by Tawna Fenske
He watched her eyes move as she scanned the words. The color drained slowly from her face, and Adam felt his gut clench. “What is it?” he asked again.
“She’s asking me to report to her office at eight-thirty this morning,” Jenna said, moving her finger on the screen to scroll down. “She says it’s an urgent meeting regarding Belmont Health System’s employee fraternization policy.”
A chill snaked down his spine, and Adam forced himself to stay calm. “Is there anything else?”
Jenna nodded, her eyes wide and fearful as they met his. “Yes,” she said. “It’s addressed to both of us.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jenna straightened her skirt, then straightened her spine and took a deep breath. She was five minutes early, but that was better than being on time or late, wasn’t it?
She had no idea. She’d rushed home to shower, donning her best power suit and high heels that pinched her toes. That wasn’t a bad thing. A little discomfort would keep her tough, make her strong enough to do what she had to do.
Her hand was shaking as she reached for the door of the conference room next to Kendall’s office. She willed herself not to cry.
You’re the Chief Relations Officer for a major medical center, she told herself. You worked hard to get here. You can handle this.
She took another deep breath and pushed the door open. Her eyes fell first on Kendall, who was seated primly with her hands folded on the desk in front of her. She wore a black jacket and cat-eye glasses that had slipped a little down her nose. Across from her was Adam, looking clean-shaven and stiff in a dark gray suit.
Beside him sat Mia.
She wore a dark blue maternity dress with her red hair pulled back in a severe chignon. She wasn’t smiling.
“Mia,” Jenna gasped. “What are you—how’s Mark?”
Mia rested one hand on her belly and looked up. Her eyes were red, her expression unreadable. “He’s going to make it,” she said, her voice soft and sandpapery. “The bullet missed a major artery in his leg. He’ll need a few months of physical therapy, but it could have been a lot worse.”
“Oh, thank God.” Jenna felt the tears starting, and willed herself not to let them fall. She’d been here less than ten seconds and she was already crying. Jesus, she’d never make it at this rate.
“Thank you for joining us,” Kendall said, nodding from behind her desk. “Could you please close the door, Jenna?”
“Of course.”
She pushed it shut, then turned to face the room. An empty chair sat between Adam and Mia, and she started toward it. Then she stopped. Clasping her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking, she forced herself to stand straight and tall.
“There’s something I need to say.”
Kendall glanced at Mia, then at Adam. “I’m not really sure it’s necessary for you to—”
“No, I need to say it. In front of everyone—Mia, Adam, you.” She swallowed, surprised to discover her voice was steadier than she expected it to be. She’d spent her whole career perfecting the art of polished presentation, but nothing inside her felt polished anymore. She felt raw and empty and completely unraveled. She took a steadying breath and lifted her chin.
“I’m sorry.” She paused, feeling oddly fortified by that word, so she said it again. “I’m really very sorry. I know I’ve been cavalier with the company’s policy on employee fraternization, and I know I’ve conducted myself in a manner unbecoming to an executive of this organization. I understand if you need to penalize me for it, and I accept the consequences of my actions. But that’s not what I’m most sorry for.”
She took another breath and looked at Mia, willing herself not to fall apart. Not until everything was out on the table. “I’m sorry for any pain I caused you, either by dating your ex-husband, or by hiding that from you. I should have had more faith in the strength of our friendship and in your strength as a person.”
Mia’s eyes held hers, but they’d started to shimmer. It might have been a trick of light, but Jenna didn’t think so. Behind the desk, Kendall opened her mouth to speak, but Jenna held up a hand.
“I’m not done. Please, just let me finish. Mia, I should have trusted you to know better than almost anyone that people can’t always help who they fall in love with. They can’t always control where it happens or whether it’s an inconvenient time or an inconvenient person. But that doesn’t make the love any less valuable or sacred or real.” She cleared her throat, fighting the thickness that made her voice tight and shaky. She stole a glimpse at Adam, steeling herself to say what she needed.
