Oh, I went on blind dates. Amelia and Ryker had basically shoved me out their door one night and said, “Have fun!”
I half expected and, let’s be honest, wanted it to be Mark on the other end. Instead, it was a man twice my age who keep leering at my breasts and combing his hair at the table—what hair he had.
He’d ordered lobster, and all I’d done was thought about Max’s tirade about lobster, which of course made me think about Mark, and…
Who was I kidding? I always thought of him.
I hated that man.
Hated that every time I heard a woman whisper about how hot the new VP of Hospitality in California was, like a supermodel… my teeth clenched, and my chest hurt.
The damn man’s face was in every marketing campaign. I would know because I was the one who had to do all of the marketing materials with my team.
I hadn’t seen him in person once, thank God. The LA team took care of all the shoots, but every single time I saw his smiling face as I approved ad proofs, I wondered what our kids would have looked like. Which was dumb.
I wondered how he was doing.
I wanted to pick up my phone, only to realize I never even had his cell number! I didn’t want to go through any corporate channels; that just seemed a bad idea. And when I asked Ryker for it, he outright said “he hates you, not a good idea.”
So yeah, five years later and back to square one.
Well, two could play that game!
I saw pictures of him schmoozing up to women at events in LA, heard the chatter of who he was dating—the last one was a supermodel that used to do the Victoria Secret fashion show, and man did my hate grow to epic proportions, and yet I wanted to say TOLD YOU SO!
I’d been right to accept the job. He’d moved on just like I predicted; now he had a stable career that somehow managed to make him a celebrity.
And I had…
A nice apartment.
A car.
A dog that loved me no matter what.
A goldfish that ignored me.
An empty fridge.
And blind dates while Ryker and Amelia had twins, an adorable house in the suburbs, and a tree.
God, I was jealous of that stupid tree!
I’d even gone as far as to get one of those Japanese garden things you have to comb and tend to.
And then I bought a Chia Pet.
Then another.
Then I realized I was turning into the crazy cat lady only with Chia Pets, which had to be worse since one day I found myself talking to them. In my defense, I was extremely drunk, by myself, see? It’s pretty much worse!
Talking ceased around the meeting.
Good, finally.
I took a long sip of my coffee as Max walked in, rubbing the shoulders of some hotshot, and out my coffee went.
All over the table.
And over Kevin’s white shirt. Oh, he too hated me, but only because I got the promotion and he didn’t.
He wiped at his shirt and glared.
“Uh yes, glad you’re excited, Olivia!” Max said loudly. “Everyone, I’m sure this man doesn’t need an introduction! One of the youngest VP’s in our Santa Monica office and now the newest President of Marketing!”
No.
Nope.
The universe wasn’t that mean.
Was it?
My gaze slid around the room, seeking blinking red lights. Were we on a television show again?
Was I being pranked.
Wait one hot minute.
Oh shit! I nearly spit out another sip of coffee.
That made Mark, the guy I hated, loved, then hated, and slept with on every surface in one of the company apartments we were marketing again and refurbishing.
MY. BOSS!
Noooooooooooooo!
I sat in pissed-off silence as Max waxed on and on and—wait a second. Movement near his chest caught my eye. Did he have a gecko in his pocket?
The hell?
How was Little G even alive still?
I swear that damn gecko smirked at me then hid back in his suit pocket all before Max grinned and pointed at me as people started clapping.
Yup, missed another announcement. I looked around with a watery smile. How was this my life?
“So!” Max rubbed his hands together.
I would not look at Mark. I would not look at Mark; I would not—damn me to Hell that man was fine.
He’d filled out in all the right places.
Broad shoulders.
Big, just everywhere, don’t stare at his crotch, do NOT stare this crotch, wait, was he aroused?
I frowned and kept staring.
Max cleared his throat. “Er, Olivia?”
My head whipped up. “Yes, sir, sorry what was that?”
“Someone get her some more coffee.” He laughed awkwardly.
Everyone joined in.
Officially the worst Monday meeting of my life.
Thanks, Mark!
Mark put a hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’ll explain.”
Yes, please mansplain to me how to do my job. The dick!
“Olivia.” His voice was deeper, his jaw so square I wanted to cut cheese with it. Wait, what? How were his eyes more blue? His smile more magnetic? I’d had my mouth on that and walked in the other direction? Had I been possessed?