Every man in this first batch of alphas already has a full client roster. The response is exciting, but also overwhelming. The investors have stressed how much they want Alpha Mail to be out front early, before imitation businesses can swallow up our prospective market.
“So you don’t want to lie,” I say, looking out at them. “Or I guess you don’t want to give an answer that’s not possible. If you’re sitting in your office here, you don’t want to tell the client you’re at the gym working out. It’s all about a fantasy, but you don’t want to deceive.”
I reach for the keyboard to type out an answer to Gretchen’s latest question. She’s handling the client end of the conversation from her laptop on the other side of the room, and I’m working on the alpha side from my end.
“Just got in a workout and got some coffee,” I say aloud as I type. “How are you this morning, beautiful?”
I look out over the group of new employees, paying attention to who seems to be listening and who looks disinterested. The New York HR team is supposed to be doing the same from their row of chairs along one side of the room, but I want to make sure they’re paying close attention.
“So,” I continue, “you usually want to shift the focus back on to the client. Our most satisfied clients like conversations that focus on them, whether it’s their day-to-day lives, their frustrations, or their sexual desires. If they ask about you, answer, but remember—no overly personal details, as you read in your orientation guide. We have suggestions listed there for how to deflect those questions.”
Gretchen waves to get my attention and taps her watch, signaling that it’s lunchtime.
“Okay, so we’re going to break for lunch, which is being catered in the other conference room,” I tell the group. “And after lunch, Kell from the Chicago office will do a client chat live in here for us.”
The room empties quickly, and soon it’s just Gretchen and me.
“It’s going well,” she says, sitting down next to me.
“They seem like a good bunch. Kell will be a better teacher than I am.”
Gretchen reaches for the paper cup of coffee she brought over with her, glances at it, then sets it down again.
“I’m gonna go catch a nap on that couch in your office,” she says with a sheepish smile. “Sleep sounds better than food right now.”
“Take as long as you need. We only got like four hours of sleep last night. I promise we’ll quit earlier tonight.”
She gives me a skeptical look.
“Promise.” I laugh and reach for my own cup of lukewarm coffee.
“I don’t mind working late. It’s exciting to see this place taking off. It’s even bigger than the Chicago office.”
“I talked to Sheryl in accounting this morning, and you’ll have a very nice bonus coming with your next paycheck.”
Gretchen’s face lights up. “Thank you. I’m not here because I expected that. I like traveling to new places and helping you.”
“I know. But you’re great at what you do, and I plan to keep you for a very long time. The way to do that is to show you how much I appreciate you, rather than just telling you.”
I prefer actions to words. I remember reading that, not knowing it was actually Ryan, and thinking he might actually be something special. And it’s stayed with me. I’m working on showing my executive team how much I value them rather than just patting them on the back.
Gretchen gets up, grabs her bag, and heads for my office, dumping her nearly empty coffee cup in the trash on the way out. I know she’s exhausted—I am too—but hopefully, that bonus will help when she sees it in her bank account Friday morning.
I should go in and have lunch with the New York team. I’m all business with some of them, and I need to get to know more about their personal lives. But I’m worn out, and with my defenses down, I can’t deny how much I miss my conversations with Ryan.
For weeks, I told myself it was over, once I knew RoughRider’s identity. The magic was in the mystery. I couldn’t confide my deepest feelings and desires in my brother’s best friend, the man I’d known since he was a boy with scrawny arms and a crooked grin.
But I miss him. I don’t just miss the anonymous RoughRider; I miss the man he truly is, which means I miss Ryan. I told myself I was supposed to deny it, but why? Ryan started seeing me differently ten years ago, and I unknowingly started seeing him differently as we exchanged messages.
There are men I could reach out to for a date, sex, or just conversation to get my mind off Ryan. I don’t want to, though. There’s only one man I want to talk to, and wondering if he misses me too is about to drive me over the edge.
