No Going Back

by Ainsley Kincade

  “I was pretty upset,” I said, not sure what the point was behind the conversation, but feeling the need to defend myself.

  The elevator arrived and we stepped in. There were two others waiting behind us, but neither one made a move to join our duo. While I wasn’t sure what to make of that, Marie continued on. “Any reasonable woman would have been.” She turned to face me once the doors closed. “If you’re going to date him, you’ve got to get comfortable putting yourself on equal ground with him.”

  “But he’s my boss,” I argued.

  “For the time being,” Marie said. It seemed completely innocuous as she said it, but my stomach tightened as I wondered what she meant. She remained oblivious. “Outside of work, if you can’t show him you’re strong enough to stand up to his need to control everything, it won’t last.”

  We reached the ground floor, startling me since I hadn’t even noticed what floor she’d chosen when we got into the elevator. My office was on the third floor, as was my lunch. When Marie marched into the lobby with what seemed to be an expectation that I’d follow, I shrugged and did exactly that.

  “Why do you care?” I asked. “If our relationship works out, I mean.”

  Marie laughed. “Because Donovan is my friend, but mostly for more selfish reasons.”

  We pushed out onto the street, and I began to wonder where she was taking me. “And what reasons are those?”

  Glancing over at me, Marie gave me an appraising look. “You should know the answer to that question, but since you don’t, I’ll tell you. I don’t want a bad breakup to cause you to leave the magazine. My plans for you have never been far off from Donovan’s, but for different reasons. Rest assured, I have no intention of trying to get you into bed with me.”

  She chuckled as a blush spread through my face. “Good to know,” I said, “but what plans?”

  “Oh,” she said, clearly amused, “he still hasn’t shared that?” She chuckled and waited for a doorman to open the door to a classy restaurant I’d never been to before. Marie walked in as if she owned the place. We were immediately seated and she didn’t pick up our conversation until drink orders had been taken. Only then did she return her focus to my question.

  “Donovan wanted you from the moment you walked into his office.” She laughed. “Because of what had happened with Keira, he refused to contemplate the idea of dating you while you worked for him, even though Keira never officially worked for the magazine and had only stepped in to model a few times on piecework. He still considered her a coworker of sorts because of her modeling for him. He knew you’d be a success, even if your fashion sense left something to be desired, and decided that he’d help you develop your skills and guide you toward promotions that would put you under me, instead of him. You’d still be close by, but not his employee, and then he’d be free to act.” Marie rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her wine. “Asinine in my eyes, but I put up with it.”

  Hardnosed as Marie was, it was surprising she had. Even given their longstanding relationship. I doubted Marie extended the same consideration to many others. I knew there had never been a sexual relationship between them, but there did seem to be something akin to a sibling dynamic. Which was curious.

  “So what changed?” I asked. “Why did he break from his plan?”

  “Blue balls?” Marie laughed at her own joke before becoming more serious. “Honestly, he needed someone he could count on in a pinch, and you were it. Asking you to deal with Brandon forced his hand, and I may have pushed him a little more, which I have a habit of doing.” A small hint of guilt laced her words, making me even more curious. What else had she pushed him to do?

  Our salads arrived, giving me time to collect my thoughts, something I needed. As the server left, I asked, “Why are we here?”

  Marie’s lips spread into a calculating smile. “I want your help with something.”

  “Another photoshoot?” I asked, though I knew this request was of a more personal nature.

  She passed off my question and got to her point. “I may have lied to Donovan about something, and when he finds out, he’s going to be furious with me. I felt I had to do it, though.”

  Really not keen on getting involved in something like that, I was hesitant to say anything. Her gaze boring a hole through me insisted upon an answer. “What was the lie?”

  “Donovan probably didn’t mention this to you because he’s loath to participate, but a local charity has asked him to contribute an original photograph to an auction that will raise money for arts in the school programs.” She paused, making sure I took in the full meaning of her words. Contributing meant picking up his camera again, which he was terrified of doing. When I nodded, she continued. “He was angry enough about the request, I didn’t tell him what charity, specifically, the photograph would be for.”

  I couldn’t imagine why that would matter. Being the one behind the camera again should have been the most difficult part for him, in my mind anyway. Perhaps he had particular issues with this charity? I had no idea, so I was forced to ask. “What is the charity?”

  For the first time since I’d known her, Marie looked uncomfortable. “The Keira Marpole Arts Foundation,” she finally said. “Her parents just launched it…the night you met with Brandon.”

  Understanding hit me and I felt sick to my stomach. “That was the dinner date he couldn’t cancel.”

  Marie grimaced. “Yes. Neither one of us was comfortable with the foundation being formed when her murderer still hasn’t been caught, but we went out of respect for her family. Donovan took it particularly hard.”

  Which explained why he’d gone to Charlie’s that night and wanted company rather than a phone call. The twisting of my stomach intensified. What Marie was asking me to help her with was to not only get her friend back behind a camera where he belonged, but to do so for an organization he was conflicted about and held a mountain of guilt over the reason behind its formation. He’d told me explicitly that he believed his photography had been responsible for Keira’s death. Now Marie wanted him to do something that would be seen as celebrating her legacy, in the exact way he believed he’d gotten her killed.

