Undone

by Kelly Rimmer

  He isn’t talking about Abby, and there’s no need for him to identify the “she” in question. It’s the same woman he was worried about last night. The same woman who slept in my arms. The same woman who is so stubborn she still drives me crazy just about every time I speak to her.

  “She had her moments, but in the end, she was amazing.” I clear my throat, then look at him, signaling that I know. “Considering everything.”

  “Did she talk to you?”

  “Yeah. Some.”

  “Stubborn mule, that woman,” Mitch mutters. I tilt my beer toward him.

  “That is the understatement of the century.” I glance at him curiously. “When did she tell you?”

  “I’m not even sure. Six or seven years ago?” he sighs, scratching his cheek. “Maybe longer. My agent’s Christmas party, I think. I was drunk and babbling about my college girlfriend. Jess was drunk and babbling about some dude she was with back in Georgia—just . . . babbling shit about what an asshole he was, I guess. I don’t think she meant to tell me about the baby, to be honest. I think it all just spilled out.” He sighs heavily. “Turns out the party was on her son’s birth date. I don’t even know why she agreed to come with me. I guess she didn’t want to let me down.”

  “That sounds like Jess,” I murmur, thinking of last night, and her stubborn determination to be there for Abby, at significant cost to herself. I hadn’t even wondered about her baby’s father. If Jess was eighteen when she had her son, it was probably her high school boyfriend. I take another sip of the beer, pondering this.

  “Has . . .” I hesitate, then glance at him. “Has she been okay otherwise? Since we broke up?”

  “Jake Winton, I’ve told you before. You won’t breach the impenetrable no-man’s-land that is my relationship with you and Jess, so stop asking.”

  I laugh softly. Poor Mitch has had a starring role in the drama of Jake and Jess over the years. He was one of the only people in the world who even knew we’d fallen in love in the first place. And I have asked him that very same question more than once over the last two and a half years. He always deflects it the same way, but now, he sighs and says, “She’s been kicking ass at work with your brother. She’s dated a bit, but not nearly as much as she wants people to believe. Says she has a reputation to uphold but I’m not really sure what that means. How about you?”

  “I just don’t understand her,” I mutter, then I exhale. “I never have.”

  “I mean, how have you been? Because I didn’t actually invite you to dinner so we could cry into our beer and talk about Jess all night,” Mitch says, eyes twinkling with mirth.

  I laugh and scoop up the menu. I’m suddenly ravenous, so hungry I want to order everything on the menu and devour all of it.

  “Sorry, I’ve been good. Surfing, hiking, a bit of mountain biking. Work is good.”

  “Jess said you’re living with someone?” Mitch says, eyebrows high.

  “I am living with someone.” I shrug, then I grin. “Her name is Clara.”

  Mitch bursts out laughing.

  “She thought Clara was a human female?”

  “I may have accidentally deliberately given her that impression at Paul’s rehearsal dinner.”

  “You two are as bad as each other,” Mitch laughs softly. “Are you dating?”

  “Not since Vanessa,” I say, then I try to change the subject. “By the way, I figured out your pen name.”

  Mitch quirks an eyebrow.

  “Did you, now?”

  “You’re George R. R. Martin, aren’t you? You don full movie-style costume for public appearances.”

  He throws back his head and laughs.

  “Dude, not even close.”

  “Right genre, though?”

  “I’m not answering that.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me?”

  “I’ll tell you after I tell my mother.”

  “But Jess knows.”

  “Of course Jess knows. She manipulated it out of me because she’s an evil mastermind, which you, Jake Winton, are not.”

  BY 5:30 P.M., I’M in a car on my way to JFK, trying not to think about the miles that will soon stretch between me and Jess.

  I have to pick up a new sleeping bag before I leave tomorrow.

  I wonder what she’s doing now. Fuck, I hope she’s okay.

  I’ll make a list of supplies on my phone on the flight.

