by Reese Ryan
There is something about this...thing that’s happening between Raine and I that makes me feel the same way. Hopeful. Everything is fresh and new. Like the first snow.
The past three months have been sweet and wonderful. Those first three weeks in San Francisco were a mad dash to spend every possible moment together. We spent most of our time getting to know every detail of each other’s bodies.
Yet in the absence of physicality, something amazing has happened. The relationship between us has blossomed exponentially as we’ve put the same effort and energy into exploring each other’s minds and hearts.
I miss the smell of his cologne. The feel of his skin against mine. Yet our relationship has become more intimate during those late-night conversations. I can tell him almost anything.
I often muse about the past and about how much I miss my father. It’s been therapeutic. My family doesn’t talk about it much. It’s been six years, and the wound still seems fresh.
When my father died, we assumed certain roles.
My mother had to be strong. She soldiered through every holiday, wedding and family celebration as if nothing happened. She hasn’t shed a tear in front of us since the day of the funeral. In her room—where she thought we couldn’t hear—she cried every night. Mom wore sunglasses for months after my father died. She said she was feeling very Jackie O. Still, every day she put on her makeup, got dressed and faced the world with a smile.
Mimi became the people-pleaser—more specifically, the mom-pleaser. If she could make Mom happy, Mimi reasoned, perhaps she’d get past the pain of losing Dad. So Mimi settled down, got married and gave my mother the grandbabies she wanted so desperately. She put her career on hold and became a stay-at-home mother because Mom thought it best.
Jamie took on the role of protector. She was like a Chihuahua, sniffing at anyone suspicious who came around. Barking her head off whenever she sensed danger.
I became the ostrich. The one who shoves her head in the sand and hopes the unbearable pain will simply go away if I ignore it long enough. I went through the weeks and months after my father’s death as if it were a bad dream. If I wished hard enough, I’d wake up and everything would be okay.
Deep down I’ve always known this about my family, but talking to Raine about it has been cathartic. He knows exactly what to say and when it’s best to say nothing at all. I always feel better after our late-night chats.
Raine prefers to discuss the present and plan for the future. The passion he has for his work is contagious. He’s thrilled about successful graduates of the program. Every failed participant breaks his heart a little—even when he’s done everything he can to help them succeed.
Sipping my tea, I settle into the couch for a few moments of peace before I pull out my laptop and go to work. I think about my conversation with Raine last night.
“I miss you,” he said.
“I’d think you’d be sick of me by now. You probably hear me in your sleep—whining about one thing or another.”
“I do hear you in my sleep. The noise you’re making isn’t whining, though.”
My cheeks flushed and I tried to muffle a giggle. “This is why people avoid long-distance relationships,” I reminded him. “Fantasies unfulfilled.”
“That’s why they invented commuter planes.” He was silent for a moment. “I need to see you.”
“You know I want to see you,” I said after what must have seemed like forever to him. “But I can’t come to San Francisco right now. I’m in the midst of an intense marketing campaign. I need to demonstrate that my branch is viable.”
“I could come there,” he offered. “Just for the weekend.”
“I can’t let you spend that much on a weekend with me.”
“I’m not indigent. I have a job, you know.” He sounded more amused than angry.
“Please don’t spend your money on a ticket,” I insisted. “I’ll be in San Francisco in January. We’ll have three days to spend together then. No work. I promise.”
“That’s three months from now,” he groaned.
“Now who’s whining?” I teased.
“Can you blame me? At least tell me what you’re wearing. Give a brother something to look forward to.”
I looked down at my dingy old baseball shirt and gray sweats, glad we’d opted for a phone conversation that night rather than our usual Skype chat. “I’m wearing the black lace nightie.”
“Ahh... Brings back memories.”
A smile spread across my face. It brought back memories for me, too. “If anything else made sense right now, I’d love to see you in person, in this nightie. But our memories will have to hold us for now. Okay?”
Raine was quiet for a moment before finally conceding. We said good night, and I’ve been thinking about him every waking moment since. Now it’s time for me to get back to work.
I try to focus as I pore over dossiers my assistant prepared on local companies. She’s been a godsend. Leslie is thorough, organized, resourceful, prompt and outgoing but not too talkative. She’s the perfect assistant.
After nearly four hours I shuffle into the kitchen, turn on the kettle and refill my teacup.
It’s been snowing steadily for the past four hours and the temperature has dropped considerably. I peek out my window again. The little boys and their mom make their way back to their car—now covered in a thick blanket of snow. They leave a trail of deep footprints behind them.
The boys scrape snow off the hood of the car to form snowballs. They hurl them at each other and fall out laughing. Their mother struggles to find her keys amid the flying snowballs. I think about my sister and rambunctious nephews.
Mickey and Dusty are adorable with their brown saucer eyes and dark, curly heads of hair. Behind those sweet faces lurk two of the most mischievous minds I’ve ever encountered. Yet they are also thoughtful and sensitive.
Mickey has an uncanny ability to sense the feelings of others, even in the midst of the noise and chaos he and his brother create.
“No, ask Daddy,” I heard Mickey tell his brother the other day. “Mommy needs a time-out right now.”