Even though I know he hasn’t messaged me, I open my Foxy app often, just to make sure. I open it for the second time today, sighing when I confirm he hasn’t written.
I’m so focused on getting the New York office open that during the day, I don’t have much time to think about where Ryan and I left things. But at night, even though I’m completely exhausted, I slip slowly into sleep, distracted by thoughts of him.
Does he check the Foxy app for no reason too? Is he trying to move on by dating someone? Does he really regret reaching out to me as RoughRider?
I guess he probably does. Like he said, he wants all or nothing, and our current relationship is more nothing than it’s ever been. But now that I’ve had time to think about things, I’m glad he did it. Ryan has had feelings for me for ten years, and I had no idea. What if he’d never told me?
It’s ridiculous for me to be sitting alone in this conference room, the unanswered questions still nagging at me. This is Ryan. I know him. I’m going to just ask him.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I message him.
SIENNAM: I know you’re teaching right now, but . . . hi.
I’m surprised when he writes back quickly.
ROUGHRIDER16: Hey. I’m teaching Driver’s Ed this morning, and I’m in between students.
SIENNAM: Yikes, like the actual driving part?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yep. The kids are more scared about it than I am . . . usually.
SIENNAM: What’s the 16 for in your screen name?
ROUGHRIDER16: My jersey number when I played football at Ohio State.
SIENNAM: Ah.
ROUGHRIDER16: Coop told me you’re in NY. How’s it going?
SIENNAM: Busy, but good.
SIENNAM: Do you miss our convos?
ROUGHRIDER16: Yes. Do you?
SIENNAM: Yes.
ROUGHRIDER16: Would they hold the same appeal now that you know it’s me?
SIENNAM: Would I be bringing it up if not?
ROUGHRIDER16: idk, would you?
SIENNAM: I’m totally swamped with work, and I try to fill in the gaps for Carmen with Jack as much as I can since Jack’s dad is a deadbeat loser, so I don’t have much of a social life.
ROUGHRIDER16: Same here. I’m crazy busy with football season.
SIENNAM: Does that mean you don’t have time for dating?
ROUGHRIDER16: Depends who’s asking . . .
SIENNAM: I’ve been wondering if you’re trying to move on by dating other women.
ROUGHRIDER16: No, not right now. You think I should?
SIENNAM: No.
SIENNAM: You hurt my feelings that night at my place.
ROUGHRIDER16: I’ve hurt over you for YEARS, babe. Call it even?
SIENNAM: Maybe . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: What do you want, Sienna? Don’t play games with me.
SIENNAM: I honestly don’t know. I guess what I’m saying is, if I had a different life . . . I’d want to date you. I’ve had time to get over the shock and see you in a different light. You’re amazing.
ROUGHRIDER16: Coming from you, that’s enough to sustain me for the next 20 years or so . . .
SIENNAM: Ryan Lennox, you have me on a pedestal. You’d be disappointed in the real deal. I’m a workaholic. I don’t know how to cook. I haven’t had a bikini wax in ages, and I kinda don’t even care.
ROUGHRIDER16: You can be my sugar mama, I’ll cook, and TRUST ME, I don’t give a fuck about it.
SIENNAM: I’m going to be here for the next week, then I’ll be in LA for a few days, then I need to be with Carmen and Jack. I truly don’t have time for even one date right now, but if I did . . . I’d want it to be with you.
ROUGHRIDER16: Why the change of heart?
SIENNAM: It wasn’t a change, really. I just needed time. And I still wouldn’t be all in, like you want, but . . . I just wanted to tell you . . . I think about you, and I miss you.
ROUGHRIDER16: That means a lot to me. I miss you too. More than I can put into words.
SIENNAM: I wish I could say let’s take a shot when things change for me, but with the NY and LA offices in the works, and Jack . . .
ROUGHRIDER16: What’s his prognosis?
SIENNAM: He has a type of Batten’s that makes it statistically impossible he’ll see adulthood.
