Love, Redefined: A Contemporary Romance Novel (Love Lessons Book 1)

by Brynn North

  No contact. Apparently, resisting the urge to contact your ex after a breakup was the best way to make him realize the mistake he’d made by letting you go. I was unsure of the logic in this idea but thought I had nothing to lose. Begging and pleading didn’t seem to do anything, so why not try this, I figured?

  Because it fucking sucked. That’s why I didn’t want to try it. It took everything in me, every day, to not reach out to see how he was doing, how work was going, or to desperately beg for any crumb that showed missed me at all. For the first two weeks after I bolted up to Minneapolis, he had courteously yet distantly responded to my texts and calls. It made me feel better for about ten minutes, but after a couple of weeks, I was forced to admit to myself that while the contact was an attempt to make myself feel better, really, in the end, it just made me feel worse.

  But how can I let this go to waste? I thought to myself, thinking of the fresh cut and highlights Vi’s hairdresser had finished an hour ago, making me look five years younger. As much as I hated to admit, I hadn’t given my appearance a lot of effort in the last few years. There was always too much to worry about - dropping off the dry cleaning, organizing the holidays, or grocery shopping to do.

  Before I could stop myself, my fingers were flying over the screen.

  Katrina: How have you been?

  Simple and neutral. Perfect. To my surprise, I didn’t have to wait too long for Shane’s response.

  Shane: Fine, I guess. You?

  Hope surged me, though I tried to squash it down. I guess? Was our breakup harder for him than he was willing to admit? Did he miss me? Play it cool, Katrina, I chided myself. This was no time to play Ms. Desperation.

  Katrina: Fine as well.

  Then, before I could stop myself, I started typing again.

  Katrina: Got a job interview. Waiting in the lobby as I type.

  I had reluctantly reached out to Boston last night, and we had exchanged a few brief yet polite texts. By the next morning, he had pulled through with a job interview. While I was thankful, I was even more thankful that I didn’t have to meet up with him to discuss it.

  I waited for Shane’s reply, dying to see what he’d say about that. Would he question why I had a job interview hundreds of miles away from our home? Beg me to reconsider and come back? Tell me I shouldn’t be looking for one so far away?

  Shane: Congrats! I hope it goes well!

  Well, shit. Not exactly what I wanted. I stared at the screen for another few minutes, tears welling in my eyes, until I realized the time. I had to pull myself together and get out of my car before I was late for this interview and blew the whole thing. If I did that, there was no telling where I’d be.

  I knew the right answer to Shane’s reply was to believe in all the motivational crap I read on Instagram, about how if it was meant to be, it’ll come back together, or how a strong woman knows her worth and walks away with her head held high, blah blah blah. Strong woman my ass. I was barely holding anything together, just faking it. And barely even that most days.

  Mercifully, I was able to blink away my tears before I stepped out of the car for my job interview. Boston promised me via text he’d put in a good word, and warned me though the editor wasn’t known to be, in his words, ‘warm and fuzzy,’ she just needed to hear I could do some basic administrative tasks and I’d be hired. You couldn’t call this my dream job or anything, but then again, I wasn’t exactly living my dream life right now, either.

  “So, Kat,” Kiara stared at me over her glasses half an hour later, after grilling me about my experience. Boston’s warning about her not being warm was an understatement. The older woman behind the desk scared the daylights out of me with her impeccable looks and stern attitude. “It’s apparent you have the skills to do a decent job. But tell me why you want this job.”

  I panicked. How was I supposed to answer that question? I didn’t want the stupid job. I just wanted a job. Hell, even that was an overstatement. More like, I wanted money in my bank account that wasn’t half supplied by a man, who by all accounts, didn’t want me, therefore rendering me not wanting his money. I certainly couldn’t say that though, right?

