Chapter 11
SUMMER
The living room wall rattles with the thwap of the front door. I attempt to lift my head off the dilapidated hunk of cotton Jules considers a throw pillow and groan.
I should have never fallen asleep on this couch. The kink in my neck is evidence of that. So are yesterday’s clothes as my braless chest comes face-to-face with Julia’s ex in the entryway.
Jake’s hands are planted on his hips as if he’s commanding a room full of people. “Where is she?”
I snatch the ring from the carpet, fold my arms, and cross the room “Hello to you too. I’m going to wager she’s where I find her every morning at this time of day.”
It’s a small dig that I know her schedule better than he does. A sizzle sparks from the kitchen, and his eyes dart in that direction.
“Thanks for the help.” He follows the sound.
Jake’s aware I’m not his biggest fan. To clarify, I like him as a person, but I don’t appreciate his choices. The day he starts showing up for Henry and Julia, I’ll happily give him a free pass.
I close the door to Julia’s office—my room.
We managed to squeeze a twin bed in here, but I share it with a desk, Henry’s bearded dragon, and a sewing table.
Not to mention the pile of laundry belonging to me that litters the floor.
It’s a lot cozier than I’m used to, which is probably why I didn’t give a second thought to sleeping on the couch.
I toss my phone and ring on the desk and minutes later, when the paper-thin walls do nothing to mask their conversation, I give in and let myself eavesdrop.
“Did you think about it?” Jake asks.
I hear a clatter. A spatula maybe? Julia is the most even-keeled person until Jake comes around. He drives a motorcycle and has a sleeve of tattoos. Julia wears cardigans that button to her collarbone. They are the epitome of opposites attract.
“What are you doing here, Jake?” she demands.
“I can’t come see my son?”
“That’s not why you came. Your first question answered that.”
“It’s been over a month, and you still haven’t answered me,” he says.
Julia keeps her feelings for Jake pretty private. I know they’re still there, but she’s also a strong independent woman who doesn’t need anyone. She’d rather be on her own and stuff away her feelings for him than let him weigh her down. I respect the hell out of her for that.
“I thought this was all too much for you,” I hear her say back.
My stupid phone interrupts this intriguing conversation.
The interview! I replied before falling asleep and forgot to set an alarm. I read her message: Great! See you soon! before checking the time. Twenty minutes. That’s all I have before I’m expected to be there.
I don’t have time to shower, so I gather the only clean outfit I have left—a patterned pair of flowy pants and a hot-pink bodysuit. I’ve never worked in a high-profile setting before. I have no idea if it’s dressy enough, but it will have to do.
With an armful of clothes, I sneak into Julia’s room across the hall and grab a pair of nude heels from her closet.
When Henry tolerates going, she attends church sometimes.
The heels might be a tight squeeze, but I have small feet for my height.
Hopefully she doesn’t mind if I borrow them.
It’s not like I’m about to interrupt this intense conversation happening in the kitchen to ask her.
I slip into the guest bathroom, apply a swipe of deodorant, brush my teeth, and put on the outfit. I brush the tangles from my hair and twist it up in a clip before glancing at myself in the mirror one last time. Between the heels and the hair, it elevates an otherwise casual ensemble.
The hallway carpet muffles the clack of the pointy shoes. Jake and Julia don’t hear me coming.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel something,” he whispers.
My eyes shoot to the kitchen where he’s covered her hand on the counter. His body language is screaming kiss me now.
I am a slot machine of questions. What happened? Who felt what? Why didn’t you tell me? But it’s her question directed at me that gets answered first as my heels meet the entryway’s hardwood.
“Where are you going?”
I don’t pause at the sound of her voice.
“Interview!” I shout over my shoulder.
“Good lu—” The front door cuts off the rest of that word.
I’ll tell her thank-you later. Right about the time I ask her about Jake.
Any other morning it would be a twenty-minute commute to Ford Law, but on a Saturday, it’s less than ten. Even set back from the main road, the five-story commercial office building covered in more windows than wall is not hard to spot.
I find a space right up front labeled Visitor Parking and catch a glance of the Boise River before slipping in the front door.
The lobby is silent and empty. Black-and-white checkered flooring leads to an empty elevator bank.
I’m certainly not taking the stairs after my ankles already threatened to collapse on foreign stilts while crossing the parking lot.
I find my destination engraved in a gold plaque next to the elevator door. Emma Dawson, fifth floor, it reads.
The ride up is a lot faster than I’d like it to be. It’s not enough time to think this through. I should have stopped and told Julia about it. See if she thought I was crazy. What makes me think this job will be any different from the last ten?
A ding and the doors open. I step into a hallway of plush burgundy carpet leading in two different directions. I completely skip over any wall signs and follow the sound of a female voice coming from the right.
When I turn the corner, a long desk with two receptionists greets me.
“Can I help you?” the closest one asks. Her cream-colored silk blouse is the only part of her outfit I can see over the shiny surface. Diamond studs sparkle through her shoulder-length haircut.
“Yes, hi. I’m here for an interview with Emma Dawson.”
Her friend lifts a hand to her mouth. A stifled laugh supersedes her “She’s on the left side of the building” directions.
I gather left to mean less than with the way she emphasizes it.
Her eye roll also suggests I should have read the signs and known that.
Her attitude in general is a far cry from the politeness I expected in an office of this caliber.
I offer a thanks even if she doesn’t deserve one. It’s after I’m out of their line of vision but not earshot I hear the one who didn’t talk whisper, “Did you see what she was wearing?”
I may not feel thirty in many ways, but the catty, mean-girl vibe they put off feels high school to me.