ROUGHRIDER16: Fucking hell. I didn’t realize it was a certainty.
SIENNAM: It is.
ROUGHRIDER16: I’m sorry, but my student just got here. Talk later?
SIENNAM: Yes, this evening?
ROUGHRIDER16: Have practice and then reviewing film with my coaches. Would 9:30 work?
SIENNAM: Maybe? That’s 10:30 here, and I’m running on empty. If I don’t message tonight, I will tomorrow.
ROUGHRIDER16: Get some sleep, Pup. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not just talking about tonight.
The words “RoughRider16 has left the conversation” are blurred by welling tears when they appear on my screen.
I’ve been let down too many times to hope, and I have to stay sharply focused on the Alpha Mail expansion, but like I do with Jack, I let myself savor the moment of joy.
This moment feels good. Better than I’ve felt in a while, actually. I smile, dab at the corners of my eyes, and head into the conference room for lunch.
#mywholelifeinonelittlepackage
I TAKE IN a huge breath of muggy Chicago air as I step off my flight home. It may not smell pleasant, but it does smell like home. My trips back and forth between New York and LA have been ongoing for two weeks now, with no time for a stop home in between.
Opening two new offices at the same time was overly ambitious. I’m not sure I’ll do it again. As soon as I get things rolling at one office, something inevitably comes up at the other one.
Things are good now, with the New York office officially open and the LA one opening soon. I’m finally comfortable going home and leaving things in the hands of my managers at each branch.
I couldn’t be happier it’s Friday night. I don’t have to go into work tomorrow for the first time since I left Chicago. There was no reason to take weekends off in New York and LA. It’s a little after eight p.m., so I might be able to catch Jack before he goes to bed. I hope so. I missed him terribly.
After I see Jack, all I want to do is take a hot shower and change out of my comfy travel clothes—yoga pants and a T-shirt—into clean yoga pants and a T-shirt. Then I’m planning to talk to Carmen for a while, eat, and get an amazing night of sleep.
Ryan and I have been messaging off and on, but with my work schedule, it’s been tough. What little extra time I have is mostly spent talking to Carmen. Jack has been forgetting things and losing his coordination more frequently. I know it’s hard for her to talk about it because of what it means, but I also know that if she wants to talk about it, I need to drop everything and be there to listen.
One of my investors owns a car service, and I’m grateful she offered me free rides anytime I’m traveling. I’m so jet-lagged I don’t even feel like driving, and it’s nice to have the driver pile my bags into the trunk and deal with traffic while I zone out in the back seat.
I actually fall asleep on the twenty-five-minute trip to my place, and I wake up disoriented when the driver opens my door.
“Thank you,” I murmur, handing him a tip.
He helps me in with my bags, and as soon as I close the door behind him, Carmen is standing in the living room. She’s wringing a dishtowel in her hands, her cheeks streaked with tears.
“Oh my God, what is it?” I drop my bag and run toward her, my arms open.
My heart races with worry as she cries. After a few seconds, she pulls herself together and says, “Jack. He’s getting confused and forgetting things . . .” She closes her eyes and sighs deeply. “And I keep it together in front of him, because I don’t want him to know, but—”
“It’s okay.” I hold her tightly, my heart hurting for her. “I’m here now. You can let it all out to me.”
She pulls back, gives me a sad smile, and swipes her fingertips beneath her eyes. “Thanks. But I need to figure out how to be honest about Jack’s illness in front of him. I’ve been talking to my therapist about it, and I get why I’ve hidden it from him until now. I was in denial myself, and I wanted him to feel normal. But . . . he’s terminally ill.”
I shake my head, a lump burning my throat. “How do you make a six-year-old understand that?”
“I’m supposed to give him the answers he asks for, as gently as I can.” She sits down on the couch, wringing the towel between her fingers again. “I just don’t want to break down in front of him, even though my counselor says it’s okay if I do. I want to be strong for him.”