“And the fact of the matter is that I love Adam,” she said. “I love him for the man he is now, and I love him for the man he was when he belonged to you. I love him for who he’ll become tomorrow, which may be a new variation of the same man. But it’s one I’m prepared to appreciate no matter what.”
It was getting harder to get the words out, and she was having a tough time seeing through the tears pooling in her eyes, but she commanded herself to turn and look at him. The force of his gaze locking with hers nearly sent her reeling backward, but it also gave her a fresh surge of power. She took another deep breath.
“Adam, I love you. In case I didn’t make that clear just now.”
He nodded. “I think I got it.” He offered a small smile. “I love you, too.”
“I’m going to screw up. A lot. I won’t always handle things as well as I should, and sometimes I’ll use the wrong words or the wrong coping mechanism or the wrong fork at dinner. But my heart’s in the right place.” She unclasped her hands. “It’s with you.”
He stood up, pushing the empty chair aside. Jenna didn’t need any further encouragement. She stepped into his embrace and felt his arms wrap around her, felt herself sink into his heat and strength and safety. She closed her eyes, hoping like hell this wouldn’t mean the end of her career or the end of her friendship.
Hoping, maybe, it could be the beginning of something new.
Behind them, Mia cleared her throat. “I feel like I’m supposed to applaud or something.”
Jenna drew back, pushing her hair behind her ears. She smoothed her skirt and looked at Mia. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop with the sorry,” Mia said, shifting a little in her chair. “That shit gets old in a hurry. Just ask Adam, he’ll tell you.”
“Yep.” Adam nodded and sat back down. “For once, I’ll have to agree with my ex-wife.”
“I’m making a note of that,” Mia said, and picked up a stack of papers on the desk. “So the real reason I asked everyone to meet this morning was that I’m requesting a change to some corporate policy. Namely, the anti-fraternization rule.”
Jenna blinked. “You requested a rule change?”
“I was actually planning to be circumspect about the reason for the request.” She glanced at Kendall, then back at Jenna. “You kinda fucked that up just now with your little speech. Congratulations, by the way. And you’re forgiven. Not that you need my forgiveness or my blessing.”
Jenna blinked, too stunned to know how to reply. “I need both, actually.”
“Then you’ve got it. Along with my well wishes for dealing with this bastard. You’re going to need it.” She smiled for real then, and Adam smiled, too, a private joke between them that somehow didn’t leave Jenna feeling left out.
“So,” Mia said. “The fraternization rule is bogus, and I’d like to suggest a revision, but since we’ve already got mountains of more important corporate policy to negotiate with the bargaining team, it seemed silly to bring this to the table. I thought this might be better handled within our core group. A group that already dealt with a personnel matter along the same lines just last week.”
Kendall frowned, her cheeks reddening. “How did you know about—”
“Oh, please,” Mia said, waving a dismissive hand. “Everyone knows Brett Lombard has
been mailing photos of his junk to Susan Schrader for months. It’s the worst kept relationship secret in the hospital.”
Adam snorted and glanced at Jenna. “There’s an honor I’m glad we didn’t achieve.”
“Nope, you were actually pretty damn good at hiding yours,” Mia said, “which is the reason I hope we can make this policy change quietly and with as little fanfare as possible.”
Kendall steepled her hands on the desk, and looked down at some papers in front of her. “I’ve reviewed the amendments you’ve suggested, Mia. I appreciate that you’ve taken into consideration our need to address supervisory relationships and situations where a legal conflict of interest might exist, but what you’ve spelled out here seems like a good starting point.”
“Thank you,” Mia said. “My stepfather is an attorney. I was on the phone with him at four o’clock this morning quizzing him about anti-harassment regulations and corporate law. It beat the hell out of thinking about gunshot wounds.”
“I can imagine,” Jenna said, still too stunned to come up with anything smarter. “I don’t understand. Mia, you have every right to hate me right now.”
