I shifted out from under Hannah, moving slowly to keep my stomach from revolting, brushing the hair off her face as she drooled into my pillow, and pulled on sweats and a tee shirt.
Victoria Blackstone stood in the hallway, her expression impatient and hand lifted like she was ready to knock again.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” she said, lifting a tray with three coffees in offering, the strong acidic smell making my stomach churn.
She handed me a coffee, which I wanted to mainline into my bloodstream to offset the pounding headache. My stomach lurched at the first sip, and I had to swallow hard to keep it down. "How are you so functional right now?"
“No shots for me, I know how to deflect Alex's negotiations.” Then her smile softened. “Plus Cruz made me chilaquiles this morning.”
I groaned, my stomach protesting the idea of food, even salty hangover food. Maybe I could keep down some Saltines.
I stepped back, allowing her into my apartment. Her gaze swept the space—the worn hardwood floors, the secondhand coffee table, the couch I’d hauled across the country—and I felt a flash of self-consciousness, compounded by the fact that I was pretty sure I still smelled like tequila.
She sank onto the couch without hesitation, like the threadbare cushions didn’t bother her at all, and I wondered if she remembered it from the last time she’d visited my home, back in San Francisco.
Christmas Day, three years ago. We’d been working fourteen-hour days on a merger deal and planned to work straight through the holiday, but my mom had insisted that I invite Victoria and Alex over for a homemade Christmas dinner. So they'd driven up to Marin County for the day for a feast that Mom and I spent all morning putting together. Alex still talked about Mom's apple pie.
Though the thought of it right now made my stomach lurch.
“You missed quite the afterparty," Victoria said.
“Yeah?” I said, sitting beside her. “Alex was pretty wasted when I left.”
“It only got worse upstairs. He stuck his foot so far down his throat with his brother that he nearly choked on it.” She smiled fondly, shaking her head at Alex’s propensity to run his mouth.
"Sounds right," I nodded.
“But before that, we were talking about his hiring struggles.” Victoria turned towards the windows, blinking softly with a mile-long stare into the distance. In a soft voice, she said, “It got me thinking about my mom.”
I stilled, coffee halfway to my lips. In six years of daily conversation, Victoria had brought up her mom only a handful of times. It was hallowed ground we both tread carefully.
“When my mom died,” her expression softened, “God, it was so sudden. She kept so much information in her head, and when she was gone, everyone struggled to work without her.” She exhaled sharply. “I feel like I did that to Alex, leaving without notice.”
My chest tightened, remembering how fast that day had gone. Victoria’s dad came to our office to inform her that not only had her grandfather passed away, he’d named her as his heir and successor, thrusting her into not just leadership as CEO of a Fortune 100 company… but back into a life she’d tried to leave behind.
That morning, everything was normal. The next day, we'd both moved and she was facing a press conference of journalists to talk about her new life.
I placed my hand gently over hers. “You didn’t really have a choice, Tori,” I said, using her nickname to remind her that we were friends too, beyond just our professional relationship. “You suddenly had thousands of employees relying on you.”
“But I was also a partner in Blackstone & Clarke. And I took you with me, which left Alex high and dry.” She blinked rapidly, but her lip kicked up in a half smile. “You left everything well documented, way better than my mom did… but last night, Alex told me that he was worried about how it would run while he was on his honeymoon.”
She took a deep breath, like she was bracing herself for the impact of something she didn’t want to say. “And maybe I was feeling generous because of all the bourbon, but I told him that if you wanted to, you could stay here and cover for him while he’s gone next week.”
I felt my jaw drop open, and she tapped my chin condescendingly. “Don’t look too surprised. You know how Alex’s drunk ramblings and puppy dog eyes just make me want to shut him up.”
I laughed, but something tightened in my chest. That familiar feeling of being overlooked and unnecessary. “Don’t you need me in New York?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “But I’m considering this as an opportunity to see how you handle running operations at a smaller scale. Alex needs someone who understands how the firm operates. You built half those systems. It makes sense for you to oversee things while he’s on his honeymoon, train his team in his—”
The bedroom door opened and Hannah appeared in the doorway, wearing my 49ers t-shirt and nothing else, her hair a wild tangle around her face, her eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Connor? I heard—” Her voice died as her gaze landed on Victoria, her hand flying to tug the hem of the shirt lower.
Victoria rose smoothly. “Ms. Donnelly, good morning.”
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—” Hannah’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’ll just—”
She disappeared into the bedroom before I could say anything.
