by Ava Claire
“I want to see the floor they film PR on,” Mom chirped excitedly as she stepped into the elevator. “There’s that girl with the thick accent and the attitude--”
“Missy Diaz?” I said, not wanting to hit the fifth floor button. Not wanting to introduce my mother to the woman who made my working life miserable.
“That sounds right,” she said, jittery with excitement. “And the older women, Claudia Joy?”
I relented and punched the button for Mrs. Joy alone. After all of her help with the photo situation, I owed her another thank you. And she was technically my only friend in this high rise building.
The doors retracted when we stopped at the fifth floor and my mother hesitated like she’d snuck past security into some red zone and at any moment, people with guns would rush in and carry her away.
It was adorable.
I stepped out of the elevator, putting my arm out to keep it from shuttling her to another floor. “It’s okay, Mom.”
Her mouth spread into a smile of awe as she moved out beside me, scanning the place she’d only seen on television. People bustled past, not doing anything remotely glamorous, but in my mother’s eyes, she was on the red carpet.
She gripped my arm as Missy came out of one of the private offices on the wall. Her gaze narrowed over the bullpen, clearly looking for someone that wasn’t working at a fevered pace. When her dark stare made its way to where I stood, she scowled--until she cut to Mom. Her eyes went back and forth between the two of us, weighing our similarities and when she figured it out, she smiled like she’d just won the lottery.
Great. She was coming over.
“Leila!” Missy gushed, flipping her mahogany hair over her shoulder. “To what do we owe this honor?” She didn’t even wait for me to respond. “It’s so great to see you!”
Great to see me? I thought, eyebrows perking. Why was she so happy to see me?
It took less than a second for me to answer the question. Mom was shaking her hand like she was meeting a celebrity and Missy was eating it up. I wanted to tell her that Missy wasn’t what she seemed, but I knew that would just make things worse for me.
“Miss Montgomery, Leila is such a great addition to our team,” Missy said effusively. “She has such poise, grace and tenacity.”
“That’s my Leila,” Mom beamed. She took a step back, peering at Missy with her head tilted to the side. “You and Leila are close then?”
Missy lied as easily as breathing. “Of course.”
“Hmm.” Mom stroked her chin. “I thought it was just TV, but you’re a horrible liar in person too.”
Just when you think you know what to suspect, people can surprise you.
I pressed my fingertips against my lips, stifling the laugh that I knew was coming. Missy was genuinely flabbergasted.
Mom looked past Missy, craning her neck like she was looking for someone important. “Could you take me to Mrs. Joy’s office, Leila? I’m dying to meet her.”
I could barely keep the smile off my face now as we sidestepped a stewing Missy. “Right this way.” Once we were out of hearing range I whispered, “I thought you were a fan of hers?”
“Please,” Mom scoffed. “She’s such a witch to her poor staffers. I was going to be cordial though--until I saw the way she looked at you.”
Oh God...she was really going to make me cry. I thought about Missy, Natasha, anything to make me angry and remember why I couldn’t show an ounce of weakness around these people. I saw Claudia’s office, shining like some light at the end of the tunnel and that did the trick.
Claudia was curled up in her armchair, her laptop on a sleek lap apparatus, a cup of coffee in hand.
I tapped on the door and she looked up, smiling brightly when she made eye contact.
“Leila!” Claudia noticed my mother beside me. “And who’s this?”
“This is my mother, Cheryl Montgomery,” I answered. “She was in the neighborhood--”
“And I just had to meet you!” Mom didn’t even wait for an invitation before she pushed into Claudia’s office.
Claudia put aside her mug and laptop and extended her hand. Mom shook it so hard that I was surprised she didn’t snap Claudia’s arm right off.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, taking a step forward. “She just wanted to say hello. She’s a big fan of PR.”
Claudia chuckled good-naturedly, holding my mother’s hand in both of hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine!” Mom grinned, still staring at Claudia like she was the second coming of Christ. “I know Lay really looks up to you.”
