It was a quarter to 6PM on a Tuesday, which meant she was due at work in thirty minutes. But I’d just gotten home from a long day of concepting Fifth Avenue window displays at the one job I did have left, and she had been waiting all day to share with me “a juicy theory” and a “foolproof plan to get in contact with Iain tonight.”
And since I very much needed the latter, I humored her questions.
“He found out about the bed from A.J,” I said, referring to my brother’s assistant—or as they called her at Engelman, “The Adam Whisperer.”
She was the levelheaded yin to Adam’s bull-headed yang, but beyond that, she was the older sister I never had. When Adam’s third assistant quit my senior year of high school, A.J arrived gloriously into my life, the fiery-yet-calming miracle girl who managed to withstand
my brother’s abuse, fire back at his temper, rein in his crazy and subdue him enough for him to actually remember my existence on an almost daily basis, along with things like my birthday, my graduation and, well, my feelings.
She was easily one of my favorite people in the world, which was why I didn’t fault her for sharing my Stone Pine wish list with Iain.
“I mean she definitely wouldn’t have told him if she knew he was planning on getting me fired,” I grumbled, looking back at not just the Sunday night text I’d sent A.J to ask if Iain had contacted her recently, but the texts I’d received a good twelve hours later.
A.J: Sorry just saw this! He did reach out. When did you talk to him about Stone Pine?? So sweet of him to think of you! How’s work? How’s everything??
AJ: So sorry it didn’t work out this week. But we’ll visit you soon! How are you???
It was obvious from the next-day reply and the way she typed that she was absolutely swamped. Excessive question marks were a telltale sign of an overwhelmed A.J, and while I knew she genuinely wanted to know how I was doing, I also knew that telling the truth would only add to her stress. There was no doubt that she’d be outraged about Iain getting me fired and then take it to Adam, who would probably just shrug it off and tell me to take the damned bed, and then they’d get into a fight about me—which they already did often—and I just didn’t want to spread my misery.
So I told her work was great and left it at that.
“Got it. Mm-hm.” Mia nodded, reading and rereading the texts on my phone, and assessing them with a gravity that I found amusing. “So, here’s the thing,” she finally said, setting her mug down and for some reasoning tightening her ponytail, like that meant she meant business. “You, Holland, keep acting like Iain Thorn got you fired for selfish reasons then fucked off like a total prick,” she started, taking a pause for dramatic effect. “But the truth is that he spent like… a lot of time thinking about you. He took time out of his busy hotshot day to talk to your brother’s assistant about girly beds and embroidered pillowcases because of you. He asked for your address, left specific instructions for the delivery guys to take the old mattress with them, ‘cause trust me, they don’t do that on their own, and then had everything shipped same-day because of you. You realize what that means right?”
I didn’t even look at her as I changed the channel on the TV.
“It means he’s a very rich, busy man who likes things done fast, but please go ahead and tell me about how you think he’s in love with me.”
Mia kicked me lightly with a fuzzy-socked foot. “I actually wasn’t going to say that, smart ass. I don’t think he’s in love with you right now, but I do think he wants to see you naked in his bed. Or his office. Or wherever is private enough for him to do very bad things to you.”
My cheeks flushed despite the genuinely dubious look I shot her. “Mia,” I said, to which she laughed.
“What? I’m serious. That man is harboring an almost-debilitating need to fuck the shit out of you, and he’s so afraid of caving to it that he can’t even risk being in the same room as you again. There is literally nothing else that explains him pulling the asshole moves he did, and you know I’m right,” she said, tipping her nose up. “You just won’t admit it because you’re afraid of ‘wasting your time’ on another ‘pointless crush.’”
“Yes,” I said bluntly, deciding not to tell Mia about just how much time I’d wasted on Iain Thorn—in particular, the five weeks crying myself to sleep after he disappeared from my life. Because while he’d seen me as a lonely kid he mercifully hung out with here and there, I’d quietly regarded him as my world. It was absolutely pitiful, and a version of me I had no intention of going back to. “You are absolutely right about that, and that is exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“But, come on. It isn’t a pointless crush when you’re a woman now,” Mia argued. “And when there are glaring signs that he is extremely attracted to you.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said, frowning hard at the TV while chewing the hell out of my lip. “Besides, he has a girlfriend,” I blurted. “A serious one. And even when he and Adam were like, crazy people who broke the law and got into bar fights every weekend, he still talked about cheaters like they were the scum of the earth. Plus, I’d never be the other woman, so can we skip the juicy theory part and go straight to the foolproof plan to get in contact with him?” I pleaded. “Because I am not sleeping on that bed tonight.”
“Agreed. You’re sleeping on Iain Thorn tonight because we’re going to see him in a few hours at The Atrium,” Mia said with a placid smile, tossing my phone back to me and popping up off the couch.
Dumbstruck, I blinked at her, watching her disappear into her room before taking my phone and cocking my head at the screen, because on it was a new text from A.J.
Replying to a message from a minute ago.
That I had most definitely never sent.
“Mia!” I hissed, my wild eyes scanning the texts.
ME: I saw online that there’s a party at The Atrium after the All-Star game tonight? Is there a list to get in and are you and my brother on it?
A.J: Yes and yes. So sad we have to miss it! Why do you ask??
Mia didn’t reply after that, but I didn’t need any explanation. My mouth was already hanging wide open, and my eyes were unblinking as I looked up from my screen to see my roommate waltzing back out into the living room—suddenly wearing a big, broad grin and a little black dress.
She burst out laughing at whatever stunned look I had on my face, and took both my hands to pull me up off the couch.
“Just for the record, your name is Adam tonight,” she crowed, holding my hand up in the air and giving me a twirl. “And my name is A.J. And in case you haven’t caught on, we’re about to have the best fucking night of your life.”