I looked over at my sister. An internal meltdown was in progress. Mimi never yells or screams. She keeps everything inside like a boiling pot of rice with the lid on tight. Eventually it boils over, leaving a sticky mess.
I offered to finish making the sweet potato casserole she was working on and keep an eye on the boys. She went for a nice long walk. Meltdown averted.
My sister’s life isn’t perfect, but she loves it. She’s happy, despite all the crazy moments—pans crashing together like cymbals, bickering, minor falls that leave one child screaming as if inches away from death. Near meltdowns aside, she loves being a mother. She loves Marcus, despite his faults.
I envy my sister’s happiness.
Mimi is content—not because she doesn’t want more out of life but because she’s determined to enjoy each moment of her life. I love that about my sister. I wish I could be more like her.
Chapter Thirteen
Over the past few weeks I’ve been feeling more than a little stressed. Many of the contacts I was counting on to grow the business are no longer in business themselves or they’ve moved on to a different industry.
The Great Lakes branch is making slow, steady progress. But certainly not enough to impress Damien Jasper. I could practically hear the disappointment in his voice on our most recent conference call.
To make matters worse, Lita Jeffries, my closest friend at J&G, called me last week to warn me. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mel, but word around the office is that this promotion is do-or-die for you. Did you piss Damien off or something?”
“Or something,” I say, thinking of that night two years ago. “How sure are you about this?”
�
�My intel is solid. Comes from my connection upstairs,” she whispered into the receiver. “Apparently Damien never wanted to open a branch in the Great Lakes region. Mr. Graevel insisted on it.”
I nearly hyperventilated. “So you’re saying Damien set me up to fail?”
Lita sighed. “Damien can be a dick, but this is his company, too. He’s all about the numbers. So wow him.”
“What if I can’t—”
“You can and you will,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re smart and you’re a damn good recruiter. Make this happen. Whatever it takes. I know you can do this.”
I took a deep breath and promised I would. Then I spent the rest of the evening downing a half a bottle of chardonnay as I pored over my marketing plans for the next few months. I’ve spent the past three days rethinking everything. I need to jump-start things, so I’ve decided to try a different tactic.
Mimi gave me tickets to a networking event at the House of Blues. The only thing I hate more than networking is attending a networking event alone. I’ve shanghaied Leslie for the afternoon, despite her fervent protests.
Leslie looks sharp in a smart black suit and a pair of pumps. But her discomfort is evident. She wrings her hands and fidgets with the collar of her blouse. Slipping bright red fingernails through her glossy, sable hair again, she tugs on it, allowing it to fall over her left shoulder. Leslie’s wide-set, almond-shaped eyes blink as her gaze darts around the room.
“Relax, you look great,” I tell her. “Better than most of the folks here. Doesn’t anyone dress up for these things anymore?”
Leslie laughs and takes a sip of her cranberry juice. “They do realize they’re not here for a concert, right?” She subtly uses her head to indicate a guy in a pair of muddy boat shoes, wrinkled khakis and a faded polo shirt.
“Maybe he’s a leftover from the Air Supply cover band last night.”
Leslie laughs. She’s more relaxed now. She cocks an eyebrow at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be mingling?”
Cringing, I sink into a high-back chair at our café table. “I hate these events. Networking isn’t my thing.”
“But it’s a major part of your job. You said so yourself,” she reminds me. “I’m here for moral support, not to be a crutch.”
“Alright.” I sigh and take a gulp of my club soda. “Just let me finish my drink and I’ll make the rounds. Which reminds me...” I fish in my bag for a small box and hand it to her. “I’ve been meaning to give these to you.”
Leslie’s eyes grow large. She reaches for the box and opens it slowly. She gasps as she pulls out one of the cards and looks at it. “Leslie Morales, Office Manager, Jasper & Graevel Personnel Services, Great Lakes Branch,” she reads aloud then looks at me with glassy eyes. “I’ve never had business cards before. Thank you for giving me this opportunity. It means so much to me.”
“I’m lucky to have you.” I smile.
Leslie hugs me then says, “I appreciate the cards and everything, but I’m not letting you off the hook. Now get out there and mingle.”
I snap my fingers. “It was a nice try though, wasn’t it?”
She tries not to smile as she points in the direction of the general crowd. “Go.”
I pull my business card case out of my bag and stick it in my jacket pocket before trudging toward the guy in wrinkled khakis nibbling on a piece of voodoo shrimp.
After pressing the flesh with nearly every person in the room, I’m in desperate need of a few squirts of hand sanitizer. I head back to our table, where three other people now have their stuff parked, too. Leslie hasn’t ventured far from the table all afternoon, but I’ve seen her talking to at least a dozen people. She’s brimming with confidence as she speaks animatedly to a gentleman whose back is to me.
“Here’s my boss now, Mr. Payne,” she says. “I’d like you to meet the regional talent acquisition manager of the Great Lakes branch of Jasper & Graevel Personnel Services—Ms. Melanie Gordon.”