My cheeks tingled with embarrassment. It was true, but oh my gosh...
“Well your daughter is pretty amazing in her own right. She’s been an indispensable resource on several cases.” Claudia glanced at me, her eyes warm. “I can’t wait until she becomes a member of the PR team.”
I felt the burn of tears in my throat. It meant so much coming from her. Sure, Jacob had said the exact same thing for months now; that I deserved to do more than arrange his calendars and be the woman behind the man. But hearing it from Claudia…it was just different. Of course parents tell their children they’re awesome. Of course significant others support their other halves. But Claudia had nothing to gain by saying that I was great at my job and that she thought I’d excel doing my dream job.
“Well, we’ll let you get back to work.” It was my mother that steered me from the office and back to the elevator. I didn’t even care that Missy was glaring at us, probably planning something especially terrible. Bring it on. Not even she could bring me down right now.
We shuttled up to our final destination and I sniffled, remembering Natasha. But I didn’t have to pretend we could stand each other because she was away from her desk.
“So this is the executive floor.” I said, turning to my mother.
“Everything is so sleek and polished!” she gasped, taking it all in, turning in a circle.
I recalled the day of my interview, drinking in the building with the same awe she had etched all over her face. Working here, day after day, it was easy to forget to enjoy the little things. To remember how lucky I was.
She pointed at the corridor that led to Jacob’s office. “Can I stop in and say hello?”
I pursed my lips.” He’s in meetings all day.” I heard the click of the door, Jacob’s not-so-subtle way of saying he didn’t want to be disturbed. I prayed that Mom missed the sound and my rigid strides in the opposite direction, but I could tell she hadn't from the way she hesitated before following me.
I pushed open the door to my office, making a grand gesture. “And here’s where I spend most of my day.”
She walked in first, marveling over it even though it didn’t hold a candle to the set-up in Mrs. Joy’s office. She went to the desk, picking up the cat figurine before moving to a framed picture of me and Jacob.
I remembered that day so clearly, so vividly, that it felt like yesterday instead of over a month ago. We found a family owned vineyard with rows and rows of grape vines. I’d leapt at the chance so squash the grapes with my feet and make wine and I’d been floored when he rolled up his pants and joined me. The picture was a moment, frozen in time forever. A moment of sheer bliss. It was a snapshot of what we were and now...now it was just evidence that things had fallen apart.
“So what happened between you and Jacob?” Mom asked, putting the picture back. “Cade Wallace?”
It was my first inclination to agree. To pinpoint the exact moment we veered off course to the moment Cade sat at my table and said hello. But that was a cop-out. Cade wasn’t the real problem. Jacob and I took a turn the first time I lied to him. I had to stop lying. To him. To myself.
“Turns out you were right. He wants to marry me.” I ran my thumb along the edge of my desk. “Wanted.” She wasn’t pushing me, which wasn’t characteristic for my mother at all, so I did something uncharacteristic too--I opened up to her.
“I keep t
hinking that the things I’m doing, keeping things to myself…” I closed my eyes. “I keep lying for what I think are the right reasons, but he keeps pulling further and further away. Maybe I don’t deserve him. Maybe I don’t deserve happiness.”
“Leila Christine Montgomery.” Her tone was strict. “I don’t want you to ever say anything like that again. I don’t care if you’re dating Jacob Whitmore, the president of the United States, or a garbage collector. You deserve happiness. You deserve love.”
“Then why do I keep screwing it up?”
“Because you’re sabotaging yourself.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”
“It’s cheerleading, yearbook staff and the musical all over again.”
I laughed at that. “Everything you just named was situations where I was shy or thought I had zero chance and would make a complete fool of myself.”
“Why?” she asked plainly. “You knew the routines for cheerleading tryouts. I watched you perform them all in the backyard. Your pictures from family vacations were good enough to go in a brochure. And don’t even get me started on your singing voice.” She paused, like she was listening to me belt out a tune even though I was just glaring at her. “Every single time, you didn’t think you were good enough so you made sure that they fell through.”
