“Emily,” I say in surprise, tearing my eyes away from my computer once I sense her presence.
In person, she looks even better than the picture they finally took down from her old job. The straight, dark brown hair once held back by those annoyingly oversized headbands is now cut to her shoulders and parted on one side making her look more mature and sophisticated. The sweaters and tweed jackets straight out of a Ralph Lauren ad have been replaced by a smart suit that is streamlined along her thin, athletic figure.
She smiles, revealing a row of perfectly white, small teeth.
“Your door was open,” she says apologetically. “I thought since I’m the one invading your home turf, I should be the one dropping by to say ‘Hi’ first. I have a break in between orientation. Do you have a moment to catch up?”
For her, of course I do. “Sure. Come in.”
“Looks like we both ended up in New York after all, and at the same firm. Go figure,” she says as she takes one of the chairs across from my desk.
“You deserve to be here as much as me, obviously. I always knew you’d make it to New York, and here you are.”
“And here I am.” she echoes. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you about it before I came. I figured once you saw the notice the firm sent out you’d get in touch with me first.”
“To be honest, I usually glance over those things without paying too much attention.”
She nods with understanding, then tilts her head to give me a sentimental smile. “You look good, Jesse.”
She knows my real name of course, but I went by Jesse all through Harvard and she never considered calling me Giuseppe.
Then again, I also never encouraged her to use it.
Somehow it didn’t feel right.
“You look good too, Emily.”
Suddenly, her brow wrinkles in confusion and she leans in closer to inspect me. “Is that…a pink feather?”
My eyes widen in surprise and I drop them to the point where Emily’s focus is. It’s somewhere near my collar underneath my jaw, so I don’t see anything. Instead, I blindly swipe at it, hoping it falls away on its own.
“No, let me,” Emily says, standing up and rounding the desk to bend in closer.
She reaches out and I feel her fingertips briefly glance across my neck. But what sends a mild tingle through my nervous system is the whisper of something light and fluffy that could only have come from one woman.
Dammit, Honey!
Thank God I didn’t run into Todd, Vaughn, and Andrew this morning. I can only imagine the fun they would have had with this.
Emily pulls back and laughs in bewilderment, giving me a hesitant look as she places it on my desk. “I guess someone left a little souvenir with their goodbye kiss this morning. Better than lipstick on your collar I suppose.”
I hear the tinge of jealousy in her voice and I’m not ashamed to be pleased by it.
Still, I’d rather it wasn’t this, of all the most absurd things, that brought it about.
“It’s not what you think. I have this neighbor who—never mind.”
Emily’s lips twist with uncertain amusement.
I think she’d be less amused if she knew it was someone like Honey that had just made her jealous.
My mind plays back the events of this morning, and I rethink that assumption.
But the point is moot.
After all, Emily is right here in my office only a little more than a foot away, staring down at me with obvious longing.
It’s the perfect opportunity to—
Emily perks up, taking two steps back to widen the distance between us. She coughs to compose herself and circles back to the other side of the desk.
I get it; not in the workplace.
There will be plenty of time to catch up later, maybe with drinks after work. Hell, we could probably pick up right where we left off.
Just looking at her in that suit, how well it fits into this law firm environment is a reminder of why I was with her so long in the first place.
I’d gone to Columbia University prior to Harvard Law, so I didn’t completely feel like a fish out of water by the time I headed up to Cambridge. But up there, I was surrounded by the kind of heavy hitters in life that could make anyone feel like they didn’t belong.
I had the smarts, and eventually the grades and class rank, but I never fully broke out of that poor-boy-from-New-Jersey mold I’d been born into.
Everything about Emily belonged in that environment. From the way she spoke to the clothes she wore, she might as well have been a poster girl for the Ivy League. Her parents were doctors from Connecticut so it was no wonder. She was quick to correct my various faux pas and step in when it was obvious that I was out of my element.
Four years later, I’m finally established enough to have caught up on my own.
“Maybe we could grab a drink after—”
“Listen, Jesse, I should probably tell you—”
We both started and stopped talking at exactly the same time.
Emily’s brow is lifted with anxiety.
Mine is furrowed in confusion.
“I was going to suggest drinks after work, but you go first,” I say warily.
She nods, giving me a sympathetic smile, but for some reason remains silent a moment.
As it lingers, I begin to realize there’s some internal conflict in her head that has her too preoccupied to talk. I cough out a noise and give her a meaningful look.
“Or not?” I hint.
Emily laughs softly and shakes her head as though snapping out of hypnosis. “I’m sorry, it’s just…you. You’re not what I expected.”
That one throws me. I try to study her face to see if that’s a good or a bad thing.
She smiles as though reading my mind.
“I thought by now you’d lose the glasses, but you seriously make them work. Seeing you in your office, you look so damn competent, Jesse. I mean, I always knew you were brilliant but I guess I never knew how it would translate outside of law school. You in that suit…” She allows her eyes to wander down the part of me visible above the desk. “It suits you.”