  Instead, I flashed her my best ass kissing smile. The same one I perfected at Shane’s stupid work parties with all the other work wives and girlfriends I was required to make excruciating small talk with while he and his colleagues talked business over gin and tonics. God, I hated those dinners, with the small talk mostly revolving around what various activities their nannies brought the children to while the women were out getting their hair and nails done. Each party came with a pitying remark pointed toward me about how fortunate they were to have such a wonderful life, and how they couldn’t wait until I could have the same.

  “I’ve dreamed about being in publishing for years.” That part was true, at least. “When I heard about this opportunity, I thought it’d be a great way to learn and get a foot in the door.”

  Kiara nodded emotionlessly. “But why now? Most people start after college, not after several years of freelancing.”

  This was a short-term admin gig, covering someone’s maternity leave. What did this woman expect, someone to profess their undying love for her company and dedicate the next several months to kissing her ass?

  Probably.

  “Had to travel around for my, um, fiancé’s career,” I fumbled, hoping it was a reasonable excuse. “Made it hard to settle in one place.”

  I hastily added, “But that’s no longer a problem.”

  I saw Kiara glance down at my ring finger, and I involuntarily started rubbing where, until a scant month ago, I had dreamed of having a ring for years. Now, the emptiness of that finger made me depressed, a reminder of empty promises and broken dreams. A reminder I could be thrown away on a whim. But to acknowledge my relationship was over to a gorgeous, older woman who had it all put together would be utterly humiliating, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Pity that in this day and age, it’s still the silent rule women have to give up more to support the man. Every year, though, it seems to get a little better.” She started gathering up her papers and glanced at the clock, a clear sign she was ready for this meeting to be over.

  Great, I thought to myself. This woman clearly thinks I’m a loser. I grabbed my purse and stood up, ready to thank her for her time. Pain burned through me. Rejection sucks, and I already received the biggest rejection of my entire life. I wasn’t sure how many more I could go through in a short timeframe.

  “So you’ll start Monday?”

  The words caught me off guard. “You still…want me?”

  The terrifying woman flashed me a brief smile. “I will expect you to work hard, and integrate yourself into TC Media as much as you can while you’re here, but you’ll do.”

  Gratitude flashed through me. Walking in, I wasn’t sure I even wanted this job, but now I was offered it, I realized how badly I wanted something to call my own. I was ready to break down in tears, but I knew that wouldn’t go over well in front of someone like Kiara.

  “Thank you,” I managed to get out. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m sure you won’t.”

  I turned toward the door.

  “And Katrina?”

  “Yes?” I paused, one hand on the doorknob. Already, I could see the figure of a man waiting outside the door. Kiara’s next appointment.

  “Everyone needs a fresh start sometime. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Her words could have been friendly, but the crispness to her words gave it a little chill.

  I gave a curt nod, all I could manage, and fled.

  8

  “So he didn’t even say a damn word except for ‘good luck’?” I had wanted to get Vi’s take on Shane’s message, but her shriek told me all I needed to know.

  “Yeah, well,” I fiddled with my martini glass. Vi had insisted on taking me out to dinner to celebrate my new job, and I had asked her if we could go to the Mall of America so I could grab a few new pieces to wear to the
office as long as we were out and about. Vi was so shocked and happy I wanted to travel somewhere besides from the bed to her couch that she almost leaped into her car.

  “Maybe he was in shock?” I offered like it just occurred to me, not that I had turned his response over and over in my head for hours today, trying to read into it.

  She shook her head, dark brown curls waving wildly in the air. “Don’t read into it,” she instructed with a finger pointed in my direction, giving me a look that told me I wasn’t fooling anyone with my innocent tone. “There are no hidden messages here.”

  Though I knew her words were true and meant to be firm but not unkind, they stung me at a high level. Because if there wasn’t a hidden message, then it was true. Shane was moving on and wanted me to as well. And that was something I wasn’t prepared to face yet. I could only face it if I thought I was giving him space to realize what he was missing out on.

