Olivia arrived back from Prague two days ago. She’s currently staying with Delilah but will be moving into my old apartment tomorrow. Well, our old apartment. All of her old furniture awaits her, including the lumpy, stained futon. Her MBA program at Columbia University starts next week.
Delilah is now a fellow creative director. I celebrated her promotion more than mine, because I’d much prefer my close friend not be reporting to me.
I never saw Nick again. It did turn out I wasn’t the only employee at Evolve he’d harassed. Margaret shared she suspected Nick had used a date rape drug on me. No evidence existed, and I chose not to pursue charges. But Evolve didn’t need any further proof to fire him for sexual harassment and inappropriate conduct since I had a witness in the office.
At Margaret’s insistence, I did meet with a therapist for several sessions. I found the experience to be positive. Hearing a third party tell me I wasn’t in the wrong meant more to me than I would have ever imagined. Talking through my emotions helped to mitigate my pain and fear.
Chase, Delilah, Olivia, Bobby, Jackson, and I gather around our outdoor picnic table. Back in the day when we were at Chapel Hill, we never hired movers. It was always a friends-helping-friends thing. This moment, drinking beer and eating pizza straight from the box, it’s bittersweet. This might be the last time we gather friends together to move. Next time, we’ll have real adult furniture. Like real, heavier-than-Ikea furniture that requires a moving truck and professional can-wrap-it-in-quilts movers.
Bobby holds up a glass. “A toast! Here’s to Anna and Jackson. Here’s to you finding such an insane apartment with a kick-ass terrace.”
Everyone clinks glasses. Chase holds his up and adds, “And just so you two are clear, we will be over here. A lot.”
The sound of laughter rings across the terrace. Jackson wraps his arm around me and softly kisses my forehead. Chewie moves from spot to spot on the terrace, sniffing. Our furry beast may love the terrace more than any of us.
“So, when are you two going to make this whole thing official?” Chase asks.
Jackson gazes at me and grins. He answers Chase, but those hazel eyes stay with me. “We are official. This is it.” His hand finds mine under the table and squeezes as I lean into him.
Yeah, he’s absolutely right. This is it. It being the relationship for me. The relationship where I am the best me. Maybe we could have had this four—well, now, five—years ago if I’d been less afraid of the whole relationship thing, of turning into who I was in a relationship with my high school boyfriend, of repeating mistakes. Maybe. But timing played a big part too. I don’t think I would have been strong enough or confident enough to be a good partner back then. I believe I would have slipped into old habits. Become dependent. Lost myself. I needed to walk away from Jackson before I could be with Jackson. I had to find myself on my own before I could find myself with someone else.
The sun sets, and the city lights grow brighter as day transitions to night. I sit back in Jackson’s arms, listening to our friends. The low hum of heat lamps surrounds us. Bobby kicks back, legs stretched out, beer in hand. Olivia entertains everyone with stories of her adventures in Prague. Delilah tells us about a recent speed dating event. Chase joins in the conversation from time to time. He’s working on lining up late-night plans with his flavor of the week.
Jackson kisses my ear and whispers, “We are official, right?”
I smile up at him. He doesn’t need to ask that. We’re cosigners on a mortgage. I whisper back, “Yeah, we’re official. I’m all yours. And you’re mine.”
His lips graze my cheek as he grumbles, “It’s about time.”
* * *
1 year later
Jackson
On my first date with Anna, I knew I’d marry her. Or, at least, I was fairly certain. A few months later, I was fairly certain I’d never been more wrong in my life.
Four years later, when those elevator doors opened, I had to blink several times. I couldn’t believe it was her. I’d seen her as a bad judgment call from my law school days. Someone I had no desire to cross paths with again.
I couldn’t believe I’d ended up in her apartment building. On her floor. Somewhere around the time I discovered she didn’t sleep with my roommate, it started to feel like kismet. Not that I believe in that kind of thing. But still, what are the odds?
I took it slow. Did I really want friends with benefits? Hell, no. Does anyone really believe friends with benefits works? It seemed like an excellent strategy, a way for me to get Anna without the timing obligation of a girlfriend. Who am I kidding? It was a way for me to get Anna without scaring her off. Without facing up to my feelings. Intense feelings that terrified me.
The day I left work early to surprise her and take her out to dinner…well, I knew then. I knew I wanted more than a girlfriend. I wanted her for life.
