Warm brown eyes appear at the corner, looking straight at me. I exhale loudly, my body sagging as I reach for my best friend Jasmine, who steps forward, a magnificent magenta dress fitting over her perfect frame.
She holds me briefly, letting go quickly, her small smile shaky as she stares. She takes a step back.
“You’re home early,” she states, her mocha irises roaming from my figure to the floor. She clasps her hands.
“I know,” I reply, sighing. “I took an early lunch.” I point towards the bags. “Christmas shopping.” I plaster a smile that’s sure to break. “See for yourself.”
Kneeling next to the gigantic bags, Jazz peeks inside, her eyes going wide as she ruffles through its overly cute contents. She pulls the pacifier out first, waving it in the air, and I watch her swallow slowly, her gaze clouding, her silky voice trembling as she stands. She wrings her small delicate hands.
“You’re pregnant.”
It’s a statement, not a question. I answer with a shake of my head, my neck threatening to break.
I exhale loudly, the breath blowing hard out of my cheeks. I can barely say the words. “No… I’m not, Jazz. Just wishful thinking. Guess Santa missed my house this year again, huh?”
My throat squeezes and I reach for her again, needing a body to cushion the blow, needing my closest friend’s comfort to push the very real nightmare away.
I feel her stiffen.
My best friend’s body turns to cement, and with a hug much colder than my own doctor’s, I pull out of her hold, my head tilting as I examine her expressionless face.
The shout flying from further inside the condo air cuts off my next words.
“Jazz!” I hear from beyond the kitchen. “Get your sexy ass back in here! Daddy’s got something big and hard for you.”
The air goes still immediately after. Several seconds pass before reality registers, and I drop the pink clutch in my hand, my feet hurtling towards the back bedroom before my brain can catch up.
Jazz grabs for me, missing me as I sprint without a second thought farther into the confines of my over-priced condo. I halt when I find my bedroom door open. I crack it farther, my eyes landing on the broad body standing against the farthest wall.
In nothing but boxer briefs.
The world goes eerily quiet as my nerves hum. I stare at the handsome man, my gaze grazing his pale skin from head to toe, and my pulse leaps into my throat, thrumming hard, my fingers sweating as the truth takes hold and nearly chokes me. My heart stops.
He turns to face me, a smile printed on his full lips. The grin slides from his mouth as his stare at last meets mine, and I watch as recognition hits him like a pile of bricks, shock sucking the life out of his bright blue irises. He opens his mouth to speak.
But I don’t hear a damn thing. Couldn’t if I tried.
There’s a roar rumbling in my ears. An actual thunder. Every word, every noise, every other sound is blocked, barred and closed off—overshadowed by the sound of my own heart breaking in two.
Chapter One
Violet
PRESENT
I have never been more fucked in my life.
A thousand footsteps beat a rhythm across my skin, the faint smell of window cleaner and coffee shifting for position under my nose. The tile beneath my shoes is slippery, and I stumble—in heels, no less—from the confines of a single-file line, the chrome metal detector overhead letting me through without as much as a whine.
My heart is humming. My fingers are tightened into a fist around the handle of my overstuffed bag.
The watch on my left wrist reads 7:01. The time on my ticket reads 7:10. And with a tug to my bloated luggage and briefcase, I barrel past the bright blue shirts of airplane security, the edges of my red-bottoms clicking furiously across the floor.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. There has to be a faster way to my gate.
But the signs along the ceiling all read “No.”
I can’t believe this…
I’ve never missed a flight before. And somehow in the most important twenty-four hours of my life, everything seemed to go wrong. Traffic was thicker than oatmeal. My second carry-on broke, forcing me to shove everything into the first. And the security line…
It’s like they put every rambunctious toddler in front of me on purpose, just to see how much pressure I could handle. I wanted to cry, rage and scream like I’d seen the two-year old in baggage check do.
But I was a twenty-eight year old woman. In the span of half a mile of white tile and busy travelers, I’d aged eighty more years, and each additional footstep towards my gate is another hurdle that my already tired body can’t handle.
I’m no longer walking at this point; I’m practically running.
The wheels on my luggage squeak, barely able to keep up. I’ve clutched my purse so tightly to my side that it’s left an imprint.
Gates flash overhead in a rush of letters and numbers.
D27…26…25.
D06 seems so far away, and as my hand starts to hurt from the exertion, my legs and lungs burning from the run, I rush up to the gate. Just as it begins to close.
I know I look as horrible as I feel.
The airport attendant shoots me a look of shock, and with little fanfare, lets me through to the bridge of the plane. With as much dignity as I can muster, I throw my head back, pulling my shoulders straight.
I slip quietly into my first class seat, surprised to find the one beside it empty. Raking shaky fingers through my mussed red hair, I try desperately to fix the mess that is me. I’m still smoothing my hair back into a barrette when I feel a light caress along the line of my navy trench coat-covered shoulder.
I jump as a low voice rumbles overhead.
“Ma’am…” The flight attendant gazes down at me, her blonde brow furrowed. “Is everything alright?”
I don’t know how to answer that question. So, I don’t.
The plane takes off without affording us a minute to breathe, and I exhale as soon as we’re in the air. Takeoff is smooth, our ascent effortless. So unlike my never-calming nerves which jump even now, even as we fly thirty thousand feet towards the city I love and hate most.
A city that’s become so much a part of me. A city I haven’t seen in two entire weeks.
I glance at my watch again, willing time to slow down. I left whatever calm I had left back on that Chicagoan tarmac. I know it. Barely out of a Midwestern winter storm, my day turns as gray as my early morning, each passing mile adding a sheet of shadow to the blue slate that was the sky.
There’s no turning back now, no way to stop the two-hour flight. I try desperately to settle into my first class seat but the message in my coat is burning a hole in my pocket. Sneaking my cell phone from the heavy wool, I read the first few emails, none as daunting as the first two that pop up on the screen.
I open the first:
Violet,
Thank you for keeping me abreast of your schedule. We are so happy to bring you in to your new role at King & Sparrow. As you know, we have a lot of work ahead of us, and I am confident you will fit neatly in to your new role as Junior Partner.
With sincerest regards,
Anna Paleto
I read the last line of her short message:
Human Resources Business Support.