What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

Nevertheless, I’m dismissed, which is fine. I’ve gotten what I wanted and said what I had to say. I stand and walk toward the door, half expecting him to stop me, but he doesn’t. I leave the office but I don’t leave Tyler behind. I’m still thinking about him, and Allison, when I climb into my car and drive away from Hawk Legal, at least for tonight.

I think about the reasons I need to know about Allison so badly and I decide I feel a connection to her. She had a dream job at Hawk Legal and yet, she walked away. We are connected in that way, and if she doesn’t come back to her established life, I wonder if I will either. And I’m not sure if that is good or bad. And I can’t help but feel that I really am part of a story, and I’m the only one who doesn’t know where the next page leads.

Everyone except maybe Allison.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I drive to the address on the card, to the house I’ll be staying in for the next few months, to the house where Allison lived. It’s in the heart of the Belle Meade neighborhood, an area that’s a cool mix of old money and new money, but there’s also a section of more affordable, moderate homes, but I’m eager to get a clear picture. I assume I’ll be in the more moderate area, of course, but turns out, I’ve assumed wrong. The address leads me to the old money area, and soon, I’m sitting in front of a home that could be on a dream board to motivate me to keep working. It’s aglow in outdoor lighting, white with two steeped rooftops divided by a stairwell to the door. The grounds are immaculate and expansive. This house is more than a perk of the job. It’s a luxury bonus. It’s not a normal offer.

And Allison left it behind. That feels decisive. It doesn’t feel like she’s coming back.

I think of Tyler’s reaction to my questions about her and decide that this house, and his evasiveness, scream of a personal relationship. Then again, he offered me the house as well. I’m not sure why I pushed him the way I did. It’s none of my business why Allison did what she did or why he is using me to fill in for her rather than replacing her.

I draw a breath and admit what I wish was not true.

Nothing about what happened in that office, nothing about me pushing Tyler for his motivations, was about Tyler. I’ve known men who have agendas that were not what they seem. The truth is that Tyler reminds me of those men. That’s why I pushed him like I did tonight, inappropriately so, I fear. He hired me too easily. He offered me this house too easily.

He does have an agenda and it’s not what it seems.

But then I do as well, and it’s not really what it seems, either. It’s not about my mother, not completely, not if I’m honest with myself. It’s about what happened back in New York.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

You can tell someone not to judge a book by its cover, but they do it anyway.

It’s true of humans as well. People judge us first with their eyes, then with their minds. I have no doubt that if I really do resemble Allison, people look at me and see her. Oddly, some part of me is okay with that idea, which tells me that I’m still living through an identity crisis that started some time back. Truly, I could blame that fact on my father—or my ex, Brandon—and people who knew my stories, would agree.

Or I could be brave and claim that fame myself.

I mostly choose the latter.

Eager to separate myself from a past that obviously still haunts me and stand out on my own, I arrive to work the next day quite early and do so in my favorite black Chanel skirt. The same skirt I’d worn to the party, but this time with a matching black blouse, with a red belt for a pop of color. With a piping hot thermal mug filled with Oh Fudge! coffee from my favorite brand, Bones Coffee, I waste no time getting to work. I’m deep into an inventory list, right up until the moment I hear, “Good morning, boss lady,” about a half-hour later.

I glance up to find Katie standing in the doorway, looking adorable in a pink dress and holding two cups of coffee. “I brought the coffee date to you,” she informs me.

“Morning to you, too,” I say. “And aren’t you the best? Coffee is the way to my heart.”

She crosses the room and sets a cup in front of me. “It’s a skinny cinnamon churro latte with whipped cream. One of my favorites.”