by Holly Rayner
She stood there, daring him to say another word.
But more than daring. Wishing. Waiting.
Because if he fell to his knees, if he groveled enough and was fervent enough with his promises to do better, there was a slight chance she would fall for it. She would say “okay” and try again.
It was what the old Adison always did. She gave people far too many chances and put herself through hell, all in the pursuit of fantasies that probably never had the potential of turning into realities.
Look where that had gotten her.
Well, not anymore.
“Adison…”
She slammed the door behind her, taking a modicum of satisfaction from the noise. Screw him. Screw all of this.
Even so, that didn’t stop her from sobbing the whole drive back to Corinne’s.
Chapter 3
Adison
Adison filled her coffee mug halfway, then poured nearly as much vanilla creamer into it. Usually, sugar was one of the things she was strict with herself about. The last few days, though, she’d let her consumption of it slide.
Along with her consumption of wine and reality TV.
Taking a seat at the table in the Montoya Foundation’s break room, she sipped her coffee and stared glumly out the window. It was her third cup of the morning, and she felt nowhere close to awake.
After fleeing the duplex with nothing other than Taffy and a small suitcase, she’d ended up at Corinne’s. What followed was about twelve hours of tears and self-hatred.
How had she not seen the signs before? Danny was so aloof, and she’d always had this or that excuse for it. She hated him for what he’d done, but she hated herself almost as much for willingly staying blind.
Pity parties had their places, though. She’d been through worse, and that’s how she knew she was not only a survivor, but a thriver. The next day, Friday, she’d gone to the house with Corinne and retrieved the rest of her things while Danny wasn’t there. She and Danny had texted a bit about logistics, but they hadn’t spoken since she’d left her key at the house.
And she didn’t know if they would ever speak again.
Which broke her heart a little. As awful of a person as Danny had ended up being, Adison disliked animosity. She couldn’t switch her heart lever that quickly. As a result of such an abrupt change, she’d been left in shock.
Shock. That was another heavy emotion she’d survived.
The call four years ago had brought her to her knees. Her parents were dead, gone thanks to a drunk driver who plowed into them on a dusky, late October evening.
They’d been Adison’s only family, her best friends. She hadn’t thought she would be able to survive losing them. Yet, day by day, she had.
Which was how she knew a boy breaking her heart—and Danny was nothing more than a little boy—wouldn’t be her undoing. Nothing would be her undoing.
She did need time to heal, though. To process. To indulge herself.
Which is what the ample creamer was all about.
The door to the break room opened, and Adison glanced over, expecting either one of her colleagues she’d already met or one that she hadn’t yet become acquainted with. It was neither. The boss himself, Ken Montoya, sauntered in.
Adison choked on her coffee. A bit of it dribbled down her chin, and she grabbed one of the paper napkins from the center of the table to dab at her face.
Mr. Montoya slowed slightly, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Did she still have coffee on her face? She touched the corner of her lips, cringing inwardly. She didn’t know why his entrance had shocked her so much. She guessed she hadn’t expected the head honcho to haunt his employees’ break room. Surely he had his own space to relax in.
Mr. Montoya opened a cabinet, took down a mug, and poured himself some coffee. It was another oddity. She knew for a fact that he had an assistant who could do things like fetch coffee.
Maybe he enjoyed socializing with his staff. Maybe he was just a good, attentive boss.
Too bad that at the moment Adison felt she possessed the social skills of a rock.
She pretended to be interested in something on her phone, while really waiting for him to leave the break room.
“How are you?” he asked.
She dragged her eyes away from the screen. He hadn’t left at all. Instead, he leaned against the counter, one hand gripping the edge of it while he held his coffee in the other hand.
“I’m…good.” The words sounded disingenuous. Because they were.
“How was your weekend?” He blinked, lashes so long they nearly kissed his cheekbones.
Had he heard something?
No, of course not. She was being paranoid, and she hadn’t told anyone at work about her breakup. She barely knew anyone at the Montoya Foundation, though everyone so far had been nice.
“It was…eventful.” She forced a smile. “I’m moving into a new apartment this week.”
“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows and sipped his coffee. “That’s nice.”
“What about you? How was your Thanksgiving?”
“I don’t celebrate it.”
“Um…”
She’d never met an American who didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. His response had definitely piqued her interest, but was it appropriate to dig for more info?
Mr. Montoya cleared his throat. “Well, see you later.” He raised his coffee cup in cheers and left the break room.
Adison let out the breath she’d been holding.
What was that?
He’d been so stiff, like he didn’t want to talk to her but was pushing himself to. Perhaps he had some guilt over their first meeting, when he’d looked so perturbed.
He shouldn’t be. She hadn’t thought about it since this very moment, on account of other things occupying her mind.
With a sigh, she pushed her chair out. Time to get back to work.
After she clocked out for the day, she and Corinne were going shopping for curtains and rugs for the new apartment. Adison already had a used couch that Corinne’s neighbor had given her. As far as a bed, she would have to make do on an air mattress until she got hold of the real deal.
