Chapter 36
ADAM
It was midday on a Tuesday, but instead of being at the office, AJ and I were home, the house so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
As far as the office was concerned, we were out at meetings, but the reality was that neither of us could stomach being there.
It had been four days since her promotion, and we’d had all of a few hours to celebrate it before I found myself coming home to find AJ sitting on my couch, looking at me calmly, but with wet eyes that indicated she hadn’t been so calm a few minutes prior.
“Tell me you never threatened to quit,” she said as I held her in my arms.
“Never,” I murmured, frowning deeply as I dried her tears.
I’d meant it too.
But it wasn’t till I confronted Engelman about his daughter the next day that he told me not to blame Kenzie.
“I didn’t know you were dating. But it came from your mouth, Maxwell. You said you’d leave if I didn’t reward her.”
My mind had spun and my heart had raced as I stood in that office, suddenly wracking my brain to recall my exact conversation with him.
It was the day after I’d taken AJ to Gizzy’s. The day after my mom saw us together for the first time, after five years of hearing all about her, and several years of chatting her up when she came in alone.
We signed Knox that day and I realized I loved her.
I’d had a casual conversation with Engelman about acknowledging AJ’s work with the company—about recognizing her talent “sooner rather than later, so you don’t lose both her and me.”
I had in fact said that.
I had meant it as a way of saying that if the company didn’t act fairly in promoting who was worthy, I’d have to rethink my position.
I had not intended my words as a threat or ultimatum, and AJ knew that. She assured me she did. She kissed me in the driveway when I got home that night, my car pulling in a minute behind hers. “I know that wasn’t your intention,” she told me.
But intention didn’t matter.
As much as we tried to hang our days on the fact that she had done the work to earn this promotion—that I hadn’t forced Engelman to award it—it was impossible to go on business as usual. Because the office was turning on her.
And for once, my having her back only made it look worse.
No one said anything outright, but AJ and I both knew the weight she once carried at the office.
She was the resident badass among the assistants within her first eight months of working for me. She dealt with me better than any previous hire, made me easier for everyone at Engelman to work with. She did her job, helped others and earned her respect.
But twelve days after her promotion, that respect was back to zero.
She powered through during the day, as did I. We didn’t acknowledge the dating rumors and spoke to each other as we normally would at the office.
Still, eyes followed us. Followed her. She overheard remarks. And on Monday, I overheard one too.
It came from Josh.
He was in one of the agent’s offices down the hall. I couldn’t see which one, but he was doing his usual thing and hanging around and talking shit.
But this time, it was louder than usual.
For everyone to hear.
“Hey, I’m all about using what you’ve got. I’m just mad I wasn’t the one who got to boss her around.”
I looked up to see the heads in The Pit staring into the office where Josh was.
Then turning to stare down the hall at her.
“Adam.”
AJ was pushing me back into my office before I knew what I was doing, and though I could feel her eyes burning on me, her nails practically digging into my chest, I glared down the hall, waiting to make eye contact with Josh.
And when he finally strolled out of the office and looked our way, his eyebrows waggled. “Whoa. Showtime,” he grinned as AJ hissed at me.
“Look at me, Adam.”
I held my fiery stare on Josh for two more seconds, hoping he understood my wordless promise to beat his ass into the ground. Then I tore my eyes off him and looked at her, expecting to see fury.
But instead, I saw her eyes pleading with me. And when I blinked once more, I realized I’d crossed the line. Forced her to put her hands on my chest at the office and stop me from kicking Josh’s ass on her behalf.
It had all happened in a matter of seconds, and on paper, I could very well be just a friend defending a friend. Even if this was months ago, I would’ve done the same.
But that wasn’t how it looked. And it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks, right? I remembered AJ’s words the night she told me about what happened to her in college. But you know how it is in this town. This industry. It shouldn’t matter.
But it does.
We had been quiet in the past few weeks at home. When we spoke, we spoke in quiet voices. Even when we managed to laugh or joke around, it was as if we didn’t have the energy to get past a certain volume.
Probably because we both knew what was going on.
There was an unspoken hunch going on between us, and it became inevitable after the Josh MacMillan incident at the office.
I was pissed at him. Engelman. Everyone. She was too.
And I knew she was a little pissed at me, though she said it was irrational.
“I know everything you did was with the best intentions,” she said, squeezing my hand as we lay in bed at night.
We still kissed. Still had sex. Still fell asleep in each other’s arms.
But on a random Friday night, I felt something different.
The way we’d felt a gradual shift in the air at Engelman over the course of the week following her promotion, I felt a shift in AJ.
It was just that it happened all in one day, and I was unsettled by the fact that she denied anything was different.
I knew she was lying to me. I felt it as we walked around each other in the house, as we made dinner and as I followed her into the shower that night.
The fog of the hot shower only thickened the tension as she glanced over her shoulder, saying nothing as she saw me peel my shirt over my head, push my sweats down and get in after her.
She faced forward again, staying silent even as my arm circled her waist, bending her over just enough for me to enter her.
There were no words spoken. It was only panting, angry breaths that grew hotter and harsher as I fucked her like I wasn’t going to get to again.
At night, she still slept in my arms, but I couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore.
Something was off, and if that weren’t obvious on its own, it was in the fact that we’d both been lying still for an hour, but neither one of us was asleep.
I knew she was staring out my window into the dark of the sky, and suddenly, I couldn’t take the quiet anymore.
“Talk to me,” I murmured.
She stayed completely still in my arms. But she talked.
“I reached out to Ace Sports in New York,” she said.
I didn’t try swallowing the knot in my throat.
I didn’t try to ask if they’d replied either. If she had interviewed. If they had offered and if she’d accepted. I already knew.
I almost asked why she didn’t go with Thorn Sports. With Iain.
But I didn’t, because I knew.
She didn’t want it to look like her boyfriend’s best friend took her in. She knew she’d have earned a job there on merit alone--that Iain would have hired her in a heartbeat based purely on skill.
But that wouldn’t be how it looked.
Stay, I urged her in my head. Stay or let me come.
I wanted to tell her that I’d go work at Thorn while she worked at Ace.
But I knew she didn’t suggest this because it was obvious what would happen if I moved to New York.
It was already Iain’s town. If I went to work alongside him at Thorn, we would be kings in Manhattan.
The spotlight would shine constantly on us.
AJ would work in my shadow. And she already said it herself.
She needed to distinguish her career from mine.
I knew she’d worked hard for it. Busted her ass for it before she ever even met me. I knew she wanted to give herself a chance to stand on her own, and as much as I wanted to ask her not to—to stand beside me instead—I couldn’t do that to her.
I loved her entirely too much for that.
So with that knot in my throat, I kissed her shoulder, and I pretended I didn’t ask what I just did, or hear what she just said. I closed my eyes and as I felt her nestle back against my chest, I pretended that this night was like any other. I treasured it somewhere deep in my heart.
But I didn’t tuck the memory safely away in my head.
This one I wanted to let go of.