We’ve been living together for almost two years now, one year in this Chelsea apartment we bought together. I would have been more than happy to buy us a place, but that’s not how my girl rolls. And I’m okay with that. While, yes, I would like to take care of her, I’ll take her any way I can get her. I want her as my partner in life.
I bought a ring before we ever moved into the Chelsea apartment. It was kind of a backup Hail Mary plan if I pushed too hard and pissed her off during the stressful apartment hunting process.
Every day, I love coming home to her. Waking up with her. Going on our morning runs together. Watching her while she works at her computer or when she’s painting. Hearing about her day. Telling her about mine. If I leave for the office before she does, I still leave her a Post-it note by the coffee machine. Because, tradition.
She’s the love of my life. I’ve known this since our first date. I’ve questioned it at times, sure, but I haven’t questioned it since we’ve been living together. Even during heated disputes during sofa selection, I’ve never questioned it.
The ring sat in the back of my drawer for over a year. Not because I questioned us. Life just got busy.
I’ve been waiting for signs. Signs Anna is ready for the next step. Proof the timing’s right. I don’t walk on eggshells around her. That’s not me. And I know she’s all in. She’s committed to us. But I haven’t wanted to rush her.
She was recently promoted to group creative director. The promotion did come with more responsibility, managing more teams, overseeing more accounts. From my perspective, she’s become John’s right-hand man. We’ve become close to his family and went to his wife’s surprise birthday party last weekend.
I finally made senior partner. I’m now head of a new full-service M&A division for our firm. The division I lead brought in forty percent of our firm’s overall revenue last year. So, hell, yeah. Check. That. Box.
Anna has supported me every step of the way. If I have to work late or on weekends, she never complains. She’ll go into her home office or hang out on the couch and work away herself. Sometimes she paints, sometimes she works on her computer with campaigns. Our home is filled with her art, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Before Anna, work was my life. Anna stepped in, and didn’t take me away from work, but she added everything that matters to my life. Each day, I push myself to get home to her. Even if I have to bring work home, I’d rather work beside her, near her. Yeah, being named senior partner is a great milestone. But my life wouldn’t have meaning without Anna in it.
Yesterday, I discovered an EPT box below her bathroom sink when I was hunting for a Band-Aid. It could have been from ages ago, or it could be an unused box from when Olivia had a scare. She still has an IUD, so I doubt that EPT box is for her. Regardless, the box shone like a neon sign flashing a message. It’s time. Put a ring on it.
Total formality. We’re already committed. She is my forever. If she’s pregnant, my traditional side wants us to be married. Even if she’s not, it’s time. I want to believe Anna’s ready. My stomach is as unsettled as it used to be before a high school l
acrosse game.
I’ve thought of a million different ways to propose. I mean, I’ve had this ring for over a year. Finally, though, I decided my proposal should be at home. Our home where we’ve selected every single piece of furniture together, where the photographs on the walls and the paintings are hers. Our home—the place that holds so many of my favorite memories of us.
I’ve consulted with Delilah and Olivia, and to a lesser degree, Bobby. And to an even lesser degree, Chase.
The whole apartment is lit with candles. I bought a gourmet dinner from Zagar’s and set the oven to warm the food, placing everything in pans. My version of a homecooked meal.
She unlocks the door to our apartment, pushes it open, and immediately stops.
“What’s going on?” she asks as Chewie bounces out to greet her mommy.
I take her coat, close the heavy door, and plant a soft kiss on her neck then her lips. “Can’t I surprise you with a little romance?” I hold my hand out to Chu and say, “Place.” She trots off like the well-trained dog she is to her doggie bed.
Anna tilts her head up to me, a suspicious grin on her face. Then her arms wrap around my neck, and she pulls me down for a slow, passionate kiss. A kiss that makes me forget my entire plan. I’ve waited for over two years. Six years, if you want to go back to our first date. But suddenly, I can’t wait anymore.
I drop to one knee, right by our apartment door. We’re in the entry hall, and most of the candles I set up are at the end of the hall in the living area. But I need to do it now. Right now.
Her eyes widen. I think she might step back, but she doesn’t. Those golden-brown eyes start to glisten. This is it.
“Anna, you’ve been my partner for years now. You make me whole. You make me a better man. I’m committed to you for the rest of my life. Will you make it official? Will you marry me?”
She gasps a little. She can’t really be surprised, can she? I mean, it was a matter of when, not if.