  “So, what do you think I need to get?” I brightly changed the subject. The temp job wasn’t going to pay me a crazy amount, but it was enough to cover my expenses and throw a few bucks toward Vi for rent, even though she insisted having me over was her pleasure. “I can only afford a few things.”

  Vi’s eyebrows formed a straight line. “What did you bring that I haven’t seen yet?”

  “You’ve pretty much seen it all,” I admitted. Which was to admit my wardrobe had been neglected over the last years for lack of need to wear pants that buttoned.

  “Soooo…athleisure. Got it. So then, my opinion is you need to borrow something of mine to wear.”

  I flicked my napkin across our empty plates toward her. “Bitch, the situation isn’t that bad.”

  She flicked it right back. “Trust your bestie, Katrina. Yes, it is.”

  After buying three pairs of pants, and digging through her closet when we got back for some shirts, I admitted she was right. The situation really had been that bad.

  “Look at the babe in the mirror!” Vi let out a low whistle as I stood back to look at myself in her full-length mirror, and I had to admit it had been a long time since I felt this, well, attractive.

  The woman looking back at me in the mirror had dropped the ten pounds that needed to be dropped. Sure, it might have been from depression and walking for long hours by the river, solo, but it worked. Instead of leggings and a baggy sweater, she was wearing designer skinny jeans and a fitted top, with booties on her feet. Her hair had been chopped three inches into a trendy bob that swung right over her shoulders and was artfully highlighted.

  If you didn’t look too closely at her eyes to see the sadness lingering in them, she seemed like a really well put together woman. Someone that looked almost familiar to me, but like I couldn’t quite place her. Like someone I hadn’t seen in years. Someone I used to be, several years ago, before the grind of life got to her.

  Vi came over and squeezed me around the shoulders, sensing what I was thinking, without even saying it. “That girl in the mirror was awesome then, is awesome now, and will be even more incredible in the future. I promise.”

  The next morning, I woke with a jerk. Something was different about today. First of all, my alarm was going off. My alarm hadn’t gone off in months. I mean, why would I set an alarm if I didn’t have anywhere to go? Something else seemed weird, though.

  As I groggily forced my eyes open, I realized why I felt different. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t wake up wishing it was already time for bed. I woke up with a sense of purpose. Like I had something going for me for once. Then, it hit me. Today was Monday, and in an hour, I was expected to start my first day of official work at the first official job I’ve held in years. All the confidence and excitement I had turned to panic. What was I doing, taking a job so far away from Chicago, where my home was, where the love of my life was, even if he didn’t quite realize right now that I was the love of his life?

  I grabbed my phone, where I had downloaded one of those daily mantra apps, sending hope that a $1.99 app would cure my depression and make me happy again.

  “Let’s see what this thing has for me today,” I grumbled to myself. Yesterday was about appreciating what I had, and not striving for more, or something like that. Maybe I’d get lucky again and get something similar, cementing the idea I shouldn’t be doing anything drastic.

  With change comes opportunity.

  Well, shit. Some help that was, I thought to myself as I threw my phone across the bed and got up to get ready.

  “Kat, right?” A perky blonde ten years younger than me greeted me at the front desk.

  “It’s actually…” I stopped myself before I finished and glanced at my reflection in the lobby glass doors. New haircut, new clothes, sleek new wedges on my feet. Nobody had ever called me Kat, save for Boston using the word to annoy me in high school. Maybe new me, new…name? Kat was a sexy name, sleeker than Katrina for sure. Instead of finishing my sentence, I flashed her a smile instead.

  “Yes, it’s Kat,” I said in a firm voice.

  “Great, I’m Starr. Follow me. I’ll show you to your desk by Kiara’s office, then we’ll head into the Monday morning staff meeting.”

  “Staff meeting? Me? I’m just here for a few months,” I gave a little protest as she wove me around office cubicles.

  Starr gave a little shrug. “Kiara’s very firm about her Monday morning staff meetings. That’s where we brainstorm article ideas and go over our current work. Everyone has to go, no exceptions.”

