Better Than Home: Better Than Good Novella

“Speaking of the Dodgers, I heard your firm is expanding to LA,” Curt said, resting his foot on the metal bench as he unscrewed his water bottle.

I frowned so hard my sunglasses slid down my nose. “Huh? No. Hughes relocated there, but I haven’t heard anything about an expansion. And I think I’d know something before you. Who told you that?”

“Judge Middleton,” Curt replied. “He plays golf with one of the old guys…Lawler?”

“Lawton,” I corrected.

“I heard that rumor too,” Rhys interjected, pulling a towel from his bag. “Isn’t Lawton retiring soon?”

I nodded. “Allegedly. I mean…it wouldn’t be the worst idea to expand, but I haven’t heard anyone in my office mention it.”

“Hmm.”

An awkward quiet settled over us. I was grateful Jack broke it, pumping his fist as he sauntered toward us with the basketball tucked under his left arm.

“I’m sorry. Did the old guy school your asses today or what? C’mon, give it up.” Jack dropped the ball and held his hands up for high fives.

Rhys and Jason, his teammates today, complied while the rest of us booed them. A new round of shit-talking commenced, effectively ending the speculation about my firm’s westward expansion.

And of course, that was all it was…conjecture and speculation. It didn’t mean anything.

Hey, I wouldn’t have an objection even if it came to pass. What I didn’t like was the idea that something big might be happening behind the scenes without my knowledge. Partners were supposed to know this stuff, right?

Then again, maybe it was just a rumor.

Rumors weren’t really my thing. I was a facts man. That didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in finding out if there was a glimmer of truth in the LA office concept. I was. I just forgot about it within my first ten minutes at the office Monday morning. Who could blame me? The second I completed a round of edits on a defense spending contract, a brand new one marked URGENT landed on my desk. I was buried in work and would be for another few weeks. And when I finally got home, I had other things to worry about.

Like Aaron giving his notice.

I was home before him that night, which wasn’t normal. I was always later than Aaron. But he’d mentioned that he was going to talk to his boss today, so I hadn’t thought much of it when he hadn’t picked up his cell or answered my text message right away. I didn’t want to add to his stress, and I desperately needed to decompress, myself.

I changed into sweats, then fiddled around on my guitar with the Nationals game on in the background while I waited for him to come home.

I should have known he’d make an entrance.

Halfway through a wonky chord and the seventh-inning stretch, the front door crashed open and Aaron barreled inside. He dropped his designer man-bag in the foyer and cascaded in a heap on the hardwood floor in the open space between the living area and kitchen. I couldn’t decide if he looked like a well-dressed snow angel or a murder victim.

I propped my guitar against the coffee table and hopped over the sofa. “You okay, babe?”

Aaron sat up slowly, bracing himself on his elbows. “I did it.”

“And?”

“I was marvelous.”

I grinned. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. I was mature, calm, and exceedingly gracious if I do say so myself. I didn’t call out Marsha’s short-sighted business vision or chide her for losing her most fabulous employee. And I didn’t shed a single tear. Not one. You would have been so proud of me, Matty,” he remarked, collapsing again with his arms spread wide.

I picked up his left hand, kissing his wedding band. “I’m always proud of you. Open your eyes. Let me see you.”

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No, I’m not ready to be seen. I’m a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

“I can see that.” I chuckled. “What did she say?”

Aaron bolted upright so fast he knocked me on my ass. “She offered me more money.”

“What? Really? What did you say?”

“ ‘No, thank you.’ ” He gave a sly smile. “To which she said, ‘Aaron, darling, sit tight. I have a new opportunity you’ll be interested in hearing about.’ ”

“A different job in the company?”

Aaron sat cross-legged and ran his fingers along the seam of my sweats. “No. She’s in on the ground floor of a brand new publication.”

“Marsha’s starting a new magazine?”

“Brand-new, Matty. And all online. It’s going to be a home and fashion periodical aimed at a young professional audience. I’m not sure what to think. She advised me to take the summer off and promised to contact me in September with the details and a contract to be her—wait for it…Chief Fashion Editor. All caps.”

“Holy shit. That sounds…interesting.”

“I know. I’m in shock. She’s never been more effusive or nice to me in…well, ever. And get this, she went into a detailed explanation about the firm’s money issues, which apparently was why the New York office failed. I figured that was the case. The writing was on the wall. Magazines are passé.” He hopped to his feet gracefully and brushed his hands on his tailored checked trousers. “Are you hungry? I was going to make tacos, but I forgot to defrost the chicken this morning. Want takeout?”