“I choose not to exercise that right. Hating someone is kind of a pain in the ass, when you get right down to it.”
Adam cocked his head to the side. “You know, all this agreeing with you is starting to freak me out a little.”
“Don’t get too smug about it, ex-husband of mine. There’s actually another ex who gets the credit here.”
Jenna winced. “Sean? God, I need to apologize to him.”
“You do, and you will, because you’re a good person,” Mia said. “But I wasn’t talking about Sean. I’m talking about Ellen.”
“Ellen?” Jenna blinked. “Mark’s ex-wife?”
Mia nodded and pressed a hand into her lower back, wincing a little as she rearranged herself on the hard plastic chair. “She brought Katie to the hospital in the middle of the night to see her father. The shooting was an accident. The cops said so, and Mark agreed. Ellen dropped her purse on the floor and forgot the gun was in there and the whole thing was just one of those stupid moments you watch happening in slow motion and wish like hell you could hit rewind and do it all differently.” Mia shrugged. “I guess I can relate.”
Jenna nodded, feeling the tears prick the backs of her eyes again. “Me, too.”
“Anyway, Ellen and I got to talking,” Mia said. “About regrets and apologies and hate and love and everything in between. We might have swapped recipes for banana bread—the details are a little hazy. But my point is that we connected. For the first time in three years, we saw each other as human beings instead of ‘that bitch.’”
“Wow,” Jenna said, reeling too hard to come up with anything beyond a single syllable.
Beside her Adam was shaking his head. “So you thanked her for shooting your husband, and she thanked you for stealing him, and then you hugged and made up?”
Mia choked out a laugh. “Hardly. But we don’t hate each other anymore. That’s progress. I’ve gotta say—it’s the most free I’ve felt in a long time.”
“Forgiveness will do that,” Adam murmured.
Mia smiled. “And once more, the exes agree on something.”
Behind her desk, Kendall cleared her throat. “I hate to rain on this lovely parade, but I believe there’s still an issue on the table.”
Jenna turned to face her and gave a grim nod. “Right. Uh—even if the fraternization rule changes, I assume there will be a penalty for my failure to follow an existing rule?”
Kendall opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, Mia interrupted.
“The lawyer in the room can correct me if I’m wrong here, but if a company fails to enforce a rule with one employee and then punishes another employee for a similar violation, wouldn’t that second employee have a valid case for legal recourse?”
Adam blinked. “You’re referring to Brett and Susan again?”
“Exactly.”
“Legally, yes. That second employee would have a case.”
“See?” Mia beamed at Kendall. “Looks like I got something from my years of marriage to a workaholic attorney.”
Kendall pressed her lips together. “Perhaps it would be best if we all stop talking about penalties and litigiousness and focus on moving forward in a positive fashion.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Mia smiled and turned back to Adam and Jenna. “So the policy I’m suggesting is commonly known as a ‘Love Contract.’ If a couple employed in the same workplace initiates a consensual relationship, they’ll be provided with documentation on the company’s sexual harassment policy. They’ll also be briefed on regulations concerning public displays of affection and retaliation in the event of a terminated relationship. After all the paper shuffling, they’ll get a contract to sign indicating they’re aware of the rules and promise to abide by them.”
Adam leaned forward, adjusting his tie. “I assume they’ll have the right to consult with an attorney before signing?”
“Of course,” Kendall said. She pushed her glasses up her nose and lifted her chin. “The company I worked for prior to Belmont had an informed consent policy similar to this one. Obviously, this sort of policy requires some very specific language about job performance expectations and the impact of a relationship on the work environment, but I’ve seen similar systems work quite nicely in a corporate setting.”
“Okay then,” Mia said, turning back to Adam. “You’re a lawyer, and you obviously have a vested interest in creating a positive work environment at Belmont. Do you want to be involved in crafting the new policy?”
He nodded, turning to look at Jenna. She felt a flash of heat arc through her as his eyes held hers.