“I know.” I sit down on the coffee table so I’m facing her. “But there’s no right or wrong way to do this, Carmen. And as hard as it is to talk about, or even think about . . . there are things you should say to Jack while he can still understand them.”
She sniffles, tears pooling in her eyes. “Should I tell him I’d give my life for him? Because I would. I ask God all the time why it’s him and not me. I don’t want to live without him, Sienna.”
Her expression is pure agony. I ache for her. But she needs me to hold her up right now, not crumble.
“You should tell him he’s the best thing that ever happened to you.” My voice breaks as I say it. “Show him the photos of you holding him and tell him that was . . . the greatest day of your whole life.”
When she closes her eyes, tears course down her cheeks. “It was.”
“Tell him you’ll love him for every second he’s on this earth, and every second after. And that . . .” I take a breath, trying to compose myself. “That you never would have understood unconditional love without being his mom.”
She nods. “I do need to tell him those things. I will.”
“What can I do?” I reach out and put my palms on her knees. “Just tell me. Anything in the world.”
“You’re already doing it. Being able to spend every minute he’s awake with him and not have to worry about money is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me, or ever will.”
“I love you both,” I say softly.
“And we love you.” She pats one of my hands and then gestures at her wrist. “This thing is a lifesaver, you know.”
“You like it?”
She glances at the rubber bracelet with a small monitor attached to it. It looks like a fitness tracker, but it’s actually a device I had made for her. She attaches a monitor to Jack when he goes to bed, and the monitor on her wrist will buzz and sound an alarm if Jack’s vital signs change.
“It’s amazing. I can take showers. Long, hot, amazing showers. I was just in the kitchen baking completely by myself. Before, I felt like I needed to be at Jack’s side every second, even when he was sleeping.”
“I was hoping to catch him before he went to bed.” I look over at the stairway, half hoping to see Jack peering at me through the rails, grinning.
“He was tired tonight. Long day.”
“I’m sorry.”
She gives me a half smile and says, “You know how they say when it rains it pours?”
I nod.
“Well, in addition to Jack having a really bad day today, I found out his dad is in prison. Danny is serving a seven-year term that started a year ago.”
>
“Oh, shit. How’d you find out?”
“He emailed me asking for money.”
I arch my brows. “I hope you told him to fuck off.”
“I just deleted the email.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t even deserve acknowledgement. What I’m bummed about is that it means Jack will probably never see him again. And as stupid as this is, I really thought it was Danny who sent that Darth Vader and his team of Stormtroopers. For a stupid, crazy minute, I thought it might even be Danny in that suit.”
I sit up on the coffee table, remembering the Star Wars flash mob in front of my house. “Well, if it wasn’t Danny, then w—” I go completely still.
“What?”
“Team of Stormtroopers,” I murmur. “Holy shit, Carmen.”
“The way they all jogged away in formation like that, it was like—”
“It was like a football team. Because it was a football team.”
“Ryan,” she breathes.
“Ryan.”
She breaks out in a slow, wide smile. “Sienna . . . that man is incredible. If you don’t go to him right now and kiss the hell out of him, I’m going to kick your ass.”
My heart flutters wildly. “Now? But it’s late, and I don’t know where he is, and I look like—” I glance down at my clothes “—hell. I look like hell. Maybe I should just—”
Carmen interjects, looking me square in eyes. “Are you wearing deodorant?”
“I put some on this morning.”
“Then get your keys and go. I’ll find out where Ryan is and text you.”
I furrow my brow. “How can you find out?”
“Coop.”
“Oh.” I’ll have to digest that bit of information later. “Okay.”
“Go.” She gets up and plucks her cell phone from a nearby end table.
“Okay.” I stand up and run a hand over my hair, my blood pumping with excitement and affection for Ryan at the same time.
He was Darth Vader. I feel it in my heart without even getting his confirmation. The things he said to Jack, and the way the Stormtroopers stood in formation, jogging away on his command . . .
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