It wasn’t true. On the day of cheerleading tryouts I got violently sick. There was no way I could have performed and risked vomiting all over the gym floor. And just because I happened to snap a decent picture of the beach of a Ferris wheel in motion didn’t mean I was good enough to be on yearbook staff. And as far as the musical, it was one thing to give a speech as the class president and a whole other thing to sing and go up against theatre majors.
My stomach clenched.
Excuses. Every one of them.
Was it true? Did I keep sabotaging my relationship with Jacob because I didn’t think I deserved him? Because I was afraid he’d wake up and realize he made a terrible mistake in trusting me with his heart?
“You deserve to be happy, Leila,” Mom said firmly. “If Jacob makes you happy, stop screwing around and be with him. It’s as simple as that.”
I wanted to believe her, that it would be such an easy fix as just cutting it out. But there was a part of me that worried too much had happened and too much trust was lost.
****
I shook off what was left of sleep, stretching my arms perpendicular to my body before opening them, expecting my fingertips to graze the muscular wall of Jacob’s back. Without even glancing at my cell I knew it was a little past seven am. Years of 8am classes had my internal alarm dinging, even on a Saturday.
The casual brush wouldn’t stir Jacob, which was fine by me. I was just looking forward to rolling over for some cuddling and gather strength for what I knew I had to do. I couldn’t handle one more day of carrying this burden. I needed to tell him what I read.
But my fingertips didn’t collide with his sleeping form. I lifted my head and saw that his side of the bed was neat, his pillow and section of the sheets untouched.
Last night I’d gone to bed with another text that he had a long night at work, but this…this was different.
Jacob didn’t come home last night.
I threw the covers to the side and kicked off the bed, moving like a woman possessed. I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and stomped into my flats beside the closet. I knew I was unshowered and looked slightly unhinged, but I was going to Whitmore and Creighton.
But what if he isn’t at his office? I thought, hurt knotting my stomach. What if he stayed at a hotel because he couldn’t stand being around me for one more second?
I paused outside the bedroom, the smell of coffee wafting up to put my freak out on hold. He must have gotten up before me.
I eased down the staircase, drawing steadying breaths. This was just further proof that it was time to be honest. I was literally losing my mind.
The door to the balcony was open and I launched myself forward. Jacob was reclined in one of the wicker armchairs, looking incredible even in a plain white t-shirt and black lounge pants. His dark hair was slightly mussed, the wavy locks creating an ebony halo around his bowed head. He looked so peaceful. So serene. I was about to take him from that, ripping him into the dark pit of my latest betrayal.
"Morning," I said, my voice still shaking, hoarse from hours of non-use.
Yeah right, Lay. Non-use my ass--I was shaking from white hot terror that I’d ruined everything. If all the drama I’d put him through up to now wasn’t enough to destroy us, hearing that I’d officially become one of those psycho girlfriends that snooped would be.
He glanced up, his cerulean eyes bright and warm. Warmer than I'd seen them in a while. "Good morning." He nodded at the small, iron wrought table beside him where a French press and a second mug sat. "Coffee's fresh."
"Thanks." I gripped the handle tight and poured the dark roast into my mug then added a bit of cream and brought it to my lips. It was liquid fire, scorching my dry mouth and throat.
I sunk into the chair beside him, trying to shut my head off and focus on my heart and what needed to be said. It was a losing battle because the possibility that I could lose him consumed me. The notion that this could be it, that we’d reached the point of no return was like a knife to the chest. But it didn't compare to this purgatory, the agony of the words he wrote branded on my soul.
I'm not sure about a lot of things. I'm not sure where Leila and I stand…
"It's beautiful out here today, huh?" His deep voice pulled me from my pity party.
It was true. The sky was a soft hue that was romantic. Dreamy. A world away from the storm that was coming.
