“Annabeth, this is Nick Zarrino,” Laini said. “Nick, this is Annabeth Coe. But I believe you know each other. Is that right?”
Nick put out his hand to shake mine. “Yes. We’re old friends, but it’s been a long time. How are you, Annabeth?”
“Fine.” The word came out high and cracked as I took his hand. Part of me wanted to melt into its familiarity, to forget the past and just remember the good times, but I couldn’t erase the memory of our parting. Finding my voice, I added with my most professional smile, “Welcome to Smith and Grenwick.”
“Since you two already know one another,” Laini said, “Annabeth, I’d like you to spend the next two days orientating Nick. He’ll be taking over the corporate social responsibility account of Northwestern Memorial Hospital and the foundation work from Roger Harris. Eventually we’ll transition him into the U of Chicago account but not yet.”
Laini’s assistant, Angela, piped up from behind her superiors. “There’s a meeting at ten with the Northwestern team. We’re taking him to lunch at noon—you’re welcome to join us—then he’s meeting with Rick for the rest of the afternoon. Tomorrow is open until three, when Mr. Harris has agreed to a conference call.”
“I really appreciate you doing this, Annabeth. I’m in meetings solid for the next few days,” Rick said as though that justified the situation he’d unwittingly put me in.
I smiled, readjusting the tote bag and purse on my shoulder. Rick was my boss as well as Nick’s, so it wasn’t as if I could say no.
Laini gestured us into Nick’s office. “Have fun, you two.” She and Rick ambled off down the hall.
Nick and I looked at each other, the tension of more than a decade of grudges crackling between us like the lit fuse on a stick of dynamite. Neither of us spoke, each trying to figure out how to bridge that gulf. Part of me wanted to rail at him, another part was brimming with questions, and the greater part warned me to remain professional. There would be time for the rest later. I decided to listen to that part and treat him like a stranger.
“Would you like something to drink? I’ll show you where the break room is, then we’ll swing by my cube so I can set this down.” I gestured toward the bags digging into my right shoulder. “Then I’ll give you a tour, and we can get started.”
Nick’s eyes were pleading. “Baby, I’m so sorry for what happened—”
I held up a hand to cut him off and said with a forced smile, “This is neither the time nor the place. Let’s just forget about it for now. We have work to do.”
“You will never believe who appeared at the office today,” I said to Mia.
Along with Miles, we had just ordered our dinner at a popular new Mexican restaurant and were nursing drinks on the rooftop terrace.
Mia arched an eyebrow at me. “Judging by the rate you’re sucking down that margarita, I’m guessing it wasn’t someone good.”
I glared at her, but the object of my wrath wasn’t here. In fact, I didn’t have a clue where he was. Probably charming something blond in a short skirt. “Remember the guy who broke my heart senior year of college? Well, we’re colleagues now. He was hired in to replace Jenna.”
“Seriously, what are the chances that Nick the Dick would end up at our firm?” Miles asked. “I mean, I didn’t keep in touch with him, but last I heard, he wasn’t even living in this part of the country.”
“I know, right?”
Mia was looking at me as though appraising my ability to handle this odd situation. “So what are you going to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, are you going to clear the air or just let the obviously bad blood between you fester?”
“I’m going to be professional when I need to be around him, which is apparently eight hours a day for a while, and the rest of the time, I’m going to pretend he doesn’t exist.”
“Fester it is then.” Mia sat back in her chair as if she couldn’t care less about my choice.
“Well, what would you have me do?”
“Wait, why don’t you sound surprised by this whole situation?” Miles asked, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriend.
Mia grimaced, turning her lips downward and wrinkling her brow. “Well…” She drew out the word. “I may be indirectly responsible.”
I nearly knocked over my drink by lunging at her. “What?”
Miles grabbed my waist and pulled me back into my chair. “Down, girl. Let’s hear her out.”
Mia’s eyes widened, and she backed her chair up a little before speaking. “A few weeks ago, I was out with the Ford girls at some club. I met this cute guy who said he was new to town. Eventually, he mentioned where he went to school, and I said my boyfriend and friend went there. When it turned out you were in the same class, I mentioned your name, and he said he knew you. Later on, when he said he was still looking for a job, I told him about the opening at your company. I figured since you knew each other…”
I gripped the lip of the table, fighting to keep my temper in check. “And when he told you his name, you never once thought it could be the same Nick I’ve wailed about over and over again?”
“No.”
Mia’s expression radiated lamblike innocence, but I didn’t believe her for a second. She had a nasty habit of forgetting about relationships when it suited her. “You didn’t make the connection, not even for second? Just like you didn’t realize your roommate’s girlfriend was the same woman you slept with on St. Patrick’s Day? You knew them for months. And you’ve known about Nick for three years. Who else could he have been?”
“Be fair, Annabeth,” Miles chided. “If the situation were reversed, you may not have made the connection either, especially if you’d been drinking. Plus, Nick still had to make it through the interview process. This isn’t all Mia’s fault. He could just as easily have found the job on the Internet.”