When she’d moved in with Danny, she’d sold all her furniture. That meant she now had to go back to furnishing a home from the bottom up.
It was a rocky start, but it was also a fresh one.
She walked back to her cubicle, surveying the open space for any signs of Mr. Montoya. The double doors that led to his assistants’ desks, and then his offices, were closed; he was nowhere to be seen.
She felt a little more than disappointed over his disappearance. She wished she’d made more of an effort at their conversation. Despite her personal issues, she wanted to make a good impression on the new job.
Oh, well. There was always next time.
As Adison settled into her work, she found herself hoping next time came sooner rather than later.
Chapter 4
Ken
Something had to be wrong with him.
Not enough sleep? Had he forgotten to put his vitamin mix in his smoothie that morning? Sometimes that messed with his head.
No, it was none of those things, Ken decided as he squeezed a stress ball in his palm and stared out the windows situated behind his desk.
He’d spent part of the weekend regretting his inability to give Adison Hale a warm welcome the week before. In between getting a head start on the foundation’s yearly report, endless emails, and a shift at the food bank, Adison had been on his mind.
She was a pretty young woman, with strawberry-blond hair, big blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose, but it hadn’t been her looks that cemented her presence in his mind. Rather, it was his behavior around her.
Ken was far from what you would call a people person, but he usually managed to put on an act when it came to business. Adison’s decorations had shocked him, though. Not until he saw her bright
ornamentation had he realized there hadn’t been holiday decorations at the Montoya Foundation in…
Years.
Wait. Maybe never?
When asked, he didn’t keep his distaste of the holidays a secret, but it wasn’t until he saw Adison’s cheer that he realized other staff members probably would have liked to decorate the office. They weren’t, though. Because they were trying to appease him?
Ken sighed. The last thing he wanted to be was a ruthless dictator. Still, he liked keeping things standard around the office, with nothing to upset the regular routine. Life was more predictable that way, and a man such as himself thrived on predictability.
And so he’d done what he could to extend an olive branch. Adison, for her part, hadn’t seemed to notice. He’d glimpsed bags under her eyes and a slouch in her shoulders that hadn’t been there the week before.
Something was bothering her, and even though it had been twenty minutes since their run-in in the break room, he found he couldn’t stop wondering just what it was.
His desk phone rang, startling him.
“Yes?” he answered on speaker.
“Mr. Montoya,” Aaron, one of his assistants, said. “Ms. Sorentis is here.”
Shoot. Ken had nearly forgotten about his eleven o’clock meeting.
“Thank you,” he said. “Send her directly in, please.”
He only had to wait a few seconds before the door to his office opened and a lithe woman with a short black bob and red lipstick entered the office.
Ken stood, going around his desk to shake her hand. “Miss Sorentis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The same here.” She smiled, but her eyes were calculating, studying him and taking him in.
“Please, have a seat.” He gestured at the plush chairs in the corner, which were much more comfortable than the ones situated at his desk.
“Thank you.” She settled in, crossing her legs and sitting with her back ramrod straight.
Thea Sorentis worked for one of the largest medical supply distributors on the East Coast. Ken had gotten in touch about their possibly donating some supplies to his foundation. Instead of a direct and prompt yes or no, they’d sent Thea over.
“I hope you found the offices all right,” he said. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”
Coffee made him think of Adison, sitting in the break room cradling a cup of joe like it was her lifeline. He blinked, pushing away thoughts of her just in time to catch Thea’s response.
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” She cleared her throat delicately. “Mr. Montoya—”
He cut in, “Please. Ken.”
There was a brief pause as if she were considering how to respond, and then she smiled. “Ken. I wanted to come down here today and get to know you personally.”
He crossed his legs, several questions flitting through his mind. All of which he kept checked.
Typically, if companies were capable of donating something to the Montoya Foundation, they did so with little hesitation. Not only was Ken’s organization well-known for its work in multiple areas, but a donation to the Montoya Foundation upped any company’s reputation.
Of course, he didn’t say any of that. He didn’t want it to look like he had a big head or expected Thea to immediately give him all the temperature scanners and prescription dispensers he had asked for.
“I appreciate that.” He spread his hands. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything you like.”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I am wondering about something, and perhaps it seems rather arbitrary, but…”
“Shoot.” He leaned forward.
“There are no holiday decorations up in the Montoya Foundation.”
He blinked, startled into silence. It was about the last comment that he had expected, and yet it was also ironic, considering he had been thinking about the same thing only a few minutes ago.
Ken cleared his throat, trying to decide best how to proceed. Before he got the chance, though, Thea spoke up.
“Quite honestly,” she said, “the lack of decorations probably wouldn’t have occurred to me if it weren’t for the one cubicle that had things on it.”
He knew the exact cubicle she spoke of: Adison’s.
