Chapter 12 Jonathan
Jonathan
Welp. It’s Friday. The day our entire office packs up and pretends a lakeside retreat will strengthen teamwork instead of steadily unraveling everyone’s sanity, and I am stoked.
That’s a lie, of course. I’m not usually someone who gets rattled by the unexpected.
I thrive on mayhem, as long as I’m the one orchestrating it.
This trip, though? This four-day masterclass in pretending to be romantically involved with the one woman I can only stand in three-minute increments?
It’s been ruining my sleep and I like my sleep.
Great job on the commercial pitch. We want to move forward with it next week. Enjoy your retreat! – P
So apparently, I crushed Thursday. Ever since AJ kissed me, scratch that, ambushed me with her traitorous lips, my brain has been fizzling out.
I don’t like this version of me. The unsettled one.
The overthinking one. The one who actually googled signs you might have a concussion from emotional whiplash.
Everyone thinks I’m laid-back, easygoing, the guy who rolls with anything.
That’s fine. That’s the version of me I let them see.
Beneath all that, though, I’m a well-oiled, mildly obsessive machine.
I like control. I need order. I alphabetize my spices.
No one knows that and they don’t need to.
Because who wants to date the guy who has a color-coded sock drawer? No one.
I’m Jonathan Slack. I’m fun. I’m chill. Nonchalant should be my middle name. Even if I’m currently spiraling over a woman who once tried to report me to HR for “breathing too loudly.”
When I pull into the building’s entrance, I spot one of the largest, glossiest, most obnoxiously impressive coach buses I’ve ever seen. Blacked-out windows with chrome trim and mood lighting, probably. Yup. That must be our ride to the retreat.
I shake my head, impressed but mostly irked.
Marcus clearly isn’t holding back on this trip.
Flashing his wealth like he’s trying to buy everyone’s admiration or at the very least, their attention.
Whatever, not my problem. AJ doesn’t even want him back.
She made that clear. Truly? She shouldn’t.
The guy left her at the altar. That’s not just a red flag, that’s a fully choreographed warning sign with backup dancers.
Not that I want to marry her or anything.
Still… she would make a great wife. I don’t mean that in a sexist, “make me a sandwich” kind of way.
I mean she’s the type who remembers dentist appointments, packs snacks for the road, strategically highlights the family calendar, folds laundry with crisp corners.
Might even toss in a little handwritten note with her husband’s lunch.
Why am I thinking about this? I blink, shake it off. Get it together, Slack.
And just as I finally tell my brain to stop thinking about her, the universe laughs in my face because here she comes, barreling toward my car with the intensity of a woman chasing the last Sephora sale item. I scantily have time to shift into park before she’s knocking on my passenger-side window.
I roll it down, trying not to look too amused. “You look like someone about to sell me bootleg DVDs or clean my windshield.”
“Shut up,” she snorts. “Can I get in?”
I unlock the car and like some chivalry-programmed robot, I reach over to open the door for her. Instinct, maybe. Or muscle memory from some past life where I was polite.
She slides into the passenger seat and I immediately catch the scent of apricot from her shampoo and notice the hint of skin I’m not used to seeing.
Normally she’s buried under layers of blouses and cardigans, like she’s protesting central heating.
But today she’s in white chinos, long enough to say I’m classy, short enough to say I might ruin your life and look good doing it.
Her mauve cable-knit polo is some kind of preppy Ralph Lauren situation.
It’s good girl with a hint of bad girl corporate. Either way, I’m digging it.
A horn blares behind me.
“Go,” she says, jerking her thumb toward the impatient car behind us.
“Shit.” I peel out of the front loop and head toward the employee parking garage. Level one, my go-to spot: far enough to avoid dings, close enough to avoid crime.
“So, AJ,” I say, throwing her a glance as I pull into a spot. “What’s up?”
She shoots me a look. “Go ahead and get it out of your system now before we see everyone.”
“Get what out?” I ask, though I already know.
“My clothes,” she says flatly. “Make fun of them now. Get it over with.”
I shift into park and turn toward her. “I like your clothes,” I admit honestly. “And the way you smell.” A smirk lifts one corner of my mouth.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at hers too.
Off to a surprisingly good start.