Leave it to Miles to be the voice of reason. But I still couldn’t believe that was the whole story. If I had learned one thing about Mia, it was that she rarely did anything without it somehow benefiting her. I started to ask her more, but the waiter arrived with our food, and by the time he left, she and Miles were chatting about the cattle call for Chicago’s fall Fashion Week coming up in October.
“Hang on,” I interrupted. “Back the truck up. We’re not done talking about Nick.”
A shadow of annoyance passed over Mia’s face, but she tried to cover it with a sigh. “What more is there to say?”
“A lot more.” I stabbed at my enchilada with my fork. “Like, what’s in it for you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Helping Nick. Why did you do it?”
“Ah, hello? I was being nice.”
“Uh-huh. Since when are you nice?”
Mia looked to Miles to defend her, but he only chuckled.
“He was cute, all right? I wanted his, um—” She glanced at Miles apologetically. Miles frowned but said nothing. Something in the set of his shoulders said he was used to situations like this. “Attention, if you catch my drift.”
“Two peas in a pod,” I muttered, shaking my head. Then, more loudly, I added, “If that’s all it was, why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Because I was afraid you’d react like this.”
“Like what?” My voice rose with each word. “Like someone blindsided by a demon from her past? Because I have no right to act like that, do I?” I shoved a forkful of enchilada into my mouth.
“Annabeth…” Miles’ tone was a warning.
“What?” I asked, mouth too full to say more.
“Calm down.”
I swallowed and narrowed my eyes at Mia. “You thought I’d be jealous, didn’t you?”
“And you’re not?” she asked, voice lazy as though she was bored with the topic.
“No. I’m mad that you didn’t warn me this bastard was creeping back into my world.” That I needed to prepare, to protect my heart. To my chagrin, tears of frustration
spilled into my refried beans. “A real friend would have at least given me a head’s up.”
Mia looked hurt. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you, but as I said, I didn’t realize who he was. It’s not like I make a habit of reporting to you on every guy I meet.” She crossed her arms defensively, expression crumbling into an unattractive sulk.
“And now it’s time to change the subject before your friendship is ruined over a silly misunderstanding,” Miles said, putting a hand on each of our shoulders. “How about them Cubbies? I think they may have a shot at the post-season this year.”
Only one hour to go before Nick becomes Rick’s problem not yours, I told myself as Nick questioned our way of doing things for what felt like the millionth time in two days.
Willing myself to have the patience of a saint, I forced my expression to remain neutral while I took a deep breath and explained—again. “A log of all of our meetings with clients is important in tracking our billable hours in case a conversation ever comes into dispute or if, as in your situation, someone has to take over an account in progress.”
“Yeah, but summarizing every single conversation just seems like busywork. Can’t I just hand over my notes to Angela and have her type them up?”
“Angela is Laini’s assistant, not ours. We don’t have one, so we do this work ourselves.”
Nick frowned. “When I took this job, I thought I would be doing more liaising and less paperwork.” He tapped the paper clip he was fiddling with on the desk.
“You’ll get used to it. Think about this way—these reports are helpful to you as well. Sometimes you’ll have half a dozen accounts in flight at once, some of which are likely to be similar clients. This will help you keep Northwestern Memorial’s events straight from those associated with the University Medical Center. Besides, Laini presents these to the board and uses them to make sure she knows what’s what with our clients.”
Nick tossed down his paper clip, and it skittered across the desk like a skipping stone before finally coming to rest next to his stapler. “Great, so my activity is being monitored too.”
“Yes, Nick,” I snapped. “We all are. It’s part of agency life. If you don’t perform, you’re out. We’re not two kids playing in the sandbox together anymore. This is work. It’s fun, but it’s no easy ride.”
He looked at me then, those blue eyes of his piercing straight through my workaday demeanor. “You could just let me fail, you know. Why are you being so nice to me?”
I looked at my lap, eyes tracing the pattern of my houndstooth skirt, not wanting him to see the emotions warring within me. Because what happened was my fault not yours. Because part of me will always love you even if you are a bastard. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
He grimaced, clearly not happy with my answer.
“Why are you here, Nick?”
“What do you mean?”
I flailed my arms, gesturing around me. “Here. In this office. In this city.” In my life.
Nick watched me for a moment before answering, his eyes searching in the way I’d come to know meant he was sizing me up, trying to decide how much to tell me. “Things haven’t been going so great for me. My parents are gone. My sister doesn’t speak to me. I needed a friendly face.”
“And so you decided that the woman who hasn’t spoken to you in over a decade was a good place to start?”
Nick let out a long breath through his nose. “Yeah. I mean, I looked at my life, at my past, and wondered where I went wrong. I realized it was in Rome, and that led me back to you.”
I snorted. “You always were a smooth liar. You’ll do well bullshitting our clients.”
“I’m serious, Annabeth. I had no right to hurt you, to pressure you—and I am sorry for that; it was an accident—but I shouldn’t have left you alone in a foreign country like I did.”
