CHAPTER1
Johnathan
“One caramel lattewith a shot of expresso!”
The coffee shop bustles with the usual energy of a Monday morning. Baristas behind the counter dash back and forth as customers wait in an impatient clump buried deep in their phones. I lean against the far wall and check my own screen for comfort.
A few years ago, there was no shortage of excitement blowing up my phone. Girls, parties, and endless nights of fun. I can close my eyes and still see Jenny Malt stripping on the dining room table at three in the morning. Now I’m just the guy seven years into a loveless marriage waiting for his coffee.
Oh, how hard the mighty fall.
“Johnathan,” the barista calls.
I raise my hand and walk toward the counter, wading through the crowd. Guess it’s back to the office for another mediocre work week. I wonder what my old man has planned for me today. Probably another meeting. Another sales pitch. I wonder how pissed he’d be if I invited a stripper to liven things up?
A blue-suited guy snatches my cup up before I can finish crossing through the crowd.
“Hey, buddy. Try stealing someone else’s coffee,” I yell.
I grip the man’s shoulder to stop him, but my cup is already pressed to his lips. He eyes me with a mischievous smile, his face quickly distorting into disgust as he sticks out his tongue. “Ew, what is this? Black?”
I refrain from smacking him upside the head and snatch back my coffee with a smirk. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Questioning an old friend on their taste in coffee,” Jax muses, throwing a casual arm over my shoulder.
Jax Baxter. The last person I expected to see today but I’m glad I did.
He stares at me. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You look exhausted.”
“No more than I did in law school.” I shrug.
“Still working for that brute you call a father?”
I nod. “Got three more years before I get to move up.”
“Well, a few minutes with an old friend isn’t gonna break your schedule, is it?”
I’m tempted to check the time. I can already hear my dad yelling at me the moment I walk through the door of his office. Whether I’m on time or not doesn’t really matter. He just likes to yell. I shrug. “It wouldn’t kill me.”
We weave back through the masses to a table by the window. The New York foot traffic zooms by outside, and I settle into the cushion-backed chair with ease. Normally I’d be one of those hurried blobs of gray, eager to get to my destination. Every. Single. Day.
“So where’s your wife been hiding you, man?” he asks. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding.”
Ah, yes. The famous business transaction everyone likes to call my marriage. Three more years and the contract will finally expire. I’ll be a free man. Not that I’d burden Jax with any of this.
“You know how my dad is. Work till you can’t and then work some more.”
Jax stares at me. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“Burn out doesn’t age well,” I chuckle, taking in his fresh expression. “You look well.”
He leans back in his chair, pompous as ever. “Oh, go on.”
“Seriously, man. Whatever you’re doing I need it in bulk.”
“Same thing I’ve always done.” He shrugs and pulls a muffin out of his bag.
“You still do those weekend trips?”