She gets down on her knees, so she is my equal. She places both hands on my cheeks and pulls me in for a kiss. A soft kiss at first, and then as it starts to deepen, I break away.
“So, is that a yes?”
A few tears escape down her cheeks. “Yes.” She sniffles. “Of course, it’s a yes.”
I slip the ring on her finger, and she holds out her hand then grins. “I’ve been wondering when you’d think the timing was right.”
“Are you kidding me?” I suppress the urge to tickle her until she can’t breathe.
She bites her lip, fighting back a smile. “I found the ring ages ago. I’ve just been waiting.” She wiggles her ring hand and squints as she studies it. “I wasn’t sure why you were waiting. But I knew it would all work out.”
I hold her close. “How’d you know?”
Her cheeks blush. My girl doesn’t blush as often anymore. I squeeze her hip in a silent question. She hesitates, then tells me, “Moments before you moved into 82nd Street, a white pigeon flew around. Al said it was a sign. I didn’t think much of it. On the day we moved out, Al pulled me aside. Reminded me of the pigeon. Said a white pigeon is a sign of big change, an impending engagement. Said you and I, we’re meant to be.”
“A pigeon? That’s our sign?” My lips hover over hers.
“Nah. Not really. How I feel when you hold me? When you enter the room? That’s our sign.”
Afterword
I’ve read so many of these sections from other authors and it’s a bit surreal to be writing my own for my first book. I’m just gonna go with a JA Huss approach and free fall. I’ve read from plenty of authors that Book 1 had like 15 people read it, and I’m sure a small percentage read the acknowledgments, so this is for the 2 people who read this.
First, this book covers a heavy topic - sexual harassment. The kind of thing that happens to Anna happens to women all the time. Maybe not as aggressively, but to degrees. I was at a gathering of parent council mothers, and we were chatting about life in corporate America, and almost every single woman standing in the circle had a story to share. One of my early readers asked why Anna just didn’t go to HR, as if that was the easy answer. It’s not. I’d say it’s not even advisable to go to HR unless one absolutely must. There are so many reasons to not go to HR. One of the women in that circle was in HR and she agreed, saying that while she always is supportive and plays a friendly role (along the lines of ‘Call me Maggie’), HR is looking out for the company and has to launch a full investigation. They have to hear both sides. They can’t just choose one version over another. It works out for Anna because she wasn’t the only one and she had a witness. But without a doubt, going to HR is the equivalent of rolling dice. Not everyone has the Instagram following to add the #metoo and see the desired result.
There are self-defense groups that empower women by giving them defense moves should they ever be pinned against a wall. They aren’t full proof, but they are helpful. One group I am familiar with is SASS www.sassdefense.com. Self-defense training is a good idea for all women.
This book wouldn’t exist without my husband. When I first told him I wanted to try this - this being writing - he never laughed at me or told me I was out of my mind. He’s always been my biggest supporter. Admittedly, he loves this particular adventure and at first, he told his friends I was writing porn. I had to explain it’s not really porn, it’s called romance. So, he’s not perfect. But he is proud and supportive.
Along those same lines, I have a group of women friends. The sexy six. They were my first friends I “came out to” with this little endeavor of mine. These gals also never told me I was crazy. They’ve been supportive and I am forever thankful to have such a great group of amazing friends looking out for each other.
Ada and Jenn, the two of you are my first beta readers ever, and I’m so grateful to you both for your insight and feedback for this book and others along the way. It was super hard, for me, to let someone else read this and both of you made that first experience positive. And we romance writers know how important our firsts are.
Lori Whitwam took my unpolished draft, fixed all my errors, pointed out overused words and not only edited the piece but taught me so much. I’m looking forward to working with her in the future as I work to improve and grow as a writer.
Sarah Hanson from Okay Creations designed the cover and put up with all of my “oh, I don’t know” and “I have no idea what I’m doing” freak out moments. Thank you for your patience and for working to nail the covers for this series.
And, of course, thank you to S.K., my neighbor growing up, (and also a bridesmaid!), for our text exchanges on books, suggestions for authors to read, and your ongoing encouragement. So thankful for our friendship.
It’s a bit premature to thank Linn from A Novel Take PR and any bloggers who may choose to blog about this. This is one of those things that could fall so flat into failure land that no one at all reads it or reviews it positively or blogs at all about it. But, on the off chance someone out there does choose to read it and likes it, THANK YOU.
When The Stars Align Page 21
