chapter twelve

 

“Was that Kendra?”

I glance up to find Mark standing in my doorway. I nod.

“What did she want?”

I shrug. “I have no idea.”

“How did she even know you’re here?”

“I ran into her a few weeks ago. The night you told me to get out and make my own life. I tried to do just that and ran into my devil of an ex.”

A light dawns in his eyes. “Ah. That explains it.”

“What?”

“The moping around. The generally unpleasant disposition.” He shrugs. “It got a little worse. I figured it was just the FDB thing.”

“It’s not the FDB thing or the Kendra thing. It’s the Vivian thing, if I’m being honest.” I focus my gaze out the window.

“Have you tried calling her yet?” he asks softly.

“No. It’s been five months now since I last saw her.”

He shrugs. “So? You’re still obviously hung up on her. Maybe she’s been waiting all this time for you to call.”

“Doubt it. She ran back to her husband, remember? I can’t go backwards, not after the truth she hid from me.”

“Have you even tried to look at it from her perspective?” he asks.

I suppose I haven’t. I’ve done the Brian for months even after I said I wasn’t going to. I’ve played the victim in the whole thing, but she did try to fight our attraction. She told me over and over again how she couldn’t be with me, and I kept pushing and pushing until she caved.

She could’ve been honest from the start, but I guess we both could’ve played things differently.

“No,” I admit. “I haven’t. But the phone works both ways, Mark. She could’ve called me just as easily as I could’ve called her.”

“Maybe,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “Or maybe she was just trying to give you what you wanted.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

He stands. “Is it?” he asks. He opens the door to leave with a quiet parting shot. “Or is it still eating away at you every second of every day?”

His words resonate in my head, but I push them away. I have to.

A calendar appointment comes through a little while later from Jami. Both Mark and I are copied on it, and the appointment is set for today.

3:15 PM: Formal introduction to Brian’s temp replacement. Location: Mark’s office.

I glance at the clock. That gives me an hour to figure out what the hell I’m going to tell my temporary replacement and how the hell I’m going to train him. It’s one thing to know this shit off the top of my head; it’s something completely different to try to explain the knowledge I’ve acquired from a decade of experience to someone else.

I guess it’s sort of exactly what Keith’s doing for me. I won’t really know how to manage a band until I’m in the trenches just doing it, and the same goes for my temp. That’s why, I guess, today’s the day where the training begins. As we ramp up closer to the tour, anyway, I’ll need more of my time freed up for those responsibilities.

Mark ultimately decided it would be better for me to focus on tour duties rather than splitting my time with Ashmark analytics. I’ll still oversee the work my temp is conducting and he’ll be emailing me daily reports and asking questions as needed, but the bulk of the work will be on someone else’s shoulders. It’s sort of a relief to know I’ll only be working the one job while we’re on the road. I’ve heard Mark’s stories about road life. Sometimes it’s action-packed, sometimes it’s boring. Sometimes it’s lonely and sometimes it isn’t.

He asked if I wanted to be included in the interview process, but I said no. It’s his company and his decision, and I didn’t honestly have time to sit around in interviews.

I start a list of the most important tasks. It seems like the best way to train someone new, but I think if he just shadows me for the next month and follows my every move, he’ll be fine. I just hope he’s not a douchey asshole if we’re going to be working in tight quarters for the next month.

By the time I’ve made my list, I’m cutting it close to being late to the formal introduction. I dart over to Mark’s office, and when I step into the doorway, I spot a woman sitting in the chair facing Mark’s desk. From the back, the fluttering brown hair is reminiscent of Vivian, and even after all this time, my heart squeezes and an ache settles into my chest cavity.

It can’t be her. My brother wouldn’t do that to me.

She turns around and our eyes meet for the first time in five months. Her eyes widen in shock that I’m standing in Mark’s doorway.

My brother wouldn’t do this to me...but he did.

Are you still married? It’s my first thought when our eyes meet after all this time, and the shock seems to transition to something else. Regret, maybe, or it could just be that I’m seeing what I want to see.

She turns slowly back toward my brother. She stands as she crosses her arms over her chest. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t.” Her pained voice brings back every good and bad memory I have of her, from the day she walked in on me fucking Tess over my desk to the day I kicked her out of my house after we finally had sex.

I have to admit, it takes balls to tell him no. No one ever does, and he always gets what he wants.

“Vivian, you’re the only person I could think of to take on this task. Brian will be accompanying me on tour, and I need someone I trust in place while he’s gone. I know you usually work with budgets and you fix companies, but you’ve got experience with the sorts of systems Brian has put into place after working with FDB. You’re a perfect fit.”

You’re a perfect fit. I suddenly wonder if he means she’s a fit for the job or a fit for me.

The job. He must mean the job.

“Be that as it may, it’s a conflict of interest,” she says.

“In what way?” Mark challenges.