“Well… thanks,” she says, like she’s not quite sure how to process a compliment from me. “I wanted to talk to you before we head in,” she says.
I leave the engine running and keep the AC on full blast because summer in the city is basically Mother Nature’s way of hazing us.
“Talk about what?” I ask, glancing over.
“I was doing some research last night,” she says, adjusting in her seat like she’s about to drop classified intel. “And it turns out most of the accommodations at Cedar Lakes are shared cottages. So, chances are, we’ll be rooming with coworkers.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“I’m going to request Tanya and Elaine, if possible,” she continues, voice lowering like we’re being tailed by the FBI. “If I keep the two people most likely to out us close, I can control the narrative.”
She leans in conspiratorially. Out of habit, I lean in too. The scent of her floral shampoo hits me again and dammit, I need to stay focused.
“Smart plan I guess,” I remark.
She jerks back, narrowing her eyes. “‘You guess’?”
I shrug. “Yeah. I mean… probably fine.”
Her tone sharpens. “Jonathan. Our futures hinge on this lie.”
“I mean… possibly,” I reply, informally. “But you’re making it a thing. No one’s going to find out. We’re solid.”
She stares at me for a second, letting it settle in her brain, then nods.
“Okay. Okay. You’re right.” She exhales and rubs her thigh anxiously.
“It’ll be fine.” She looks up at me and says the one thing I never expected to hear fall out of her mouth in this lifetime or any other. “I think we’ll have to kiss again.”
I cough, almost choking on my own spit. “Wait. Why? I mean… what do you mean?”
She waves her hand like I’m the idiot here. “I mean people are going to expect us to touch. Flirt. Giggle, even. Maybe even finish each other’s sentences. And yes, kiss. You know, like real couples do.”
Kissing AJ again. I mean it’s not like I’m against it. Not even a little.
I smirk. “Whatever you want, babe.”
She groans and swats my hand off the middle console. “Ugh. Stop it. I don’t want to kiss you again. I’m just saying we need to be prepared. Especially if Marcus is lurking around.”
“Right. Marcus.” I nod, my tone coming off more sarcastic than I planned.
She catches the shift. “What does that mean?”
I glance over. “What’s your play here? You want the guy back?”
She pauses and I can see that she doesn’t even know the answer to that question. Not fully at least.
“No. I don’t think so,” she says slowly. “I just… I want him to feel something seeing me with someone else.”
There’s a flicker of something raw behind her eyes. She looks down and starts fidgeting with her pink-painted nails.
“It’s pathetic. I know,” she mumbles.
I take her hand to stop her from wrecking her fresh manicure. “No, AJ. It’s not pathetic. It’s human.”
She looks up at me and for a split second, her gaze drops to my mouth. Don’t read into that, Slack.
“Thanks,” she says, slipping her hand from mine.
I don’t know why I ask the next part. I probably shouldn’t. “What if he does want you back?”
She shrugs, then smiles faintly. “I doubt it. But… I wouldn’t mind seeing him try.”
Laughter flows, coming out of each of us. It’s unexpected and real, just for a breath, just long enough to feel almost normal again. Then… BANG.
Manny slaps the hood of my car like it owes him money. “Wassup, lovebirds!” he shouts into the window.
AJ and I both jolt in our seats.
“Come on.” Manny grins. “Time to check in.”
I roll my eyes and glance at AJ. She smirks, hands raised in surrender.
“Guess it’s showtime,” she says.
* * *
Walking onto our office floor, I start to think, maybe this trip won’t be a total disaster. AJ and I just have to act overly friendly, maybe flirt a little, but keep it light. No drama. No emotional dumpster fires. Should be easy.
We head toward the group, where everyone’s gathered near Marcus and Victoria.
They’re standing at one of the reception desks, handing out VIP passes to wear during our stay at Cedar Lakes.
Apparently, it helps staff keep track of which guests belong to which corporate group.
Makes sense. With a place that big, I’m sure there will be at least one or two other companies sharing the resort.
Marcus reaches for a pass labeled Abigail and before he can hand it to her, I step in and grab it myself. I slip it over AJ’s head, like the charming boyfriend I now am. She smirks, clearly not hating the attention. I think I nailed it.