  Did she really say she regretted what happened between us?

  I can’t wait to wind down once I get out there.

  She did say she regretted that we didn’t have more time. She said she missed me.

  Did I remember to organize Reba to stay with Clara for the whole time?

  I regret it too, Jess. More than anything. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for another chance.

  Traffic is a bitch even on a Sunday night, and Jared, the driver of this Uber, is apologizing profusely as we crawl toward JFK, as though he’s personally responsible for the dismal state of New York City traffic. I dismiss his apologies a few times, but then he mentions he’s driving the car to put himself through community college because he wants to be a teacher. The next thing I know we’re in a full-on conversation, and he’s almost distracted me from the fact that it feels completely fucking wrong to be leaving Jess behind and flying home.

  Jared pulls the car into the drop-off lane and as I put my hand on the door handle, I have a stunning, startling moment of clarity.

  She misses us. I miss us. She wishes we’d found a way to keep seeing one another. Maybe that means we still can.

  “Jared,” I say as he reaches to pop the trunk so I can get my suitcase out. “Change of plans. I need to go back to Manhattan.”

  “Don’t you have a flight?”

  “I just realized that I have unfinished business here.”

  I slide my phone from my pocket. Five minutes later I’ve spoken with Reba the dog behavioralist, booked a hotel for two weeks and let my dad know I’ve decided to stay.

  I load Jess’s contact onto the screen of my phone, and my finger hovers over the call button. I’m impatient to talk to her and to tell her I’ll be in town a little longer, but I’m exhausted, and I can only assume Jess is feeling even worse.

  This conversation needs to take place in person, tomorrow when we’re both rested. I slide the phone back into my pocket, and despite my exhaustion, I’m suddenly feeling a renewed sense of hope.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jess

  I HATE MONDAY mornings as a general rule but this one feels particularly brutal. Maybe it’s because I’m now staring down the barrel of two weeks with Paul out on his honeymoon, and at least eight weeks with Marcus working at a reduced capacity. We’d planned that he’d take a week off after the birth and then basically do his best until he was ready to come back full time, but no one expected that his welcome to fatherhood would be quite so dramatic.

  It’s not like the company isn’t ready for all of this upheaval. Paul’s promoted Audrey so she’s going to run his department while he’s out, Marcus has prepared his team to pretty much run itself, and Kiah, my operation’s manager, is ready to step up and take on even more responsibility if I have to leap over and get stuck in the weeds of what’s happening with their teams.

  But in the midst of all of this, I still have to figure out what the fuck to do about our Silicon Valley office. It’s a smaller team, and our corporate strategy calls for it to scale the fuck up. I’ve been reluctant to do that for far too long because the staffing and the culture just aren’t right and I’m nervous that expanding things there will only make the problem worse.

  I’ve been working with some top-tier consultants over the last six months, trying to get our company ready to list it on the stock exchange. That engagement ended a few weeks ago with a very disappointing presentation from their consulting team.

  You have 8 percent of the market share in corporate America, but less than 1 percent of tech companies in North America are using
your software. That’s a problem, because when a financial adviser wants to know how hot a tech stock is, she’s going to call her tech clients, and when she asks about Brainway Technologies, the chances are her clients aren’t going to know who you are, let alone add to the buzz you need to get an optimum initial share price. If you try to go public before you fix that problem, you’ll be throwing millions of dollars down the drain.

  I threw their very expensive report into the bottom drawer of my desk because I had the takeaway committed to memory: we’re close, but Jess needs to woman up and get her ass to Palo Alto to fix the West Coast office and do some networking because until she does, the whole company is stuck treading water.

  We need the initial public offering to raise funds to expand into the Euro market, which is the logical next step for us. And networking is definitely my superpower, so this problem should be easy to solve.