"It is," I answered, chewing on my bottom lip.
"Can I tell you something?"
I blurted out yes, snatching up the reprieve, no matter how brief.
"It's going to sound cheesy," he warned, stealing a look at me.
I couldn't help but smile at that. Jacob Whitmore, cheesy? That was damn near impossible. But he was clearly waiting for me to give him the okay, so I tipped my head for him to go on.
"Mornings are my favorite time of the day," he confessed. "Where the sky is still swirling with bits of purple, shedding the last pieces of yesterday. I feel like anything is possible. A fresh start. A chance to get it right or wrong. Anything could happen."
My lips spread, but nothing came out. A fresh start. It was like he'd read my thoughts and knew just what to say and show me that this was my moment. All I had to do was take it with both hands and let go.
He faced me full-on, his expression the very definition of dread. "Too much?"
The side of my mouth crept upward. "No, Jacob. It was beautiful."
He held my gaze for a few seconds more then turned back to his city. "I'm sorry I've been at the office so much lately. I've been up to my damn ears signing off on projects, expanding our client base..." He trailed off with a low chuckle. "What am I saying? You know better than anyone how crazy things are."
"I do," I replied, placing my mug on the table. My hands were shaking too hard to maintain my grip. When he blew up after I told him about the letter, I could already see it crashing and splintering into a million pieces.
I rolled my shoulders back. I’d had weeks of avoiding this. Living with this secret. Win or lose, I was coming clean.
"I'm sorry too, Jacob."
He cocked his head to the side. "You're sorry? What for?"
"Because I read the letter you wrote to your mother."
Ever since I opened that letter, I prepared myself for the worse. A rush of blood to the head in the space between my confession and his response. Some form of cardiac arrest to kick in as I watched it really sink in, compounding the damage I'd already done. His face would crumble, wild with rage as I prepared for him to tell me that he was done. That he was tired of giving me all, only to be disappointed when I found some new way to hurt him. I was prepared for the eruption, to stand still and take it as
he laid out all the reasons he never should have hired me or allowed himself to fall for me. I was prepared. I'd accepted it. What I wasn't prepared for were the actual words that fell from his lips.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I blinked once. Twice. Slowly, hesitantly, my body started turning and whirling as his words spun around me. “What did you just say?”
He pivoted to me and said it again. “I’m sorry that you had to see that.” His eyes breathed me in with concern. With worry. “That letter…I was going to send that weeks ago...you’ve been carrying that confession around all this time?”
That was his question? Not, ‘Have you lost your goddamn mind’? This wasn’t real. This was a dream. Still, I managed to move my head up and down.
“Oh Leila.” He said my name like it was the saddest, most gut wrenching love song ever written. “Baby you should have...” He got up and took my hand in his, bringing me to my feet and crushing my body against his. “I was angry when I wrote those words. I was tired of feeling like I didn’t have control. You did what you wanted. Cade fucking Wallace did what he wanted.” He combed his fingers through my hair, his face coursing with emotion—and not the emotion I expected. “That letter certainly wasn’t the way I wanted you to learn that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“You still want to spend your life with me?” I said in disbelief. “After everything that’s happened?”
“I know what a Leila-free life is like. I’ve been there, I’ve done that and I’ll be damned if I go back to living without you.” He quirked his lips into a smile. “I mean, I’d be lying if I told you that all the things that have happened haven’t made me pause and take a step back, but I never stopped loving you.”
“And I never stopped loving you,” I whispered, bringing my arms up, circling his neck and standing on my toes. My lips hovered mere inches from his lips. “Jacob, I’m sorry for the letter and I’m sorry for whatever stupid thing I’m bound to do in the future.” I moved closer, my lips brushing his. “I don’t want you to ever doubt me or where we stand. I want to be the thing you can trust, that you can count on no matter what.” The kiss bloomed and the whole world paused for us. It was only his lips, my lips and the taste of the future.