There’s nothing about the opposite side of the building that’s inferior. It’s a mirror image of the right minus an occupied front desk. There’s no one to check in with, so I knock on the only closed door.
“Come in,” she calls from the other side.
I twist the gold handle, and a head of dark hair is visible over the top of a large monitor.
“Please have a seat, I’m just—” Her sentence ends abruptly when she lifts her head. “Oh! Hi! It’s—”
“Emma,” I fill in for her. “Good to see you again.”
Her warm smile puts my nerves at ease.
“You too.” She gestures to the two leather chairs facing her desk. I take the one on the left on purpose. There’s no sense pretending I’m not less than in this place.
“I hope you found me okay.”
I don’t tell her it took a run-in with a pair of pompous receptionists to do it.
“I should have known it was you based on the application. It’s not very often I run into someone with the name Summer. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’d love a water, please.”
I regret accepting her offer the moment she stands and presses her palms down a navy-blue blazer and pencil skirt.
By looks alone, Emma Dawson embodies every bit of poise I expected from this office.
Thankfully, her eyes have never strayed from my face.
She swings open the door of a black mini fridge to the side of her desk.
Color-coded labels in neat rows line the shelves.
She fists two glass bottles and swings the door shut, handing me one.
“Thank you,” I say, taking it from her.
“Of course.” She sits back down and rolls her desk chair to the side of her monitor. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure.” I straighten and suck in a deep breath, puffing out my chest. Is that what one does at these sorts of things? I’m so out of my element.
She slides on a pair of glasses and thumbs through a stack of papers.
“Oh, screw it!” She yanks the glasses off and tosses the paperwork in the air.
It pinwheels a few times before scattering all over the small patch of carpet around her desk.
“Since we’ve already met, I think we can skip the formalities, right? ”
I hope she doesn’t catch the bob of my throat when I swallow. Would I be reacting this way if this wasn’t Rhett’s sister? I’m second-guessing everything.
“I’m going to be blunt with you,” she continues. “There are some people in this office who are… difficult to work with. They’ve driven away four perfectly capable assistants of mine, and I really need the help. Would you say you have thick skin, Summer?”
Does dealing with your grumpy brother count?
I don’t say that. Instead, I return the level of honesty.
“I’ve had sixteen jobs in the last decade.
My track record of sticking with something is not great.
But I’m living with my best friend after going through a divorce, and I really need the money for a deposit on an apartment.
I know my skill set may not transfer to this job, but I’m a quick learner.
And if you’re asking if I can handle those catty girls down the hall, the answer is a resounding yes.
” Of that I am confident. I unscrew the cap off the bottle of water and tip it toward my lips.
She grins at me. “You’re hired.”
I gulp down the liquid in a stiff bob of the throat. “Just like that?” A gust of surprise follows my question. I expected she’d need details. An even longer explanation of my work history. A trial run to make sure I make good on my word.
All the while, my heart is screaming You already found the job you want! while also being drowned out by the logical voice in my head that says But it’s something you can never have.
“I can pay you thirty dollars an hour. Can you start today?” Emma’s hands are folded in a pleading gesture.
All thoughts of being anyone’s nanny vanish as I sputter and choke on another swig of water. “I’m sorry… Did you say thirty dollars an hour?”
She smiles. “I told you I needed help.”
I calculate the math. That’s… sixty-two thousand dollars a year.
Ten grand shy of what Brian makes. I can’t…
I don’t… what? I expected it to take me years—if ever—to work my way up to that kind of salary.
I won’t have to stare at Brian’s court-deemed money in my account as soon as I can prove the income. There’s no way I can turn this down.
A legal assistant wasn’t the job I was hoping for, but I like Emma, and she’s taking a chance on me. The thought of living on my own and supporting myself no longer feels as far away as it did. Right now, that’s all that matters. And I remind myself that it doesn’t have to be forever.
“Yes.” I nod eagerly. “Yes, I can.”
Eight hours of learning to manage Emma’s calendar, maintain her case files, and handle incoming and outgoing emails and phone calls is how I spend my first day on the job.
Despite my head swimming by the end of it, I’ve managed to keep it above water.
Which is all that matters—it’s all I promised her.
It’s obvious how backlogged her workload is and, like helping with Quinn, it feels nice to be needed.
I didn’t consider how triggering and disheartening it would feel seeing the number of divorce cases that cross her desk though.
I’m not surprised. I know the staggering statistics; I added to them.
If there was any other way, I wouldn’t have.
It wasn’t my choice. A memory of the ring on my finger and Julia’s words from last night drift through my head.
I figured you’d take it off when you were ready.
I don’t know what held me back. I don’t like to think about it. Another reason why this job will be good for me. Gives me very little time to think at all.
I make it through a quarter of the stack before it’s time to go home for the day.
“Thank you so much for taking this job. I’m glad my brother introduced us,” Emma says as we walk to the elevator together.
“He’s a good guy.”
She eyes me with a smile but doesn’t say anything as the other legal assistants step into the elevator with us.
“You’re still here,” one of them points out.
I wink at her. “First day.”
They look at each other and share a smirk. “I’m Tara. This is Jasmine. You should come out with us to celebrate. Amsterdam Lounge. Have you heard of it?”
The first thing I notice is that they don’t invite Emma.
“I have.”
Their eyes brighten. The elevator dings and the doors open. They step out first, waiting for me on the other side.
“Sorry, I have plans. But just so you know, you’ll need your fake IDs. They card at the door.”
The two of them share a disgruntled look before scampering away. Once they’re out of the building, Emma twists my shoulders to face her.
“That was amazing! You’re amazing.” She hugs me.
“So are you,” I say.
When she pulls away, all I see are those familiar amber eyes.
It must be a Dawson thing.