“She’s definitely meticulous and dedicated. We like that.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her. It’ll make her feel better since her fiancé is getting agitated. Although, who could blame him? Their wedding is less than four months away.” My lips curl.
He watches me with a special glimmer in his hazel eyes, but as the silence stretches between us, his lighthearted expression sobers. “How are you?”
I pause, considering his question. How much does he know about my life during the last eight years? Does he know about my divorce? About my company?
How unhappy I’ve been?
I push through the knot in my stomach and straighten my posture. “I’m great. Just moved to the city a little over a month ago, so you’ll have to show me all the hotspots sometime.”
I freeze with my mouth agape, realizing what I’ve said. I still can’t tell if he’s happy to see me, or how I feel about seeing him again, either. I’m relieved, but the ache in my chest he caused all those years ago flares like an aggravated ulcer.
“I’m sorry.” I bite my lip. “I know you’re busy with the company and your life. You don’t need me dragging you to all the tourist sights.”
He clenches his jaw, and there’s a familiar fire in his eyes that I haven’t seen in years. It makes me squirm, shifting from one foot to the other.
I start to back away, waving my hands toward the street. “I better get back to the office. It’s my second week, so I can’t slack. Not that it’s okay to ever slack, but—”
“Where’s your phone?” He holds his hand out.
Confused, I give it to him, anyway, and our fingers accidentally brush.
He types on my phone, then hands it back to me. “You have my number. Call me anytime, Jersey,” he says, his voice smooth and gentle.
I nod, my emotions clogging my throat as I stare at him.
Aiden Baxter.
Heartbreakingly handsome.
Ruthlessly evil underneath it all, yet the kind and caring Aiden I once knew is still somewhere in there.
Time has been good to him, to say the least. He’s grown-up. More muscular and lean. He had trouble growing a mustache in college, but he has a beard now. It only adds to his physical appeal.
My heart races as I nod once more to him, then turn to find a taxi. I haven’t perfected the art of hailing a cab yet, but I try to remember what Taylor showed me. Not to wave frantically—I’m not in need of an ambulance. Don’t step off the curb until they come to a complete halt. Always sit in the back. And lastly, I don’t have to make small talk. Most drivers prefer I don’t, according to her.
Being from a small town without a cab service, I’m thankful for her easy guide.
I follow the steps, and once I’m settled into one, I peer out the window, losing myself in times long gone as the buildings blur. We stop every few seconds as traffic increases, and my breathing becomes rapid the longer I sit here.
Memories flood my brain like they’re unearthed from a cemetery.
“This is Aiden from my college algebra class I told you about.” Dave high-fives a guy with dirty-blond hair that’s trimmed on the sides. He’s tan, and his deep amber-colored eyes remind me of summer nights when the sun sets.
When he greets me, his warmth reaches his eyes, which crinkle in the corners from his smile. “Sage, right?”
“Yeah.” I dip my head, and his innocent use of my name makes my stomach flutter.
“Dave told me you want to move to New York City after college.”
“Wouldn’t that be awesome?” I fall in step with them as we walk to the student union. “I’d love to find a little apartment in Jersey City. I’d take the train across the river into Manhattan, where I’d work for a fancy company. I’d jog in Central Park. Get bagels and coffee every morning and be so in-tune with the city life that I wouldn’t even need a subway map.”
Dave wraps his arm around my shoulders, gripping my upper arm tighter than usual. Odd. “It’s just a fantasy, like your poetry.”
“My poetry?” I tense. “What’s wrong with writing poetry?”
“I mean, it’s great that you love it, but it’s a hobby. What’re you going to do—become a full-time poet? You can’t make money doing that.”
I sigh. He’s right, but his mocking tone—how easily he dismisses my interests—makes my chest squeeze.
“Besides, do you know how expensive the city is? Even outside Manhattan. Even if we started saving the moment we started dating four years ago, it still wouldn’t cover one month’s rent. And your poetry sure as hell wouldn’t help.” He chuckles while my stomach sinks further.
“Nothing’s impossible,” Aiden jumps in, but Dave doesn’t seem to hear him as we enter the noisy cafeteria.
In line for our food, Aiden leans into me. “I like that you want to move to Jersey City and work in Manhattan. It’s cool.” He taps his chin in exaggeration. “I think I’ll call you Jersey Girl from now on. Or maybe just Jersey.”
“We’re here.”
I snap my attention to the driver, then fish my wallet out of my purse to pay with a card. Once it goes through, I get out and make my way into the building that houses CJJ Promotions.
Thankfully, Taylor puts me right to work, and I’m too distracted by numbers, account files, and social media for the next few hours to think about anything else.
I draft content, then re-draft.
Make coffee and lunch runs.
Schedule and confirm meetings.
And as the setting sun casts a soft glow over the city, I’m working with Taylor in her office. Our containers from a late lunch are stacked to the side. The only sound is soft music and shuffling of papers as we wind down from the day.
“Thanks for taking me with you today,” I say, breaking our silence.