  All of those thoughts squirmed uncomfortably in my mind until one other joined the fray and threw everything else into chaos. “I offered to sit for him.”

  “You did?” Marie said happily, making me realize I’d spoken out loud. “That’s wonderful, exactly the motivation he needs. So you’re on board?”

  Looking up, I met her gaze and grimaced. That’s why he left last night. It began to make more sense, which only served to deepen my uncertainty about the whole idea. Marie had already asked him to contribute an original photograph, then I offered to sit for him out of the blue? I could now imagine the horde of agonizing emotions that had brought up.

  “Reagan,” Marie said, “I know this seems underhanded, not telling him who the photograph is for, but he needs this. He needs to let go of his guilt and move on. It’s eating at him. I’ve watched it slowly chip away at him over the years, and you’re the first person to renew some of the light in him I used to see on a daily basis. He won’t do this for anyone else, but he has to before he ends up like Cyrus.”

  I could see it happening. He held up under his guilt when he didn’t have to think about it too often. Concentrate, look more closely, and it was consuming him. Before Marie’s proposal, I’d already wanted the same thing, to see him doing what he loved again. To banish such a large part of who he was and what he found joy in had to cause him pain. Healing that, or at least beginning to, had been my motivation behind offering to sit for him.

  Maybe it had to be more than that.

  “Okay,” I said quietly.

  Marie grinned while I wondered if I was making a huge mistake.

  TEN

  Thank You

  I hadn’t seen Reagan come back after lunch. Knowing Marie planned to abduct her for the hour, I had kept my promise and not attempted to intervene. It wasn’t until
just past three o’clock that I spotted her walking past my office in the direction of Adam’s cubicle. He owed her work, so I assumed she was on her way to prod him along, and still didn’t interfere. For nearly two hours, I debated with myself, on more than one subject.

  Should I agree to contribute to Rudolph’s charity?

  Should I ask Reagan to dinner again? Where? At my apartment? At hers?

  Should I back off on both accounts and get my head straight?

  That last question caused a pain to lodge itself right up under my ribs. Having experienced being with Reagan, the idea of backing off made me sick. I wanted her, needed her. I’d spent a year working toward building a relationship with her, one of trust and friendship. Not having her near me after work hours made my entire body tense up.

  Her offer to sit for me had been completely unexpected. I didn’t doubt it came from a place of compassion and concern. I’d watched her spend the past year cultivating the people who worked under her, building them up and encouraging them even when they failed. She had a kind heart, even if it was guarded.

  I couldn’t deny there were similarities between her and Keira, but that wasn’t what had attracted me to her. Not exactly. Having been raised in a home where service and community were valued, I naturally looked for that in a potential partner. When I met Keira, she was a few years older than me, but took me under her wing and pushed me to develop my talents and grow as an artist and person. I loved her for that long before we started dating.

  With Reagan, even though I had been attracted to her from that first meeting, over the past year my interest had grown from purely sexual to something deeper, more meaningful than I’d even experienced with Keira. I didn’t just want Reagan in my bed, I wanted her in my life on a long term basis. Marie was right that I hadn’t been pushed to move forward by anyone as I had been by Reagan. Something about her made me want to stop holding back and rediscover the joy I’d once known.

  Could I do that without putting her at risk?

  Finally unable to stand sitting with my thoughts a second longer, I stalked out of my office and down the hall to Reagan’s. She jumped when I pushed into her office unannounced, but didn’t ask me to leave. “I can order in dinner,” I said. “Your place or mine. Wherever you’re more comfortable. If…you’re willing.”

  I found myself holding my breath, something I hadn’t done when talking to a woman since my freshman year in high school, before I hit a growth spurt and the girl’s finally took notice of me. Pinning down why I needed her near me tonight was elusive, but I silently pled with her to not deny me.

  Expecting reservation, I was surprised when she smiled. “Dinner together would be nice. Do you mind coming to my place? I have some files there I need for tomorrow.”

  A spark of something primal lit up in the center of my chest. What she was saying was that wherever we ate dinner, we’d likely also spend the night. Relief washed through me on such a profound level I felt my shoulders drop as the tension seeped out of me. “What would you like me to order?”

  She shrugged. “I trust your taste.” A smile followed her words, and I wasn’t completely sure I understand where it was coming from, but I chose not to question.

  “All right, well, no blaming me if you’re disappointed.”

  Her smile grew. “I haven’t been so far.”

  Not wholly trusting her relaxed attitude, I decided to bail before it crumbled. “I’ll be back in thirty to walk you down to your car then.”

  She seemed pleased with the offer, rather than irritated, so I took my good fortune at face value and slipped out of her office. Back at my desk, I accomplished more in that thirty minutes than I had all afternoon. That whole morning, I’d wondered how working with Marie would go for her. My boss could be rigid and demanding, but when she saw potential in someone, she was the type of person who knew how to draw it out rather than quash it.

