Chapter 3
OSCAR
I’ve always loved the view from my office – the skyscrapers, the clouds, the water sparkling during the day on Puget Sound, the ships glowing like fireflies at night.
It grounds me. Keeps me focused.
Except for tonight. Tonight, it feels like there’s nothing in all of existence that could center me.
"You haven't touched your kung pao chicken," Cole observes, breaking into my thoughts as he gestures toward the takeout containers with his chopsticks. "And that's your favorite."
“Yeah, I’m… focused.” I blink and turn my attention to the same paragraph of the acquisition agreement that I’ve been “focused” on for about thirty minutes.
I haven’t processed a single word of what’s in front of me, because for the life of me I can’t pay attention. Not tonight. Not after the day I had.
“What’s up?” Cole prods.
"Uh, work," I reply, picking up my chopsticks and making a half-hearted attempt at eating. “You know.”
He sets down his food and leans back in his chair. "Are you really thinking about work? Or about a certain brown-haired COO who looked like she wanted to push you out a window?"
I shoot him a look. "The company has potential. Their distribution channels alone could increase our market penetration by thirty percent in the Pacific Northwest."
"Uh-huh." Cole's skeptical tone makes it clear he's not buying my business-only focus. “You didn’t answer my question at all.”
“Why should I?” It’s not like me to be so snippy with him, and losing my temper makes me feel terrible about myself. “I’m sorry,” I sigh.
“It’s okay. You sure you don’t want to talk about it? You’ve mentioned Alice before, but I didn’t realize the two of you dated.”
The sound of her name sends an involuntary current through my body. Alice. Even after all these years, after everything that happened between us, the mere mention of her still has power over me.
“We didn’t,” I say. “We were just friends.”
He whistles. “That must have been some friendship.”
"There's nothing to talk about," I say, flipping to the next page of the agreement with more force than necessary. "It's awkward, sure. But it's business."
"Bullshit." He tosses his napkin onto the table. "I've known you for twelve years, Oscar. I've seen you negotiate million dollar deals without breaking a sweat. Today? You looked like you'd seen a ghost."
He's right, of course. Seeing Alice again felt exactly like that — like a visitation from another life. One where I was just Oscar, the scholarship kid with big dreams, not Oscar Glynn, CEO of Glynn Enterprises with a net worth that puts me on exclusive lists I never imagined I'd be on.
I push away from the table and walk to the window, looking out at the city below. The truth is right there, simmering in my chest, but dredging it to the surface seems to take the strength of Hercules.
"She hates me," I finally manage to say.
"I picked up on that," Cole replies. "Want to tell me why? The real story this time?"
I turn to face him. "What do you mean?"
"You told me years ago that you and Alice had a falling out over business ethics or something, but that it was amiable in the end. But that look she gave you today? That wasn't professional disagreement. That was personal."
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Cole's been my closest friend since we cut our teeth side by side as assistants at a local firm — the job I took right after Alice and I parted ways.
He’s been there for me through thick and thin, and he deserves the truth. Hell, maybe he even has some advice that could help out.
"We were best friends in college," I begin, returning to my chair. "Inseparable. We took the same classes, studied together, dreamed together. Everyone assumed we were dating, but we weren't. I made sure of that."
"Why?" He asks, leaning forward, hands clasped, asking the question like it’s the most important one of all time.
"Because I was in love with her," I admit, the words still difficult to say aloud even after twelve years. "Too in love to risk ruining what we had. We were building an app together.”
“The one to help farms become organic certified? I didn’t realize that was her.”
“It was her.” I blow out a heavy breath. “I didn’t want to mix business and pleasure. I convinced myself that friendship was enough."
"But it wasn't."
"No." I pick up my abandoned chopsticks and fidget with them. "After graduation, we had plans. Big plans. We were going to go all in on Organic Now.”
I pause, the memories flooding back with surprising clarity — late nights in her tiny apartment, whiteboards filled with our ideas, talk about changing the world for the better.
"What happened?" Cole prompts.
"I finally told her how I felt. I couldn’t keep it in any longer, even though I knew it was probably a bad idea. We'd been celebrating securing our first investor. I had champagne, confidence… and terrible timing."