“Although most of your job will be done from here for a while, I want to eventually do outings with you like that.” She leans back in her chair, her expression wistful. “When I was Catherine Pope’s assistant, she gave me more and more responsibility, which gave me more experience and confidence to do this job.”
“That must’ve been helpful.”
“It was. She was amazing to work for—a brilliant mentor—and I admired her. She started here as an intern, worked her way up, and now runs her own branch of CJJ in LA.” After a short pause, she meets my gaze. “I hope to do the same for you that she did for me.”
“It means a lot. Thank you.”
When I moved here, I didn’t have a job lined up. It wasn’t ideal, but I sold my business right before I moved. I had money to start my new life without the past holding me back.
Taylor took a chance on me, and I’ll never forget the magnitude of that.
“Do you want to talk about Aiden yet?”
I grimace. How do I divulge my sordid past to my new boss without giving her the impression that he’ll interfere with my work performance? “We met in college. He was, uh”—I clear my throat—“he was friends with my boyfriend at the time, and we hung out a lot. I hadn’t seen him since he graduated and moved away.”
She studies me, and I squirm like I’m in an interrogation room with a light shining on my forehead. She gives me a tight-lipped smile, then says, “I have a feeling there’s more to the story, but I’ll let you stop there until you’re ready to share the rest.”
I sigh with relief.
She intertwines her fingers on her desk in front of her and leans forward. “I know you’re new and still getting used to things, but I’m always here if you need someone to talk to. Catherine and I had a great working relationship, but we were also friends. I’d like that with you too.”
“I could really use a friend.”
“I’m here when you’re more comfortable.”
“Thank you.” I smile, genuinely grateful that I was lucky enough to find Taylor—a friend—in this sea of broken hopes and dreams that is New York.
I went on too many interviews to count the first few weeks of living here. I bounc
ed from one company to the next, feeling more and more dejected every time someone asked me if I knew how to brew coffee and transfer a call. For weeks, I feared I was destined to remain behind a desk with a phone glued to my hand, warding off cold callers.
Then, I met with Taylor, and it was as if I was standing at the end of a rainbow next to a pot of gold. She saved my ass, to be frank.
Although I still make coffee and lunch runs and deal with the occasional cold caller, there’s more opportunity to grow at CJJ, a premier PR firm. She’s already entrusted me with something as big as social media content. I have more responsibilities after two weeks here than I would’ve had at any of the other jobs I interviewed for.
“Don’t forget that I’m from a small town too,” Taylor says, a hint of her Midwestern accent in her voice. “I know what a shock it can be to move here, so let me know if you need any more guidance. We talked about taxis already. Maybe next week, we can discuss ordering food without holding up the line at delis.”
“Perfect, because if I get yelled at one more time, I might cry.” I giggle, recalling lunch the last couple of days at the crowded markets. “I’d stop going to the one around the corner, but it’s too cheap and delicious.”
We laugh together, then decide to pack up for the day.
“Nice job today,” she says as I leave her office.
I thank her again, then follow her to the elevator, mentally composing a list of tasks I need to complete tomorrow.
Maybe I’ll come in early.
“Listen,” she starts as we ride to the bottom floor. “It’s obvious you and Aiden Baxter have a history, but whatever he was to you before, just remember, he’s a client now. We’ve been hired to do a job.”
I gulp. “Understood.”
Her expression softens. “My former boss I told you about? She fell for her client. They’re living together in LA now and will probably get married soon, but their relationship was hard on her at first.” She frowns as the elevator doors open, and we step off. “When secrets surfaced, it threatened her job and career—everything she’d worked hard for. You and I may not know each other well, yet”—she squeezes my arm—“but I can tell landing this job is important to you. So, I’m only offering you some friendly advice to be careful about crossing lines with him.”
“I appreciate it,” I whisper.
She pats my arm, then says, “See you tomorrow.”
My body is tense as I walk toward the subway. It’s like retracing my steps from the day I arrived at CJJ for my second interview.
I was scared and nervous, but Taylor was warm and made me feel like I could really have a place here.
After I accepted the job that day, I walked out on this very sidewalk, past the same buildings that stood tall and intimidating, yet they felt like friends rooting for me.
Because I’m doing it—the impossible.
I divorced Dave, and it was the first step to creating the life I always wanted but didn’t think I could have.
I moved to New York.
Got a job at a top-tier firm.
Rented an apartment in Jersey City.
I sit on the subway, swaying with the train as it zips along the track. When we come to a stop to let people on and off, my phone vibrates, and I quickly check the text before it blurs once we start moving again.
Dave: Can we meet at the coffee shop? I want to talk.
I don’t have to ask him which one he’s referring to. It’s the coffee shop he and I would always go to on Sundays. It was our weekly tradition, a routine much like our entire relationship.
As the subway jostles me side to side, I manage to type out that I can’t meet him, swallowing down my urge to apologize to him. I’m done with that.
I also purposely leave out the fact that I don’t live in North Carolina anymore. That I haven’t been in town since our nasty run-in at the grocery store. I packed up my things the next day and headed north to move in with my cousin Naomi in Jersey City.