  Okay, guess I was heading to a staff meeting where I’d have nothing to contribute, but at least I was getting paid to sit through it. Things could be worse. I just hoped against all hope Boston wouldn’t be in the meeting. I had fired off a perfunctory thank you text to him, and he had replied with a simple ‘you’re welcome.’ That was far more than good enough for me.

  Starr waited while I put down my bag and, for good measure, grabbed a notebook and pen I saw on top of the desk so I’d look good.

  I sat down at the far end of the table, hoping to blend in with the other fifteen or so people in the room. Kiara clapped her hands and greeted everyone.

  “Happy Monday, all.” There was a mumble of unenthusiastic greetings, appropriate for a staff meeting starting at 8:30 on a Monday morning. Kiara, who looked and sounded incredibly sharp considering the time, started going through her agenda. I scribbled the occasional meaningless note, trying to act like I was engrossed until I heard my name.

  “And over there at the end,” Kiara nodded in my direction, “We have a new staff member who will take over as my assistant for the next three months while Tanika is on maternity leave. Katrina, why don’t you introduce yourself, and we’ll let you kick off this week’s round-robin on article ideas?”

  My face burned a deep, dark red. Article ideas? They expected me to contribute on my first day, hell, make that my first thirty minutes? “I, uh, am Katrina, but,” I said, suddenly remembering my new nickname, “I go by Kat. And I don’t have any article ideas, I’m sorry.”

  Kiara gave me a disapproving look before thanking me for my introduction, and my face flamed even brighter if that was possible. Damn. My first day, and I was already disappointing her. This would be a long three months if I kept it up. I listened as everyone went around in a circle and pitched article ideas, all having the luxury of having a full week to think of ideas. Kiara wrote the ideas she liked down on the whiteboard, and I noticed the people whose ideas didn’t make it on the whiteboard got a dejected look on their faces. I sensed they’d be hearing about it from her later if they had too many duds in a row.

  “Is that all we have today?” Kiara surveyed us all, hands on her hips. “I warned everyone last week we needed some more ideas for our Lifestyle section. Let’s try this again, and this time I want everyone to give me something that will work for our modern readers.”

  Fuuuuck, I thought frantically for ideas, trying to remember articles I’ve edited in the past that might interest the readers of Minneapolis Magazine. Unfortunately, t
he only ones coming to mind were scientific journals, and I highly doubted those would pique most people’s interests.

  “Kat, care to share any ideas? Maybe you have some fresh thoughts for the team?” While it came out a question, Kiara’s tone of voice clearly showed answering was not an option.

  “How about new food trucks?” I offered, worried it would sound lame. Scratch that. By the look on everyone’s faces, it was lame. I needed to do better.

  “Or,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, thinking of the list Vi and I started the other night. “How about sudden singlehood when you’re approaching 30?” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I wanted to dive under the table. How fucking lame. How embarrassing. Who in the world would want to read about women like me, going through the worst moments of their lives?

  Katrina looked at me, intrigued. “Go on.”

  “No, it’s stupid,” I mumbled.

  “I’m listening,” she said, with a voice that indicated she had all day.

  Face burning, I pressed on in a small voice. “Maybe showcase what it’s like to be a single woman in, say, her thirties, after a long relationship ended. Feeling unwanted or over the hill. Learning how to move on and navigate life when it’s all unfamiliar. Create action steps or something.”

  The conference room seemed unusually quiet, and I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. I had just aired out my dirty laundry and woes for all my new coworkers to laugh about. The only saving grace I could think of was that Boston was nowhere in this room. Good. Hopefully, it’d stay that way for the next few months. I stared intently at my paper, doodling circles over and over, waiting for this moment to be over.

  “I love it. Best idea I’ve heard in weeks.” Kiara clapped her hands. “The rest of you should be thinking of fresh ideas like the one Kat proposed.”