  The year I’d started working at the magazine, Marie had held Reagan’s position. Within a year, she was promoted. Before that, she’d managed to teach me everything I needed to know about directed photoshoots and fulfilling requests while still maintaining individual creativity. I knew she had similar intentions with Reagan. My taking a sudden veering turn in my own plans had likely altered hers a bit and I wasn’t sure what to expect.

  Judging by the good mood Reagan was in, it must have gone better than I’d hoped for. Which either meant Marie was very happy with Reagan’s work, or she was playing games. It was impossible to know which.

  By 5:59, I was shutting down my computer and grabbing my phone. Dinner was ordered by the time I made it to her office and set to be delivered to her address. For the second time, I didn’t knock before entering, and caught her squinting at her computer screen with a frown.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  She sighed. “Oh, just the software giving me fits. I’ve turned the ‘snap to’ function off, but it keeps doing it regardless. The last update IT installed had been extremely buggy.”

  Walking around her desk, I reached over her and took control of the mouse. Clicking through options, I made changes to several settings before going back to the layout mockup she was working on and moving the image she’d been fighting with further from the bleed zone.

  “How did you know to do that?” she demanded.

  “Ran into the same problem yesterday.”

  Huffing, she glared up at me. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for an hour.”

  A grin split my mouth. “Next time, ask for help.”

  She scrunched her nose at me before turning away to save her work and shut down her computer. In the middle of the process, she seemed to lose track of the steps and sighed. “I can’t think with you this close to me. You smell too good.”

  Chuckling as I backed up a few steps, I asked. “Better.”

  Exhaling, she finished what she was doing and swiveled her chair to face me. “What’s your history with Marie? She seems to regard you as a little brother of sorts.”

  I laughed, knowing Marie would not appreciate such a sentimental comparison. “I think we started out as something more akin to mentor and protégé, but that eventually morphed into regular old friends. She pretends to be a hard ass while reminding me now and again that she really does care.” I shrugged. “It’s how she works and I don’t question it.”

  “Hmm,” Reagan said.

  Her response required follow up. “Why do you ask?”

  Reagan shrugged. “Oh, no reason, she just talked about you a lot at lunch. Definitely seemed to be more than boss-employee, but I’m an only child, so what do I know about sibling-type relationships.”

  She stood then, and commenced searching her office for her purse. I was beginning to realize this was a daily ritual. Picking it up from beneath a stack of papers, I held it out to her. She smiled, a slight blush forming on her cheeks, and thanked me before grabbing it before tucking it under her arm. I knew I might be pushing her, but I needed to touch her in that moment and slid my arm around her waist. She hesitated for just a moment before relaxing into the contact. When we reached the elevator, she laid her head against my shoulder and yawned.

  The ride down to the lobby seemed shorter than usual. The walk to my car over even quicker. I didn’t want her to continue on to her own car, but I knew it didn’t make sense to ask her to ride with me. As though she were waiting for it, she paused before walking away.

  “You remember how to get to my apartment?”

  I nodded.

  She pursed her lips, then nodded as well. “See you there in a few minutes then.”

  Before she could say what might have really been on her mind, she hurried away from me toward the stairwell to the lower garage floors. I didn’t like the idea of her walking on her own. She hadn’t given me a chance to offer to accompany her, and the door was banging shut before I thought to do something. It occurred to me that I could get her an assigned space on the same floor as my car, but she would see that as a sp
ecial favor in exchange for fucking her boss, and I immediately tossed it away.

  Sighing, I got into my SUV and drove to the garage entrance, waiting until her car emerged from the lower levels to leave. The drive to her place was riddled by traffic and a never-ending string of stoplights. My patience had hit its limit by the time we finally pulled up to her building. The moment she stepped out of her car and leaned against it, waiting for me, my frustration vanished.

  I was next to her a few seconds later and we walked up to her door in comfortable silence. With no elevator to take us up the three flights, we were forced to walk. My earlier wonderings about her living arrangements resurfaced and I spoke before thinking. “Why haven’t you moved somewhere better?”

  Reagan looked up at me, surprised by my question. “I guess, I just didn’t trust things would work out at the magazine and I was afraid of moving.”

  It was hard not to laugh. “Why would you doubt moving up at the magazine? Reagan, you’re extremely talented and smart. I’d be screwed without you.”

  She frowned. “I just…” Shaking her head, she continued up the stairs, leaving me to catch up.

  We reached her door, but I couldn’t stand not getting a straight answer and cornered her against it. “Why are you afraid of your own success?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she argued.

  I refused to back down. Pressing in closer, her keys were fisted in her right hand, but my closeness made it impossible for her to do anything about. The scratches and scuffs marring her apartment door stood out even more profoundly as I closed in. “Why are you still living here?” I demanded.

  She was breathing hard by then, squeezing her lips together, clenching her jaw to keep the words inside. When I stepped closer, putting us chest to chest, she gasped and bit her bottom lip so hard she winced in pain. Not wanting her to feel even the smallest hurt, my thumb pressed against her bottom lip and pulled it out from between her teeth. She whimpered, begging herself not to cave to my demands but helpless to resists in that moment.