The scene plays out in my mind like it was yesterday. Alice's shocked expression, the uncomfortable silence that followed my confession, the way my hopes for a magical first kiss turned into a stumbled apology as I walked out the door.
"She didn't feel the same way," I say flatly.
He frowns. "That's it? She rejected you and you fell out?"
"Not exactly." I stand again, too restless to stay seated. "She said she needed time to think, that she was surprised. She went quiet for a couple days and I freaked out. Got a job, you know, where I met you, and she… she felt like I betrayed her, I guess.”
I stuff my hands into my pockets. No, there’s no guessing. I already know she felt like I betrayed her, and still does feel that way.
"So that was it,” Cole guesses.
“That was it. I was ashamed. Figured a clean break would be best. I turned over my part in the app to her. Said I needed to focus on making money right away instead of waiting for our project to take off – if it ever would.”
“Which wasn’t true?”
“No,” I tell the floor. “It’s that I couldn’t stand to go back there, to look in her eyes…”
“Because you were in love with her. Did that app ever get up and running?”
I shake my head, all too aware of my involvement in that. The work I left her with was a lot – more than one person could shoulder. It’s no surprise Organic Now never took off.
Cole whistles low. "And now you own the company she helped build. That's some cosmic fuckery."
"It wasn't intentional," I say quickly. "Her name wasn't on any of the documents I reviewed."
"Would you have backed out if you'd known?"
The question hangs in the air. Would I have? I honestly don't know.
"It doesn't matter now," I say, deliberately sidestepping his question. "What matters is that the tension between us is going to be a problem. The most logical solution is to offer her a generous severance package and let her go."
He shakes his head. "Bad idea."
"Why? She'd be well compensated. It’s more than fair. She doesn’t want to be around me anyway."
"Oscar. You’re not thinking clearly. She knows that company inside and out.
Juan is retiring to Bali, remember? Without Alice, you lose both senior executives — one of them a person who built Rooted Pantry.
Plus, firing her right after acquisition would spook the rest of the staff. It wouldn’t be a good look, my man."
I know he's right. It's the businessman in me that recognizes the practicality of keeping Alice on board, at least through the transition. The human man in me — the one who still remembers how it felt to have her look at me like I was the enemy — wants her as far away as possible.
Or is it that I want her as close as possible?
I shake away the thought. It doesn’t matter. She’s made her feelings clear, and I have no say in it.
"So, what do you suggest?" I ask.
"Keep her on. Work with her. Be the bigger person." He gathers up our takeout containers. "And maybe actually listen to her ideas. From what I saw today, she's not afraid to challenge you, and that's rare in your world."
I scoff. "Everyone challenges me."
"They challenge your ideas, Oscar. Not you. There's a difference." He tosses the containers into the trash. "Besides, working with her might finally give you some closure."
Closure. Is that what I need? After twelve years, I would have thought time had already done that work. But seeing Alice today, feeling that immediate pull toward her despite everything — maybe Cole has a point.
"Fine," I concede. "I'll keep her on. For now."
"Good." He checks his watch. "Now, there's a much more pleasant way to get your mind off Alice. Briana's friend Kendall is in town this weekend. Smart, pretty, works in art curation. We could do dinner at Alley Nine on Saturday."
I shake my head. "I don't have time for dating right now."
"You never have time for dating," he counters. "That's why your last relationship lasted all of three months."
"I'm focused on my companies."
"You're hiding in your companies.” Damn, he’s full of corrections tonight. "But fine, be a workaholic. Just don't complain to me when you're still single at fifty."
With that, he grabs his jacket and heads for the door. "I'm going home to my girlfriend. You should consider finding a life outside this office someday."
After he leaves, I return to the window, watching the lights of Seattle twinkle below. I should follow Cole's advice — both about Alice and about dating. Moving on is the sensible choice in both scenarios.
But sensible has never been my strong suit when it comes to her.
If we're going to work together, I might as well start making peace with it now. And maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to make her look at me the way she used to, before I ruined everything.
Or at the very least, I can try to make her hate me a little less.
But even as I tidy the office up and head out, a voice in the back of my mind whispers a warning: Be careful, Oscar. You fell for her once. Don't make the same mistake twice.
I silence the voice and head out into the night. Some risks are worth taking, even when you know better.