over paperwork with our company lawyer, Ilya.
“Sorry about that,” I say, like I was gone for three minutes rather than fifty-seven.
Will stands again. His eyes rove over me. “Hey,” he says, his voice oddly warm.
“Hi.”
Derrick stands, too. “We’ve ironed out the details, Josie. You picked an impressive young man as a business partner. I wasn’t sure about the impulsivity of this, but Mr. Grant has sold me already.”
Will’s face reveals nothing, but he rubs his neck, uncomfortable with the compliment—his tell. I remember it from before. He’d always rub his neck around me.
“Great!” I chime in, my voice shrill. Somehow, I knew Will would win over Derrick without breaking a sweat. “And the contracts?”
“All taken care of,” Ilya confirms, stacking his documents.
“We’ll let you two talk.” Derrick and Ilya head for the door. Derrick calls over his shoulder, “Maybe the three of us could get dinner one night this week before I head back to California.”
“Anytime,” Will says. He fiddles with the collar of his—my—Revenant’s—shirt while his eyes track the others leaving the room. Only once the door closes behind them does he whip his head back and settle his full attention on me.
I let my focus linger over the shape of his shoulders beneath that crisp white shirt, the way his smooth wrists peek out from each cuff. The thicker material of the fabric glides over the planes of his chest and stomach, and when Will slips his hands into his pockets, I track that, too.
“You’re wearing it well,” I say. “How is the feel?”
“It feels… good,” he finishes, looking down at himself.
I tamp down the urge to be more gracious with him after that compliment. I’m still sort of heartbroken over what he admitted—Will initially thinking our proximity was not a good idea —but these days, my personal feelings fall to the wayside when it comes to my business. I’ll have to inspect them later. When I’m lying in bed and sleep won’t come.
“Will, I need you to explain yourself. From the beginning.”
His lips push into a flat line. “Like I said this morning, my clients are start-ups. I was in the meeting when we got word you were looking for a consultant.”
My brain sighs, long and deep. “You told them you’d known me in high school.”
He nods, his blue eyes glass-like. His expression is tortured, hesitant. “I implied to my boss that there were unrelated circumstances that might make it hard for us to work together.”
Will clears his throat. Sighs. “But the truth is I had a feeling we could work together perfectly amicably. I just selfishly didn’t want to see you.”
It stings like hydrogen peroxide on a fresh cut.
Sure, I never wanted to see Will Grant again either, but I can’t imagine a scenario in which I would have impacted his career to avoid it. I wouldn’t even be this frustrated if Will had offered up an alternative solution a few months ago. But instead, he’d left me to go seek out a competitor he obviously thinks the worst of.
“If that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn’t,” I say.
Will rubs his forehead. “This isn’t coming out right.”
“You think ?”
“Look,” he says, running his fingers through his wavy hair before he shoves his hand back in his pocket. His voice is deep but gentle. “I was wrong. It was selfish and unfair of me. It was a moment of extreme weakness. The truth is, I was nervous. The idea of seeing you again made me really fucking nervous.”
“Why? Because the two of us working together would’ve pissed off Zoe?”
“No.” Will shakes his head, eyes earnest. “It had nothing to do with Zoe. I felt nervous to see you because I’ve never been proud of the way I left things with you.”
I bristle just as he winces. “Let’s not talk about it,” I say.
“Fine,” Will murmurs. “But for the record, there are things I regret.”
“Well, same, obviously,” I nearly spit.
Will groans. “No, Josie, not that, I regret what happened after —”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” I shriek.
Our bodies are less than a foot apart. I take a step back, chest heaving. “You and I were never more than acquaintances who made one mutual error and learned from it. Now and forevermore, we’ll only have a business relationship. I can move on from the personal stuff if you can, too. I can forgive you for wanting to avoid me if you promise to help me get B Corp Certified.”
“I promise,” Will says, “to help you get B Corp Certified.”
“Then it’s settled,” I say.
“Wait. I have one more groveling explanation to give you.”
Despite myself, I smirk. “Go on.”
Will clears his throat, gesturing at the room. “I’m not normally like this. I know how presumptuous all of it was. How rude of me to show up like that, just as you were about to start your presentation. I swear I would have avoided it if I’d felt like there was another option I could have figured out in time. I also want you to know I’m not in the habit of asking anyone to take unfounded chances on me. So, if you want a referral from another client, I’m happy to provide one. And lastly, I didn’t come here to goad Kyle, despite what he said. I swear to you.”
I absorb his speech, feeling simultaneously impressed and relieved.
“You used to work at Carlisle?” I ask.
Will nods. “I left that job for this one.”
I nod and say, “Okay. What will it be like?”
Will stares. “Hmm?”
“Between you and me.” I gesture between us. “You said you’re not normally like this, but I want to know what to expect. What will it be like?”
His eyes hold mine. “You’re in charge of everything. I’m only here to support your endgame. That’s what it will be like between you and me. You telling me what to do, and me doing it. You telling me where to go, and me going.”
My face flushes at the notion, but I say, “Good. That’s good.”
“Anything else?” he asks, blinking twice, eyelashes thick and long and dark.
“How long will you be in town for?”
“I can cancel my flight home and stay all week. I still have to fix your car, after all.”
I nod. “And yes, for the record, I would like a client referral.”
“No problem. Just one more thing.” Will takes another step forward, and my head tilts back to keep hold of his eyes. “I’m really big on communication.”
“Me, too,” I say. “Constant communication.”
“It eliminates misunderstandings and helps us get to the point.”
“Agreed,” I breathe.
“Great.” His eyes flash to my neck and move up again. “In that case, let me get your phone number.”