“But hear me out … what if she saysyesthis time?”
His chest tightens at the possibility. “I don’t know, Danica.”
Danica sighs, bracing her elbows against the kitchen island. “She might not have been ready back then,” she says. “Timing matters. It’s important. She might have been going through things that you will never understand. I know you said she had things going on with her parents, with her ex, withlife.Just, please. Try one more time. She’s worth it. She’s different. You’re different with her.”
“I don’t know, the past few weeks made me realize that I’m not in a good place.”
She snorts. “When is anyone ever in a ‘good place’ when they meet The One? And so what? Does that mean you’re supposed to put your life on pause?”
At this, he laughs. “The One?”
“Yeah, you know, boy meets girl, they fall in love, mom loves her, they live happily ever after. She’s your girl from the story,” she says, patting his back lightly before moving to kiss Lucy on the head. “Oh, here. Before I forget.”
She drops a white envelope on the table.
“It’s the Thanksgiving film. Mom finally got it developed.”
“Oh, nice.”
She smirks. “Yeah, there are some … interesting photos in there. Take a gander when you’re feeling up to it.”
Before he can ask her what she means, she’s out the front door. Reaching forward, he lifts the flap, a slow warmth filling his chest as he thumbs through the pictures. After most of them,he starts to lose interest—until a particular head of hair catches his eye.
And suddenly his heart is leaping into his throat. Sliding the picture out, his eyes take in her dark braids, brown lips, and somber expression.
Typical Jahlani.
Except she isn’t looking at the camera—she’s looking at him. And maybe it’s agiant fucking leap, but it’s enough to seal one of the cracks in his chest.
CHAPTER 37
STEP INTO IT
JAHLANI
One Month Later
“Ms. Jones, you’re needed in the conference room.”
Jahlani sits up in her chair, looking over her monitor to stare at her assistant, Bonnie. She has eclectic tastes and is currently sporting two pigtails, a polka-dot top, and striped socks with peaches that reach her knees.
“It’s just Jahlani, Bonnie,” she says in thepolitestway she can muster. Bonnie continues to smile, holding the door to her office open. It’s been a little over a month and she still can’t quite figure her out.
Jahlani frowns, rising to grab her notepad. “Is something wrong with the Hudson report?”
Bonnie shrugs, adjusting her laptop, notepad, and pens. “I think it’s a snag with another client’s data.” And then in a lower voice she adds, “Between you and me, Austin has beenslackingsince his divorce. It’s not looking good for him.”
Jahlani and Bonnie bypass his office, seeing his face pressed into the desk. Bonnie winces, shaking her head as her heels click across the floor. The glass walls of the conference room reflectthe faint glow from the city’s lights, though the tables inside are untouched, chairs neatly arranged around them as if waiting for the first sign of dawn.It’s late, most having already left for the day.
Bonnie pushes open the third conference-room door, and Jahlani gauges the atmosphere. Two women sit across from her boss, Monique Chamberlin. The faint hum of the projector is the only sound she hears as she sinks into the chair beside Monique.
“Jahlani, thank you for joining us. This is Ember and Anna Mayfair.”
Standing, Jahlani reaches out to give them both ahopefully firm,confidenthandshake that doesn’t display any signs of how she just might possibly expel her leftover burrito from two hours ago. Monique doesn’t waste a second, sliding over a manila folder of data. They then spend the next thirty minutes reviewing the portfolio.
“What do you recommend, Jahlani?”
Every eye in the room lands on her and she freezes becauseMonique Fucking Chamberlinjust asked for her input.