She laughs at the double phrasing and shifts her gaze to the window behind me.
I like where this is going.
So why the hesitation?
“I thought seeing you would help me realize I was over you but…if anything it makes me think I should have tried harder—we should have tried harder.”
Even more promising.
“We both knew it would be difficult. Long-distance relationships rarely work out,” I say judiciously. No need to sound too eager.
“Yeah,” she says, her eyes falling to the pink feather on my desk.
Despite my irritation with it just a moment ago, for once I’m pleased with Honey’s tendency to leave pink feathers as she flits through life.
“I’m seeing someone, Jesse.”
My eyes flash up from the feather to Emily. I find hers on me, filled with something I can’t quite read. But her words aren’t ambiguous at all.
“He followed me up here and…we live together.”
I fall back in my chair and stare at her, letting that news sink in. It hits hard, mostly because I’d been building this up in my head since I learned she was moving to New York.
“I just didn’t want to lead you on,” she quickly continues. “I shouldn’t have said all the things I did a moment ago, it was stupid—inappropriate.”
I recover quickly, shaking my head dismissively. “No, it was stupid of me to assume you wouldn’t be with someone after so long. If you’re living together it must be serious. Congratulations.”
To my surprise, she coughs out a sardonic laugh, then quickly looks away in embarrassment.
“Am I missing something?”
She shakes her head. “No, you haven’t missed a thing. But…” she considers me for a moment. “Do you ever think about what it would be like if we’d tried?”
Now, I have no idea what
to think.
Where is she going with all of this?
“In the beginning, yes,” I say, just to play along. “But it doesn’t matter now.”
Emily blinks at the bluntness of that statement, but quickly recovers with a nervous laugh. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like Tyler. He works from home, making pretty good money, which is convenient. Especially if I’m going to be working at ABC and we have kids.”
That one stings, and I have a sneaking suspicion she’s not oblivious of that fact.
My parents are far stricter Catholics than I am so I have four brothers and three sisters.
I’ve always known I wanted a big family myself.
In law school, discussions between Emily and I focused mostly on class rank, summer clerkships, making law review, and eventually landing a good job.
The one time the subject of marriage and kids came up, she made it clear that she preferred one, but would grudgingly have two, which was a disappointment.
Now Emily has someone to have those kids with and I don’t.
“I’m sorry. Again, I shouldn’t even have brought up what I did about us trying to make it work. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Who kew we’d end up working at the same firm?” She laughs, but I hear an anxious trill interlaced in it. Her eyes land on me. “Honestly, I would have thought you’d at least be engaged by now.”
Her eyes fall to the pink feather again and I note a slight twist of displeasure on her lips. She smoothes it over like a champ, her eyes coming back up to me with a smile in them.
“But here we are together again.”
I don’t bite.
But I do take note.
Whoever this Tyler is, she isn’t one hundred percent sold on him.
Which means maybe I’m not as shit out of luck as I think. My eyes fall to her left hand—no ring.
Emily Becksworth is still fair game.
“Anyway, I should get going,” Emily says, all business again. She pauses to give me one last smile. “We should definitely catch up, Jesse.”
“We should,” I say, neutrally.
Inside, I feel that bubbling surge of adrenaline hit me as it always does when faced with a challenge or obstacle to overcome. It’s invigorating. I haven’t felt much of one since I joined ABC.
A flicker of a thought hits me as to whether it’s the challenge or the woman that has me pumped with energy.
I quickly dismiss it.
Does it matter?
When Emily is gone, my eyes fall to the tiny pink feather left on my desk. The fact that it lasted on my collar as long as it did—it’s midday now—is irritating.
Even as it sits here on my desk, surrounded by the colorless trappings of corporate law—the desk blotter, my computer, the phone, boring briefs and legal memos, even the post-it notes I use are stark white with the ABC corporate heading on them—the feather is so incongruous it’s surreal.
As though I needed a more obvious contrast between the two women.
I try to picture Honey (Dewberry!) sitting across from me dressed in one of her pink outfits. Or maybe in attendance at one of the events held by the firm.
I’m surprised to find myself somewhat sold on the idea, a begrudging smile coming to my face.
It isn’t that she wouldn’t stand out like a flamingo in a group of eagles (and deliberately so), but she’d probably handle it with nothing but confidence and charm.
Certainly better than I have over the years.
In fact, I’d probably get a kick out of seeing her in action.
I cough and straighten up, already dismissing that idea.
Emily is right here, ripe for the plucking and I’m high enough on the ladder of success for her to be within my reach once again.
So why am I still so tempted by the forbidden fruit that lives across the hall from me?
Chapter Eight
Honey
The party is only a few hours away from starting. Helping me set up are Annabelle, Esmerelda, and Rose—The Girls, as we like to refer to ourselves.
These three work with me at Gideon Theater, and are more than just friends, they’re like my sisters.
Since the crowd for tonight’s party isn’t picky (a far cry from what I’m used to with Francis) setting up has mostly consisted of picking the right song playlists and putting out the snacks.