“I do,” he murmured.
“And Jenna,” Mia said shifting again in her chair. “Would you be comfortable with this sort of clause in the company’s policy? Hypothetically speaking, of course, if Adam were to remain attached to Belmont, do you think you’d be willing to sign a document like this?”
Jenna slid her eyes from Adam’s to her best friend’s and back again to his. She nodded. “I do.”
“Well all-righty then,” Mia said, whacking the paperwork on the desk with finality. “By the power vested in me by—well, myself—I now pronounce us a policy revision committee. You may not kiss the co-worker. Not now, anyway.”
“Of course,” Jenna said, her cheeks warming. “Even if PDA weren’t a factor, I wouldn’t dream of disrespecting you by—”
“No, no—that’s not it at all,” Mia said, shifting in her seat again. “You can disrespect me all you want. I kinda like it sometimes, especially if there’s spanking involved.”
Adam grimaced. “That I didn’t need to know.”
“Whatever, lawyer boy. You’re just jealous I never asked you to smack my ass.”
Kendall frowned. “Could we please refrain from—”
“I’ll tell you what I need everyone to refrain from doing,” Mia interrupted, turning to Jenna. “Talking. About anything. Because you know all that shit we were saying about my water breaking at dinner?”
Jenna frowned. “What?”
“I think it just happened. Either that, or I peed myself in the Human Resources office, which wouldn’t be the first time, now that I think about it. So can one of you help me get to the Family Birthing Center? I’d rather not have this baby on a conference table.”
“She’s beautiful,” Adam said.
He watched as his ex-wife looked up and smiled, her red hair tangled and lovely as she cradled the infant tightly in her arms. “Thank you.”
Beside her, Mark leaned forward in his wheelchair and stroked a finger over the baby’s clenched fist. She stirred, offering up a sleepy, sucking noise that made Mark grin and made Adam remember again that he might not hate the guy after all.
&
nbsp; “Would you look at that?” Mark murmured. “Knows her daddy already.”
“Smart girl,” Jenna said, and Adam watched Mia’s gaze slide to her best friend’s. The two women exchanged some sort of unspoken communication, and Adam held his breath, not wanting to break the connection.
“Smart, and very lucky,” Jenna murmured. “To have the two of you as parents. And Katie as a big sister.”
“You got that right.” Katie grinned and bent down to plant a kiss on the baby’s forehead. Then she drew back and looked shyly at Mia. “Want me to run to the cafeteria and grab one of those Snickerdoodles you like?”
Adam watched as Mia’s eyes widened a little with surprise and pleasure. Then a smile broke over her face. “That would be amazing. Grab my name badge out of my purse so you can just charge it to my account. Get one for yourself, too.”
“Okay.” Katie kissed the baby again, then scampered away. “I love you, baby sister,” she called. “And daddy. And Mia.”
“I love you, too,” Mia murmured as Katie bounded out of the room.
Adam slid an arm around Jenna’s shoulders, not sure if it was the right thing to do just then, but knowing it felt good. Sometimes, that was enough. She responded by leaning against him, fitting into the curve of his chest like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there.
Mia smiled at Mark over the top of the baby’s pink knitted cap. “I’m so glad they let you out of the recovery unit for this. It meant a lot having you here for this.”
“You kidding me?” Mark smiled. “I could have had bullet holes in both legs and arms and I still would have found a way to crawl down to the birthing center to be here for this. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
“I’m happy you were able to do it without all the extra bullet holes,” Mia said.
Mark nodded, glancing quickly at Adam and Jenna before leaning forward to touch his wife’s arm. “Look, Mia—I’m sorry about everything. I know I haven’t been there for you like I should be these last couple weeks. I’ve been torn up thinking about how I let Katie down, how I’m not able to be the father I always thought I’d be. But I need to be a good husband, too. I’m going to do better. For you, for Katie, for little Lola here—for all of us.”