“That’s Adison Hale,” Ken said. “Our newest employee. As you saw, I don’t discourage my employees from decorating. Everyone is free to adorn their working spaces as they choose, assuming nothing goes against company policy.”
“Of course.”
She probably noticed that he’d said he didn’t discourage decorating, not that he encouraged it. He didn’t get why it was such a big deal, though. Plenty of companies didn’t decorate.
He imagined.
Now that he thought of it, every office he’d ever visited in the November and December months had had some kind of decorations up. When his office manager had mentioned their doing the same the year before, after he’d moved the Montoya Foundation from Manhattan to Buffalo, he’d automatically said no. Let other people go crazy about Christmas. It simply wasn’t for him.
He’d never expected that to come back and bite him in the butt.
“It’s not that I completely hate the holidays,” he said. “We do other things at the Montoya Foundation to celebrate them rather than decorate.”
Her eyebrows rose from pleasant surprise. “Really?”
Shoot. Why had he said that? It wasn’t true at all, and Ken abhorred lying unless it was for a good cause.
Was this for a good cause? He needed that donation, and if the talks with Woolridge Medical Supplies fell through, it would be weeks before he could get any other supplier to even talk with him. He knew how little people wanted to do around the holidays.
Thea was testing him. When she’d walked into his office, she’d said she wanted to get to know him personally. Clearly, she had high expectations. If he didn’t mean them, he was back to square one.
And so he lied. For the greater good.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, we’re having a big Christmas party this year. I would love for you to attend.”
She cocked her head, her eyes softening. “Oh really? What day is it?”
Despite his always keeping his office on the cooler side, Ken was sweating bullets. “That hasn’t been nailed down yet,” he said. “I will have one of my assistants send you an invitation as soon as we know, though.”
“Great. Do let me know as soon as you can, as I would very much like to be there.”
“Of course,” he said. “Consider it done.”
An alarm went off on her phone, and she reached into her purse to silence it. “I’m sorry, but I do need to run. I have another meeting to get to.”
“Of course.” He stood and offered his hand for a shake. “Thank you for coming by.”
He kept the pleasant demeanor going until Thea left his office. Once the door closed behind her, he bit back a curse and rubbed his face.
Okay. A Christmas party. Last minute. He could do this.
Not on his own, though. He’d require some serious help.
Chapter 5
Adison
“What do you think, girl? You like it?” Adison plopped the pink cat bed down in a sunny spot on the living room floor. She’d picked it up for Taffy, along with a couple new toys and some catnip, thinking the gifts might soften the shock of moving twice in one week.
Just a few days after moving into Corinne’s place, she and Taffy had moved into a one-bedroom apartment in the same complex—which just so happened to be in the same building they’d moved out of months before.
Adison was doing her best to not feel like she was walking backwards in life. So things hadn’t worked out with Danny. She still had a new, promising job, her sweet cat, and friends. In the darker moments, though, she lamented that she was thirty-one and had yet to have a serious, mature relationship with a man. When she looked back, all she saw was a long string of liars, deadbeats, and narcissists.
But having a guy in your life wasn
’t everything, and she had so much going for her. Adison was in her prime, and she knew it. She needed to focus on all the wonderful things.
Taffy crept up to the pink kitty bed and sniffed it cautiously. After some consideration, she chose a spot in the sun next to the bed and settled in for a nap there.
“You’ll warm up to it,” Adison promised her.
The front door opened, Corinne pushing it with her back. Adison jumped to standing and helped her with the plastic bags heaped with Chinese food.
“Aw, you put the bed down.” Corinne nodded at it.
“She hasn’t warmed up to it yet.” Adison set the bags on the island that separated the small living room from the even smaller kitchen. The place was cozy, but it didn’t feel like home yet.
Nowhere really ever felt like home.
Her stomach hardened. She hated thoughts like that, which was why she always reminded herself that home wasn’t a place. It was people. It was purpose.
“I’m so glad I have you,” she said, wrapping both arms around Corinne.
Her friend squeezed her back without a moment of hesitation. “Ditto.”
“And thank you for picking up dinner.” Adison’s stomach was already rumbling. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she smelled the egg rolls and fried rice.
“No problem. Although it just occurred to me that we need to get you a table to eat at, or at the very least some stools for the counter. The consignment store should have some good ones. Maybe we can go on Saturday.”
“That’s a great idea! I’m free.” Adison opened the fridge and got them both a can of sparkling water while Corinne took a blanket from the linen closet and spread it on the hardwood floor.
Of the many reasons to be grateful for the new job at the Montoya Foundation, the comfortable pay was high up there. Her first check would be coming in about a week, and without it Adison wouldn’t have been able to move into her own place so quickly.
They settled cross-legged on the blanket, the to-go boxes open between them and Taffy skirting around the perimeter, sniffing at the smell of meat. Behind Corinne, the curtains for the living room and bedroom sat folded in a pile. Other than that, it was only the couch and a TV, which sat on the floor in the room.