Everyone coming has been encouraged to bring their own favorite libation of choice to go with the case of champagne I ordered.
The Girls and I are all dressed to the nines, looking glamorous as all get out. We do love to dress up.
I’m in my pink Marchesa gown, the very one Francis bought me for the UNICEF Masquerade Ball. My hair is in a French twist accented by pink filoplume feathers. The dress is pink and ruffled and completely over the top, but then again, this party will soon be filled with people who live for excess—at least as much as they can afford.
Everyone coming tonight is a performer of one kind or another: The Girls, drag queens who are friends of Jerome, and friends from my days at the theater.
Right now, we four Girls are lazing around enjoying a freshly popped bottle of Veuve and having a proper bitch fest. From the speakers, John Newman sings “Love Me Again” set at a low volume.
“So he hasn’t so much as called you since last Monday?” Antoinette’s blue eyes are wide with the same indignation that fills my veins. She shakes her head in disbelief, her platinum blonde waves swishing across her shoulders.
“Well, to be fair, I haven’t called him either,” I point out, even though Antoinette has touched a raw nerve that’s been eating me up for the past seven days.
I did stick to my guns and put Francis out of sight, out of mind until today.
All the better to remind him of what he’s missing.
But is he missing me?
“That’s the sign of a coward—no, un pendejo,” Esmerelda spits, her dark eyes blazing with fire at those choice words. “Why should you be the one to call? You need to find a man who has the cojones to make it clear that you are the one, as opposed to this man-stealing puta.”
She continues on in rapid Spanish that none of us can keep up with, save for a few more very choice words.
“I think we can all get behind that sentiment,” Rose says with sardonic amusement.
Rose has a cynical sense of humor that fits her perfectly into the role of mother hen among the four of us, despite being around the same age. Her red hair and pale skin are highlighted by the emerald green she never ceases to wear even outside of work. Right now she looks like Jessica Rabbit, in sparkling green instead of red.
“Essie’s right, Hon,” Antoinette says, condensing our names the way she does almost everyone. “What kind of man dates another woman while still with you, even if it is fake? Peter would never suggest a such a thing to me.”
Antoinette is the only other member of our quartet who is seriously involved with someone. In her case, it’s a very sweet med school student named Peter who worships the ground she walks on.
Esmerelda keeps a bevy of men at her disposal and will probably never get married, but who knows?
Rose dated an investment banker but ended it last year, which was a surprise. She seemed so happy with him.
“Have we forgotten that tonight is meant to be uplifting?” I remind them. “We’ve spent the past week trash talking him each night, and yes, rightfully so, but tonight I want nothing but love.”
“So find a man who will actually give you love,” Antoinette says.
“Or multiple men,” Esmerelda says, with a grin, lifting her glass of champagne.
“Or at least another obscenely rich man,” Rose says with a dry smile before taking a sip.
“Boy y’all, I’m really feelin’ the love tonight. What about having faith that my man is remaining faithful?”
“But still not calling,” Rose points out with an eyebrow arched.
“Ahem,” I cough out in a pointed way.
“Okay, so no more nasty
words about your cabrón—sorry, tu amor,” Esmerelda says rolling her eyes in exaggeration. “What about this…cocha?”
I give her an exasperated look.
“What? I’m Puerto Rican, I refuse to use the word Muffy. It’s an offense to my heritage.”
“Mine too, and I’m whiter than white,” Rose says with a laugh. “What kind of name is Muffy anyway? It sounds like something my grandmother would call her poodle.”
That gets a small laugh out of us.
“She isn’t even that pretty, at least not as pretty as you, Hon,” Antoinette says.
We’ve all seen the photographs of her. Of course we have. If we weren’t trash-talking my situation with Francis, we were googling her image, me more than anyone.
After all, my Francis moratorium didn’t include ignoring what the competition looked like.
The photo I kept going back to was the most flattering one I could find of Maude, mostly so I couldn’t lie to myself and say she’s hideous. It was a Getty image taken from some outdoor event that was probably labeled a “soiree.” She’s in a sleeveless shift dress that highlights her thin figure, and wearing a jaunty hat with lots of black feathers.
She reminds me of Mary from Downton Abbey, with sharper features, thinner lips, a pointier nose, and shrewd brown eyes. Definitely not the warm and fuzzy type.
And definitely not ugly.
But I’m certainly not going to sully tonight with freshly viewed images of her right before my party.
“Alright, enough Muffy! Is this going to be a party or not?”
“Can it really be one without muff-y?” Rose snarks with a laugh.
We all laugh again.
“Speaking of private parts, a little birdie told me the boy next door is set to make an appearance? A Jesse?” Rose says.
“I see Jerome has been spreading the news,” I reply twisting my lips into a wry smile.
“Oh, is he cute?” Antoinette asks with excitement filling those wide blue eyes.
I secretly smile behind my coupe of champagne, which has all of them riled up.
“I’ll just be happy if he’s not gay. This party will have enough of that,” Esmerelda grouses.
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