“Nobody did ask you,” she said. “And besides, we aren’t talking about Paul right now, we are talking aboutyou, remember? We are talking about how moving back home to help your dad’s protegee get back on his feet at SDC is a big deal and it’s probably bringing up a lot of complicated emotions and—”
“Beccs,” I interrupted. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but really, I’m alright. I’m just tired, and jetlagged, and I recently spent 8 hours trapped on a plane, listening to a stranger tell me his life story—which, in case you were wondering, was not nearly as interesting as he thought it was—so I think I just need a nap.”
Becca nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I get it. But you know, if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you right?”
“I know that. Thanks.”
Becca grew quiet after that, and we drove the rest of the way to her building in silence. I pulled my tweed coat a little tighter across my chest and watched the early morning go-getters stepping out onto the street to call for a cab or scurry along the sidewalks in their stylish fall attire.
Boston was once my home, and these were once my people, but I’d changed so much over the years that a part of me no longer felt quite like I fit in here. Becca was right about one thing, it has been difficult, wrapping my head around the permanence of this move. I left Boston for a reason, and despite what my little brother might have to say about it, it wasn’t because I was trying to run away. I was going towards a new life, with new people and new opportunities. That’s what I found in London, and I was happy there.
At least, I think I was.
But then, just two weeks ago, my dad called me, and I could tell from the way his voice sounded on the phone that he was overwhelmed. He needed my help with the business, and since my dad was not a man who liked asking for help, I knew I had to hear him out.
He retired from being CEO of Stevens’ Development Company four or five years ago, but he still maintained his seat on the board and was very involved in the everyday happenings of the place. It was his baby, after all. His first child. Long before Calvin or I were born, my dad was renting the first lease on a dingy office space in a bad neighborhood, trying to get his business off the ground.
I knew he cared about SDC almost as much as he cared about his family, and that’s why when he asked for my help, I couldn’t say no. I had two degrees in business marketing, two-and-a-half years of experience, and an unshakable career confidence. He needed me, and I’ll admit, it felt good to be needed.
Of course, it wasn’t until after I hung up the phone, having just agreed to hop on the next flight I could find, that it hit me who thenewCEO of SDC was. The man I would be working for, and my dad’s protegee who he worried was no longer up to the task of running the company—Jonah Hollis.
Also known as the man I’d been in love with for all four years of high school, andat leastthe first two years of college.
I hadn’t seen him since I was a teenager, and I doubted he would even remember me. I was always just the quiet, moody kid my dad would bring to work sometimes, and Jonah was so busy and eager to please back then, he barely paid me any mind. He was allwork, work, work, so as he ran around the office like a chicken with his head cut off, I would watch from the sidelines and imagine what it would be like if I were older, prettier, and if Jonah finally noticed me.
Now, however, I was older, prettier, and if I got into the office the following morning and decided I still wanted him, then I would do what I learned how to in London.
I wouldmakehim notice me.
* * *
Becca’s apartment was a two-bedroom, which she used to share with a roommate and old friend from college, but lucky for me, Wendy moved out a month ago. Becca had been struggling to find a replacement roommate, and she was very relieved when I called to say I needed a place to stay.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” she said, showing me around the apartment. The living room was just big enough to house a comfy looking maroon couch, coffee table, and TV stand with no TV on it. “Oh yeah.” She pointed to the empty spot on top of the stand. “Wendy owned the TV. I keep meaning to buy a new one, but I’m just so busy these days with work. When I get home from the salon, all I want to do is lay in bed and be on my phone until I pass out.”
I laughed. “I’m sure I won’t have much time for TV either, but assuming I get my first paycheck in a couple of weeks, maybe you and I can go shopping.”
“Yeah, speaking of furniture shopping.”
“What is it?” I asked.
She winced with guilt and told me to follow her down the hallway. I thought about hauling my bags with me, but my arms were tired from bringing them up the three flights of stairs—the elevator in her building was busted—so I left them behind to retrieve later.
At the end of the hall, Becca opened the door on the right and stepped aside so I could go in. The room was nice; it had a big window and the hardwood floors were free of any crumbs or dust. But there was justoneproblem with it.
“Becca,” I said, gawking. “It’s empty.”
“I know.”
I turned to look at her. “What happened to all the furniture I bought?”
“It came,” she said. “It’s all piled up in the closet if you want to take a look. It’s just, the guys who dropped it off said that you didn’t pay for installment or whatever. Basically, they refused to build it. I tried looking at the instructions myself, but I’m telling you Kat, they might as well be written in French.”
I walked to the closet and opened the door to find four oversized boxes stacked on top of each other. My bed frame, my bedside table, my desk, and my chair. “I thought for sure I hit the button that said they would build it.” I reached out and tried to lift the smaller box off the top, but even that was stupidly heavy. I gave up after about three seconds and huffed. “Well, that’s just great. I was planning on buying a mattress today, but I don’t even have a place to put it!”
“You can put it on the floor,” Becca said.
I laughed. “Yeah, like I’m a frat boy? Or a stoner kid living in his mom’s basement?”