  If Jake had moved to Chicago or to Denver or to the moon, I’d already be in Palo Alto. His new address is the sole reason I’ve spent the bare minimum time there in the last two years, and the sole reason I haven’t been working at least part-time from that office since the consultant’s engagement began. I’ve always put the company above my own needs but this time, I just couldn’t convince myself to do what needed to be done.

  I don’t think Marcus and Paul even realize how badly I’m letting them down, but I do. The knowledge of it sits in my gut like a stone every fucking day.

  “Now you look like a woman who needs some caffeine,” an all-too-familiar voice announces as soon as I step out from my apartment building’s lobby onto the street. I startle and turn to find Jake standing right there on the sidewalk, with a large take-out coffee cup in each hand. He’s wearing the T-shirt I wore on Saturday night with a pair of jeans. In the cool morning light, the silver in his hair is a little more obvious.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” I ask him blankly.

  He offers me a coffee, and I take it greedily, even as I’m staring at him in disbelief. Jake shrugs.

  “I canceled my hike. Decided to stick around so I can spend some time with Dad and Elspeth.”

  “So . . . if you’re in the city to see your dad and his girlfriend, why are you standing in front of my building like a creeper at 7:45 a.m. on a Monday morning?” I ask him. He grins, the smile transforming his features in a way that makes my heart dance. God, that blunt jaw and chin still get to me, even after all of this time.

  “You’re unpredictable in every way except one—you always leave your apartment at exactly this time.”

  “I do,” I concede. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

  “I miss you,” he says simply.

  Shit, Jake. Don’t make me put us both through this again.

  “We both know it’s for the best,” I say, raising my chin.

  “Dad’s getting older, and I see him for maybe a week a year at the moment. What happened with Abby and Marcus really reminded me that life is just too short, you know?”

  I drag my gaze back to him and nod, my throat tight.

  “I get that.”

  “Well, before we were . . . whatever we were . . . we were friends.”

  “Frenemies,” I correct him, and he laughs softly.

  “Yep, that too.”

  “And are you a creeper to all of your frenemies?” I ask him, motioning toward the pavement with my spare hand. It’s only two blocks to my office, which is exactly why I bought this particular condo. But I like to be at my desk by 8:00 a.m., so I need to get going. Jake gets it—he falls into step beside me, walking in slow motion with those incredibly long legs, which is just about normal pace for me.

  “It might surprise you to hear this, but you’re my only frenemy,” Jake tells me.

  “I feel so special.”

  “Let’s hang out while I’m in town,” he says, and I knew this was coming the minute I saw him standing there, but even so, my heart does a triple somersault, then sinks to my toes.

  “Are you doing this because you think I’m emotionally fragile and need to be babysat?”

  Jake nearly chokes on his coffee. He gives me an incredulous look.

  “Jess. No one—ever in the history of the world—has ever thought you were emotionally fragile.”

  “Well, now,” I scold him lightly, “you know that’s not exactly true. You were there on Saturday night.”

  “I saw vulnerability. I didn’t see an ounce of fragility,” he murmurs, voice low.

  “Please, Jake.” I roll my eyes at him. “I’ll forgive you for being a stalker because you brought me coffee, but you can cut the bullshit.”

  He grins, and we walk in silence for a moment while I try to wrap my head around this latest, shocking development in the apparently never-ending saga of Jake and Jess.

  “What exactly are you proposing here?”

  “I enjoy your company.”

  “And I enjoy yours, but—”

  “Let’s just spend a couple of weeks together,” he interrupts me. “I’m here. You’re here.” He drops his voice. “We both regret the way things ended. So let’s just enjoy a few more days together. It’s doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”

  I stop walking and turn to him, frowning.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? To randomly spend two more weeks with me?”

  It’s what I want. Two more weeks with Jake? Yes please. But I hurt him once before, and I’ll be fucked if I’m going to do that again. If he really wants to do this, he has to be sure he’s okay with a hard full stop on the end of this new dalliance.

  He shrugs nonchalantly.

