Moreover, I was making friends and finding my rhythm in a city that had once felt impossibly large and unfamiliar, and then there was Jesse. An entire category on his own.
My phone buzzed on my desk for at least the fifth time this morning and I didn’t even try to hide my smile as I glanced down at it.
Jesse: Have you eaten or are you surviving on spite and caffeine again?
Me: I’ll have you know that spite is nutritious.
Jesse: Be that as it may, I’m sending something even better.
I rolled my eyes, but there was a warmth in my chest I just couldn’t quite shake. No matter what, he texted me throughout the day, and if I couldn’t leave my desk, lunch would arrive within minutes of him confirming that I’d not yet eaten. It was excessive, honestly, and yet, it was also kind of sweet.
The man made me feel things I’d never thought someone like me could actually feel after having my heart shattered, but today felt off. I didn’t quite know why. Only that we’d woken up this morning to rain, a steady, gray downpour that made the whole city feel heavier, and somehow, it felt like that had put doubts in my gut.
I stood from my desk, stretching before grabbing my mug for a coffee refill. This strange feeling was probably just a caffeine deficiency. When I approached the break room, however, I noticed a small cluster of people huddled together, whispering.
The second they saw me, they scattered like I’d walked in on them committing a crime. I frowned but kept going, trying not to take it personally even if something definitely felt wrong.
Barely three steps later, Miranda called my name. “Jacque? Can you come in here for a second?”
I turned to see her standing in her office doorway, waving me over with urgency. My heart tripped over itself, but I went over, closing the door behind me while she moved to shut the blinds like we were about to conduct a covert operation.
“Should I be concerned?” I asked slowly.
“No, but we are. If you need to take time off to be there for your boyfriend and his family during this difficult time, I completely understand. It’s no big deal.”
I blinked hard, finally registering the sympathetic softness of her features and the worry in her eyes. “My what now? What are you talking about?”
For a split second, I thought, perhaps irrationally, that someone had died. Jesse or maybe one of his brothers.Even someone else in that sprawling, intimidating family. My stomach dipped as Miranda frowned, confusion flickering across her face. “You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?” I asked. “Please just tell me. Is he okay?”
“Well, I don’t know about okay. Physically, I’m sure he is,” she said, already reaching for her phone. “It just hit the local news sites. I assumed you’d seen it.”
“I’ve been buried in a case for three days,” I said. “I barely know my own name right now, but I’ve been talking to him and he hasn’t said anything.”
“Right,” she murmured, then handed me her phone. “Well, like I said, it’s just happened.”
I took the device, my eyes immediately dropping to the screen and scanning the article already open on it. The headline was bold and dramatic, seemingly pertaining to a high-profile divorce, but I didn’t recognize the names of the parties involved.
Unfortunately, I didn’t need to because I realized what the fuss was all about almost instantly. While none of the Westwoods were part of this divorce, their name was scattered throughout the text anyhow and my grip tightened on the phone as I kept reading.
The tone of the article was sharp and damning, not really reporting so much as dissecting the strange marriage traditions of these old-money families. It dug into the power dynamics involved, the strategic alliances that weren’t about love so much as money, legacy, and control.
Somehow, it seemed the Westwoods were getting the worst of it. Even Zach’s name was there. Apparently, he’d been tied to the woman at the center of it all, and since she was being raked through the coals, so was he.
“I don’t understand what any of this really means,” Miranda admitted, waving her hand at the screen. “It’s all very dramatic, but I can’t imagine it’s easy for them.”
I swallowed hard, my eyes still on the article, but my heart was already aching for Jesse and his brothers. Miranda might not understand, but I understood it perfectly because I’d seen it before.
Obviously, not in headlines or glossy articles meant for public consumption, but in quiet conversations and the way my mother’s voice still tightened when certain names came up. In our case, she’d been deemed unworthy simply because of the fact that she’d been adopted.
Jesse’s family was going through that right now. By proxy, maybe, but that didn’t make it any less real. This was a terrible look for them, for him, and even for me. Like it or not, I was in it now, too.
I hadn’t even noticed at first, too focused on the bigger picture of the divorce, the implications, and Zach’s name being dragged into something that clearly went far deeper than the article explained, but then Miranda reached for her phone and scrolled.
“Have you seen this part yet?” she asked quietly, stopping when a grainy, slightly angled picture of Jesse and me came into view.
It was one of us just walking down the street one day, his arm casually slung over my shoulders and me leaning into him, smiling as I looked up into his eyes. The picture itself being used in this kind of article would’ve been bad, but the caption was worse.