I turn back to grab my own pass from Marcus, who’s already looking at me like he’d rather be anywhere else.
He hands me the lanyard and says, “Here you go, Jason.”
I grin. “It’s Jonathan.”
His jaw tics. “Ah. Right. Apologies.”
I slap a friendly hand on his back, making sure it’s just a touch too firm. “No worries. By the end of this trip, you won’t forget my name again.” And I wink, because allegedly that’s my new personality trait now.
As I move back to stand beside AJ, I catch Victoria’s expression and let’s just say she’s less than thrilled with the little pissing contest Marcus and I just had.
But she won’t call him out. She can’t. He’s her boss now.
As for me? She’ll play the “cool boss” card during the retreat. So I’m safe… for now.
AJ elbows my side and I turn to see her grinning like she’s about to burst out laughing. I didn’t realize she caught my exchange with Marcus. Either way, I’m glad she did. I like her better when she’s smirking, not snarling.
Marcus steps to the center of the room, all confident allure.
“Thanks, everyone, for coming. This is a corporate retreat, but Victoria and I really want to make it fun and show our appreciation for how astoundingly well the company’s been doing,” he says, clapping like he just cured world hunger.
The office eats it up. By all means they do.
You throw a luxury retreat at a group of overworked employees and magically you’re the messiah in tailored khakis.
It also doesn’t hurt that Marcus looks like a GQ cover wrapped around a Bradley Cooper face.
Our office is 80% women. He could offer them a root canal and they’d still applaud.
I lean down and murmur to AJ, “Has anyone even acknowledged the fact that he’s your ex?”
She pauses, like the thought didn’t occur to her, then shakes her head and looks down.
“What a bunch of pricks we work with, huh?” I add, trying to nudge her mood.
“Yeah,” she says with a shake of her shoulders.
Well, that settles it. I’m officially making it my mission to ensure this retreat is bearable for AJ and miserable enough to make Marcus regret ever showing up in that smug little blazer like he owns the place.
Funny how I’m supposed to be the office jerk, yet I seem to be the only one giving a damn about how hard this has to be for her.
Victoria claps her hands. “We’ve assigned two people per cottage.”
AJ’s head tilts toward the center as Victoria continues. “We’ve printed out your itineraries, but we’ve also left plenty of free time for you to enjoy yourselves,” she says, like this is also a wellness retreat.
She starts handing out sheets and Marcus grabs a few too, making his way over with the swagger of someone who thinks he invented corporate charisma.
I feel the shift in AJ before she even moves; her whole body stiffens as he approaches. Mine probably does too. I try to loosen my shoulders but it’s like the tension’s calcified.
“Here you go,” Marcus says as he hands each of us a paper. Then he adds, real smooth, “I made sure to put you two together in your own cabin.”
I glance down at the paper. Sleepy Pine Cottage. Then at AJ whose face is stuck somewhere between shock and horror. Then back at Marcus. “Thanks,” I say evenly.
AJ doesn’t say a word. Just clutches her paper and pretends to read it like it contains top-tier gossip from the royal family. I’ve worked with this woman for six years and I know when her brain is unraveling like a Pinterest wedding board after three glasses of wine.
Marcus moves along, handing out more papers like he’s Santa Claus with a clipboard instead of a sleigh.
“Yay! Bunk besties!” Tanya squeals, hugging Elaine like they’ve won the friendship lottery. I roll my eyes so hard I practically see my skull.
Manny strolls over and peeks down at our itinerary sheets.
“You’re with Abby, huh?” he says, his voice neutral, eyes flickering just enough to register something.
“I’m with Cliff,” he adds with a half-shrug.
Not sure if he’s bummed it’s not me or pissed I’m with AJ.
“Cool. Cool,” he says, pushing a strand of hair off his forehead like he’s in a slow-mo shampoo commercial. “See you on the bus.”
I turn to AJ. “Everything will be fine… right?” I ask, full sarcasm.
She looks up at me, blue eyes locked in and for the first time, I notice there’s a hint of violet near the edge of her pupils. Weird detail to pick up on now of all times. She stands a little straighter, grabs my paper and folds it like she’s about to brief the troops.
“Yes, it will, Slack,” she says, all bite and commander tone.
Oh boy. Here we go.