“Stop being so melodramatic. It’s not like I was actually alone. I had twenty other classmates to hang out with once you left.”
He nodded, accepting my point. “If you had it to do all over again, would you still make the same choice, still say no?”
I stilled, thrown off by the intimacy of his question. For a few heartbeats, I didn’t even breathe. I imagined what it would have been like if Nick and I had been lovers, if we had stayed together through the final months of college. I probably would have followed him around as he’d pursued his dream of being a music manager. It was a hard scenario to swallow given that it would have changed everything. We may have even gotten married.
“Yes,” I said quietly. “Something in my gut told me you weren’t the one, and I always listen to my instincts.”
Nick’s face darkened, and he glanced at my hands folded in my lap. “Your gut seems to be doing a great job of keeping you single.”
I pulled back as though he had burned me, pressing deep into the back of my chair. “I don’t see a gold band on your finger either.”
“But that’s by choice. I don’t want to be tied down, not yet. You always wanted to be. Let me guess. You’re still chasing a fantasy, still waiting for your Prince Charming. Am I right?”
My cheeks burned, and I glared at him, refusing to answer. But there was no need. Nick had known me since we were four. He could read me better than my own mother.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Still writing those letters on your birthday? God, I’d kill to see what those say.” He chuckled darkly.
I smacked him across the cheek.
Nick’s head jerked. A second later, he was rubbing his jaw. To my great astonishment, he smiled slyly and catlike. “There’s the Annabeth I’ve been waiting to see. I was wondering when the she-devil would come out. Jesus, girl, you’re not a fucking saint. It’s been ten years. Let me have it. Let’s get it all out in the open.”
I stood, smoothing my skirt, and fought to keep my voice level. “I’ve done all I am required to with you. Now leave me alone. We may have to work in the same building, but that doesn’t mean we have to talk to one another.”
Nick got to his feet, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, love, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to rile you.”
I shrugged him off and whirled to face him. My index finger was less than an inch from his nose. “Never ever call me that again. If you must say anything, call me by my name. We are adults. Professionals. Nothing more. Got it?”
He nodded.
I gathered my things and headed toward the door, fighting the tears pricking at my eyes. “Angela will call you when the clients are here.”
Instead of going back to my desk as I had planned, I took a detour into the bathroom and locked myself in a stall. Immediately, my whole body shook. Working with Nick was going to be its own special kind of hell.
CHAPTER TEN
August
“Come on, Annabeth,” Mia said, dragging me by the arm toward the black-clad doorman at the CopaKaraoke. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll see.”
“No. I swore I would never do karaoke, and I don’t plan on changing my mind now.”
She stood between the street and me, blocking my escape, hands on her hips. “It’s my birthday. Therefore, you have to do what I want. That’s our rule, remember?”
Ugh. She was right. “Fine.”
The doorman waved us through. “Happy birthday,” he said to Mia with a wink.
She responded with a smile that could only have been described as delicious.
As an off-tune couple crooned a popular duet, we found the rest of our group at a cluster of tables in front of the stage. Scanning the faces, I realized most of them were Mia’s friends and every one of them a model. Suddenly, I felt very pedestrian.
So Miles and I were onlookers into Mia’s glamorous world tonight—again. Goodie. I sat and ordered a vodka martini, knowing I’d need something strong to get me through the night.
“All right,” Miles said, rubbing his hands together. “Who is going to rescue us from this terrible
tragedy happening on stage? Someone has to go first.”
I pointed at Mia. “The birthday girl should go first.”
“Yeah,” one of the models chimed in. “Birthday girl!”
Soon they were all chanting the phrase. Mia stood, smiling coyly, but she was enjoying every second of it. She went over to the guy in charge and consulted his list before whispering something in his ear. Then she took the stage. A few seconds later, she was seducing the audience with a sultry rendition of Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse.”
Sometimes I thought she’d missed her calling. Not only did she have perfect pitch, she was a true showman, making up dance moves off the top of her head perfectly coordinated to the music. By the time she pulled Miles up on stage to rap Juicy J’s part, she had the audience eating out of the palm of her hand. Plenty of people were cheering, catcalling, and whistling.
As they exited the stage, one particularly sharp whistle came from directly behind me, making me jump and spill my drink all over my sequined shirt. Thank God vodka was clear. I turned around, ready to spear the whistler with a dirty look, but I froze when I saw it was Alex. What the hell was he doing here?
I grabbed Mia’s arm when she walked by, purposefully digging my nails into her arm. “You invited Alex?”
“Miles did. But I’m glad he’s here.” She looked him up and down appreciatively. Turning back to the group, Mia called, “I want to do shots! Who’s with me?”
As the models raced to the bar, Alex pulled up a chair next to me, signaling to the waitress to bring me another drink. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“No, I—I just didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Neither did I. Karaoke has never really been my thing. When Miles invited me, I tried to beg off, but Mia made it sound too good to pass up.”
“She could sell a prostitute to a priest.”
Alex laughed, choking on the beer the waitress had just set before him. “That I would like to see.”
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