My phone vibrates again.
Dave: Why? What’re you doing?
“I’m headed to my apartment hundreds of miles from you,” I mutter under my breath. I would worry about seeming crazy to those around me, but during my short time in the city, I’ve seen much, much worse.
Me: I’m busy. Besides, you don’t get to ask me those questions anymore.
Dave: I only want to apologize for what happened. I thought you’d at least give me the opportunity after all I did for you.
I scoff, then turn my phone off. I can’t listen to any more of his guilt trips. Besides, I don’t have to stand for his bullshit now, not since our divorce was finalized a few weeks ago.
I’m free of him.
When I’m alone on the train across the river, my mind drifts to Aiden.
To years of wondering what happened to him.
To my broken heart.
I thought I was free of the past altogether, but as fate would have it, Aiden and I now work together.
“Don’t go to him.” Aiden tugs on my sleeve and pleads. “Stay with me.”
I sharply inhale, remembering our night together like it was yesterday.
Sweaty bodies tangled in the sheets.
Skin to skin.
Hot.
So much heat between us.
I inhale again to steady my racing heart.
I thought New York would be my fresh start, but how can it be? Working with Aiden, constantly facing the mistakes of my past, how can I start over here?
Chapter Three
AIDEN
“So…” Westin leans against my door at the end of yet another dragging workday.
My office is dark, but the light from the main space behind him casts a freaky glow around him. It’s quiet, aside from the buzzing noise coming from Jared’s office. He’s in the process of blowing up an air mattress—he changed his mind about sleeping here.
“Will today be the day you finally tell me about Sage, or do I have to wait until our next meeting to find out you two are secretly married or some shit?”
I keep my focus on the screen in front of me, avoiding his gaze. I can practically hear the burning questions inside his head. “Nothing like that.”
It’s been almost a week since she was here.
She hasn’t taken me up on my offer to call me, and I haven’t reached out, either.
Then again, what did I expect? We didn’t leave college on speaking terms. Not a word since we went our separate ways.
Since she married Dave.
I haven’t spoken to either of them since I crossed the state line into a new life. Changed my number.
Veered into a different career path.
Reinvented myself.
I’ve never spoken about them to anyone, but it’s hard to keep Westin in the dark at this point.
We’re not just business partners. We’re friends. It’s been easy to distract him with work this week, but there’s nowhere to run now that we have a minute of downtime for once, especially since Taylor and Sage have taken some of our load. There were a few bugs I had to rework, but now, there’s a pause in my hectic schedule as I wait for results.
“Must be something serious. You’re not this silent about anything other than college. Are the two subjects related?” Westin pushes.
“Yes.” I sigh, leaning back in my chair and turn toward him. I can hardly see his face, which makes it easier to spill at least one detail. “We were friends in college.”
“Just friends?” Jared asks, appearing on the other side of Westin, seemingly out of nowhere.
I almost fall out of my chair. “Jesus Christ. A little warning next time, yeah?”
He rolls his eyes.
“Listen, Sage and I were friends in college. She was also my best friend’s girlfriend at the time.”
“Ouch,” they say in unison, glancing at each other like they want to know more but don’t know how far to push me.
They know my temper is that of a bear, so they tread lightly some
days. Other days, they don’t seem to care and make a game of teasing me over stupid shit like my love for Pop-Tarts.
Lila pops her head up from the desk in the far corner. “Westin, I have a question for you, please.”
He eyes me as he walks backward, pointing from me to him. “This isn’t over.”
I shake my head, then unlock my phone. I check my message from Raven about drinks with her art friends. Exhaling, I respond that I’m still at work and won’t be able to make it.
Before I click out of our thread, she replies back that I need a break. That I’m working too hard. That I’ll be blinded from too many hours staring at a computer screen.
She’s been concerned about the number of hours I put in at work, but she gets that this is important to me. She’s been supportive, but lately… her concern has turned into something else.
Something I can’t place.
I lean back, twirling the phone in my hands. Against my better judgment, I click through my contacts until I get to Sage’s name.
Jersey.
I rub my lip, then hover my thumb over her name.
“I think the name Jersey is growing on me,” she says, eyeing me over her cheeseburger. She swipes a strand of hair from her forehead that the wind blew, then takes a big bite, half her face disappearing behind the burger.
When she pulls back, I stare at her lips. At her slender throat bobbing when she swallows. At her honey-colored hair that keeps blowing in her face.
I shift on the blanket we spread out for our picnic in the courtyard between our dorms. “Good, because that’s your name from now on. I’m even sending weekly newsletters for others to make sure they call you that.”
“Is that why Professor Adams wrote it on my essay?”
“Did she really?”
“No.” She rolls her eyes.
“Damn. How dare she disobey my order? She’s on my payroll.”
Sage shakes her head, peering around us at the other students walking or studying at the wooden tables. She likes to people-watch. She once said it’s where she gets her inspiration for poems, in the everyday, finding beauty in the mundane.
Unbreakable: A Salvation Society Novel Page 3