I rolled the chair to my desk and paused, my hands still gripping the seat back. “Do you think a yes to the job automatically means a yes to a relationship?”
“Do you not want to say yes to a relationship?” Ashley’s tone said she didn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want a relationship with Weston King, but she was trying to.
The truth was that I was trying to understand myself too.
I sank into the chair and faced Ashley. “I had fun with him. I really did. But that’s not enough to build a relationship on. I don’t want to get out there and find out that we aren’t compatible and then what if it affects our working together? I’d be alone in a new city with no job, no friends and then what?”
“Sabrina, you need to get out of your head and into your life. Seriously.” She reached across the desk and put her hands over one of mine. “If the relationship doesn’t work out, then fine. You’re both grownups. You can still work together; I know it. If I’m wrong, you’ll find another job. It’s time for you to move on. You’re not happy here right now. You said it yourself just today. And every day for a month before this. I don’t want to lose you, but you’re more important than our friendship, and dammit, this is what you want.”
It was what I wanted. Not just the job, but Weston. A guy who was charming and sexy and not Donovan.
I shifted my hand out from under Ashley’s so that I could squeeze hers. “You’re right.”
She seemed surprised to have won the battle so easily. “About which part?”
“All of it. Except me being more important than our friendship.” I swallowed past the ball that had suddenly lodged in my throat. “You’re right about all the rest.”
“Damn straight I am.” Ashley slammed her hand on the table—a tactic meant to divert me from noticing her eyes brimming with tears, I suspected. “Now pick up that phone, call the guy back and tell him yes before I do it for you.”
As soon as the decision was made, I knew it was right. It settled everywhere in my body, wrapped around me comfortably like the favorite blanket I burrowed in on cold nights. I’d spent too long yearning for the life I’d been meant for—it was time to go out and get it.
And maybe Weston would fit into my future as more than just a boss.
But Donovan…
He lived across the world, but it was his company too. His name would be on invoices and letterhead. He’d be present in my life from here on out in some way or another. There’d be no escaping him now.
Still, I picked up the phone, called the guy, and when Weston answered, I told him, “Yes.”
Chapter 9
“I can’t believe you’re only two and a half hours away!” my sister exclaimed for the millionth time since I’d first told her about my move to New York. Now, three weeks later, I was finally settled in the city that would be my new home.
I shifted my cell phone to my shoulder so I could dig in my purse for my credit card. I was in a cab, quickly approaching my destination, and I wanted to be ready to pay when we arrived. “I have your bedroom all set up and ready whenever you can get away from school to come visit,” I said to Audrey while searching. “Or I could come there. But you don’t have an extra bed.”
“And you’re going to be swamped with the new job. I’ll come visit you. When do you start?”
“Officially, tomorrow, but I’m headed into the office now to meet with Weston so he can show me around. He wanted me to meet a few people beforehand so it wouldn’t be overwhelming on my first day.” Found it! I laid my card on my lap and rubbed over the raised letters of my name as we drove through Midtown. I was anxious and fidgety and had been ever since I’d arrived in New York two days before.
I hadn’t seen Weston yet. I hadn’t even talked to him directly since the offer. It had all been through email, most of which were routed through his assistant, Roxie, who was helping arrange everything. Today was the day I’d know for sure what he expected for our future.
It was almost four—was it too early to drink?
“He’s having you come in at the end of day which means he’s probably planning to take you out afterward.”
“Audrey...” I groaned. “Don’t jump to conclusions.” Of course I’d thought of that already, but her excitement wasn’t helping. I needed her to minimize this—not make it bigger.
“But you have to be prepared,” she went on, unaware of the distress she was causing me. “What are you wearing? Is it day to evening convertible?”
“A plum sheath dress. It’s professional.” It also had a slit that went up to my mid-thigh. “But yes, it would work for evening wear.”
“Eeep! I’m so excited for you!”
“That’s awesome.” I closed my eyes and waited for the most recent wave of nausea to pass. “Because I’m a bundle of freaking nerves. And I can’t figure out where I packed my Xanax, and I put my hair up because I’ve been pulling at it so much I’m sure I’m going to go bald, and now I have nothing to calm myself, and—”
Laughter interrupted my lament. “Oh god, you crack me up.”
“I’m glad you think this is funny.” The cab turned a corner and immediately pulled over to the curb.
“It’s not my fault that you’re crazy,” Audrey said.
“If I’m crazy, you’re crazy,” I said hurriedly. “I’m here. Gotta go.” I hung up without waiting for her to say goodbye, paid the driver, and climbed out. Then there it was—King-Kincaid Town Center.
I craned my neck upward to scan the length of the skyscraper. Sixty floors rose above me, and while many different businesses leased space in the building owned by King-Kincaid Financial (the corporation Weston’s and Donovan’s fathers owned together), the top several floors housed Reach, Inc.
Soon I’d be standing up there, taking my place where I belonged.
I could barely even look that high.
There weren’t many people inside the lobby of the Town Center, probably because of the time of the day. It made it easy to find the security desk where I was required to check in to get to the sixtieth floor. The guard, an African-American woman named Fran, called up to get my clearance.
“Okay, you’re clear,” she said, letting me through to the elevators behind her.
“Was that Weston King?” It was possible I was too eager. But I was a stranger in a foreign land, and Weston was the only person I knew here.
“I don’t know who it was. Some woman with an accent.”
Roxie, I thought. Of course.
Sure enough, it was Roxie, Weston’s assistant from Hungary, who met me when I arrived at the top floor.
“Did your ears pop?” she asked after handing my purse and jacket to the secretary at the front desk. “I keep gum in case you need.”
I’d talked to Roxie enough on the phone to feel comfortable with her already. Her accent wasn’t thick, but occasionally her word choices reflected that English was definitely her second language. “I think I’m okay,” I said, working my jaw back and forth. “But, yeah, I wasn’t expecting that.”