  “I’m here anyway. Paul’s away on his honeymoon and Dad goes to bed at 8:00 p.m. Someone has to entertain me.”

  “So what, you’re just going to turn up at my building every morning with a coffee delivery, then walk me to work?” I ask skeptically. Then I pause. “Actually, you know what? That does sound pretty good.”

  Jake laughs. God, I love that sound—deep and mellow, carefree and strong.

  “I was thinking we could hang out a bit when you’re not at work, and just . . . you know. Play it by ear.” Well, that’s a euphemism if I ever heard one. I am surprised that Jake would suggest a temporary reunion like this, but I’m not at all unhappy about it. I feel something light inside—like he’s just suggested we take a vacation together.

  Which he kind of has. The next few weeks will be stressful at work, but I know just the way to relieve some of that pressure and there’s never been anyone who can push my buttons in bed the way Jake can. I shiver a little in anticipation, then flash him a grin.

  “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight for dinner?”

  We pause at the entrance to my office building. I glance around, just to be sure none of my staff happens to be passing by, and then I reach up on my tippy-toes and kiss his cheek.

  “See you tonight, then,” I say, smiling to myself.

  The day has taken an unexpectedly fantastic turn. After all, he’s just offered pretty much everything I ever wanted: Jake Winton, with no strings attached.

  When I get to my floor, I find my assistant, Gina, is already at her desk. She smiles at me.

  “I heard the news. Big weekend for the company directors.”

  “You have no idea,” I mutter, but I have a mental to-do list, and I need to get started if I’m going to be done by eight. “Gina, I need you to do something for me—drop everything else on your schedule, and do whatever you have to do to get me on the phone with Cindy Lang.”

  I’m a woman who keeps her promises, and no one messes with my friends. By 10:00 a.m., I’ve had a very enlightening conversation with the CEO of Abby’s hospital, and Doogie Howser the Second is about to have a very bad day.

  I TAKE A lunch break—not part of my regular day, given Gina usually brings a salad to my desk at 1:00 p.m., but today, I promised I’d visit Abby.

  “Hey there,” I
greet her as I stick my head into her room. Marcus is asleep on a sofa in the corner, and Abby is sitting up in bed, looking down at her phone. When she sees me, a big grin transforms her face.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the lady of the hour.”

  “Uh, pretty sure you’re the lady of the hour,” I say wryly as I take the seat beside her bed.

  “I had a visit earlier from the manager of the emergency department, who came to apologize and let me know that that idiot resident is being disciplined for what happened when we first came in,” Abby says quietly. “But I’m sure you don’t know anything about that.”

  I shrug.

  “It had to be done and you guys have enough to juggle without fighting bigotry too.”

  “Thank you. We haven’t even had time to think about making a complaint. I really appreciate it.”

  “Anytime. You know that bitching at people is my specialty. I’m glad I could put my skills to good use.”

  “Also, random question,” Abby says suddenly. I look at her, and she gives me a confused smile. “You and Jake. I asked you in the car on Saturday morning and you said nothing was going on.”

  “Nothing is going on.”

  “You’re sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Let’s call it a mother’s instinct,” Abby tells me sagely, and I roll my eyes at her. “I was pretty out of it yesterday, but I distinctly remember a vibe between you two. Also, Jake just came to visit us and let slip he’s skipping his hike to stay in town for two weeks. Oh, and Marcus told me he saw you two holding hands down in the NICU.”

  I scowl at my sleeping business partner. It’s hard to be mad at him when he looks so exhausted and vulnerable, but I manage.

  “Your fiancé is a dreadful gossip.”

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Abby says, shrugging, then wincing as she tenderly rubs her stomach.

  “Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?” I ask her skeptically. She grins.

  “Well, I did nearly die on Saturday so . . .”

  “Too soon, Abby. Way too soon. And nothing is going on. Jake and I do have a weird vibe. I’m not surprised you’re confused.”