I freeze, a wooden smile plastered on my face. Did she say Payne? I focus on the man as he turns to greet me. I cannot believe my remarkably bad fortune. Cleveland may not be a major metropolis, but it isn’t Mayberry either. This town is big enough that I shouldn’t have to run into my ex.
Jaxson Payne flashes a repentant smile. One that begs me not to cause a scene or out him as the complete and utter jerk he is. He’s as handsome as ever. His skin looks smooth and warm, like melted dark chocolate. His tongue juts out and skims across his lower lip as he presses his wide mouth and full lips into that damned spine-dissolving smirk I’d fallen prey to far too many times. Framed by thick, neat brows, Jaxson’s dark eyes gleam with a smile even more sinister than the one on those...oh-so-kissable lips. He still sports a low Caesar cut, only he’s ditched the brush waves.
My hands twitch at my side, remembering how I’d once run them over his soft, ebony hair. His familiar scent—masculine yet utterly delicious—fills my nostrils. An involuntary gasp escapes my lips as feelings of longing and hatred battle inside my chest and prickle my eyelids. I seriously want to bitch-slap myself for feeling anything more than pure, unadulterated contempt for this man. My legs threaten to give way beneath me as I tremble slightly, frozen in place.
“Melanie Gordon,” he says, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence between us. “It’s wonderful to see you again. You look fantastic.”
He leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. My stomach churns. The crispy catfish fingers and calamari I’ve eaten threaten to snake its way up my esophagus. I take a deep breath. I’ve made several quality contacts at this event. I’m not about to blow it by making a scene.
Don’t forget to breathe. I nod, my smile still frozen in place. “It’s been a long time. How are you? How’s your family?”
Leslie senses how tense I am. She looks apologetic.
“Leslie, I’d like you to meet someone,” an older gentleman with snow-white hair and a handsome suit approaches our table.
She looks at me and mouths the words, “I’m sorry,” before excusing herself and being led away.
“Mom’s doing very well.” Jaxson grips the back of the bar stool. “I’ll tell her you asked about her.”
“Fantastic. How ’bout the wife and kids?” I spit the words out like I’ve just bitten into a hunk of Limburger cheese. The acrimony with which I’ve stated this even takes me by surprise. I clutch on to that anger, and the momentary desire I felt for him slowly retreats in defeat. My mouth twists in a smirk.
“They’re good,” he says, his eyes on the wall behind me. “How about you? How’ve you been? How long have you been back in Cleveland? I thought you were in San Diego.”
“San Francisco.” I’m doing a miserable job of feigning ambivalence. “I moved back a few months ago to start the Great Lakes branch of J&G.”
“Congratulations, kid. I always knew amazing things were in store for you.”
The hair on the back of my neck bristles, hearing him use the Humphrey Bogart reference that was once a term of affection. “Thanks,” I say calmly. “What about you? What are you doing with yourself these days, besides the whole wife-and-kids thing?”
Dammit! Someone stop me. Please.
A pained look crosses his face. “I’m in personnel management for the Monarchs. I guess Mimi didn’t tell you.”
My eyes widen. I step back, one hand to my throat, head turned slightly, avoiding his eyes. There’s steady, pounding in my left temple and over my right eye.
I’m going to kill my sister. I know we promised never to mention Jaxson Payne again, but the fact that she works with my ex is certainly the kind of thing a girl likes to know.
“I guess she forgot to mention it.” My voice wavers slightly.
“Well, she’s busy with the kids and everything,” he says. “She’s got a lot on her mind. Which is pro
bably why she also forgot to mention you were back in town, even though I asked about you the other day.”
I cut my eyes at him. I don’t know who I’m angrier with—Mimi or Jaxson. Either way, I need some fresh air and a stiff drink, preferably in that order. I reach past him and yank my bag out of the chair. “I have to go. I have a lot to do back at the office.”
“I’m about done here myself.” Jaxson slips my coat off the back of the chair and helps me into it. “Do you mind if I walk you back to your office?”
“Why?” I take a huge step backward. Jax reaches his arms out toward me. I step back farther, stumbling over Leslie’s bag on the floor. Apparently this is what he was trying to warn me about.
My cheeks sting and my heart races. I look around to see if anyone else saw my near somersault. They’re lost in conversation or rummaging through what’s left of the appetizers. I calm down a little and focus on buttoning my coat.
“I’m sorry, Melanie.” A slight grin spreads across Jaxson’s face.
I’d hoped he’d gotten wrinkled, toothless and bald. Instead, he’s gotten more handsome with age.
He puts his hands up, his palms facing me. “Don’t get the wrong idea. We have a couple of key executive positions to fill and I could really use your help.”
Is he serious? There’s no one in the world I want to spend time with less than Jaxson Payne. But landing a lucrative executive search contract with a professional sports organization is just the kind of thing that would impress Damien Jasper. It would be a major coup for my office, and the potential of referrals to other professional sports organizations would be invaluable.
I want to tell Jaxson how much I hate him, put a curse on his great-grandchildren. But the carrot he’s dangling is far too tasty to allow my loathing to interfere. Despite my personal feelings for Jaxson, he’s in a position to help me. He used me for four years. It’s time I return the favor.