She sits back down with a heavy sigh. “You know in what way.”

He clears his throat. “Because you left mid-contract? I forgive you. I need you here.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not why and you know it.”

“Let me remind you that you owe me two months of work, Ms. Davenport. You signed a contract, and I’m cashing in.” My brother means business, and I stand in the doorway silently, not sure how to react, not sure if I should even breathe or if I’ll somehow wake up and she’ll be gone again. I don’t even know if I want that—if I want her here or if I want her gone. Never in my life have I ever felt such conflicting feelings over a single person.

She presses her lips together, clearly pissed that he has her backed into a corner. “I have two requests.”

“Name them,” he says.

“Advance pay and a daily driver.”

I’m surprised she doesn’t ask for a chaperone to be in the room with us at all times, to be honest.

“No on the advance pay. You’ve already proven you’re a flight risk. I can get payroll to prorate and pay you weekly after your first week, but that’s the best I can do. I’ll get in touch with my driver to see if he knows of anyone available on short notice, but I can’t make a guarantee.”

She sighs, and Mark glances over at me and waves me in. I reluctantly take the seat next to Viv. She doesn’t move a centimeter, doesn’t acknowledge I’ve sat down beside her, yet I feel the tension radiating between us.

As I sit, her scent assaults my senses. I think of the sweater I hung in my closet at Mark’s. Every morning as I’m getting dressed, I walk by that sweater. I’ve stopped sniffing it as her light rose scent is long gone now, but I still think of her every morning as I pass by it.

Half of me wants to gag as I choke on the fresh scent, and the other half of me wants to inhale it so deeply into my nose that it’s the only thing I can smell for the rest of my life. I can’t help but look over at her, studying and memorizing every part of her. Her lips are drawn into a grimace, and the look like she just sucked a particularly sour lemon stretches across her mouth. Her eyes have little lines around them, lines I never noticed before. She’s exactly the same, but something is off. Something’s different.

I guess the same can be said for myself.

“You’re both professionals, and you both have a vested interest in Ashmark’s success. Brian will take the lead on training you, Vivian, for the next two weeks, and then I’ll expect Brian’s focus to transition more to tour duties. If either of you has a problem with this arrangement, I suggest you deal with it.” He stands. “I have a meeting to get to. I’m going to leave you two to get to it.”

Vivian’s mouth opens like she’s going to say something in protest, but he’s out the door before she can get a word in.

I clear my throat as my heart starts racing. I have no idea how I’m going to do this for the next couple weeks. I’m still not even sure how to feel about this latest twist of fate.

“How have you been?” I ask quietly.

She continues to stare straight ahead. “Fine.”

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” I ask softly. “After everything that happened between us?” I feel like I’m throwing her a bone. She just has to pick it up and run with it. She just has to tell me she’s sorry she kept such a gigantic secret from me, she’s sorry she lied. She’s sorry she didn’t call me to tell me she’s divorced...if she is. Maybe she can’t stand to be around me because she’s still married.

But even if she isn’t, I still don’t know if I can move past the lie. I want to be able to, but just seeing her sparks the rage and the fight in me even as all the softer emotions roll through me. I can’t keep doing this. I have to figure out a way to block all these conflicting feelings because I don’t have a choice in the matter.

I could quit. I could stomp off and sulk and wait for my brother to swoop in and save me. But that’s what the old Brian would do, and it seems more important than ever I prove I’m not that guy anymore. I’m on the right track—sending Kendra out of my office today proved that much.

She doesn’t say anything else. Are you married?

I don’t have the balls to ask. If she says yes, I’ll be crushed.

If she says no...

I’m not sure what that’ll mean.

So, just like the first time we did this, I realize how important it is to push away any personal connections. I won’t ask questions I’m not ready to hear the answers to, and it’s with that in mind I pretend like she’s nobody. She’s just the temp hire taking over my tasks while I’m out of the office for six weeks.

“I made a list of the top tasks I tackle each day in order of importance,” I say, setting the paper on the desk in front of her. “We can start there.”

She picks it up and reads it over as she purses her lips.

I stand and head toward the door. “Follow me,” I say, and we go back to my office. I have a split screen monitor set up, but she’ll still have to sit uncomfortably close to me to see what I’m doing. It wouldn’t matter if I was just training some temp, but because it’s her, because that rose scent keeps wafting to my nose and slamming me back five months into the past, it does matter.

I pull a chair over behind my desk and motion for her to sit in it. I start by explaining what it is I do. I pull up my report from yesterday since today’s hasn’t run yet. “Ultimately what this position boils down to is analyzing web traffic. There are a number of data points I study, but I tend to focus on how those data points work toward Ashmark’s objectives, particularly when and where we see sell-through and how people are using the site. I meet with the IT team each morning to discuss my findings and what they can do to maximize the traffic we get. I meet with the marketing department each afternoon to discuss any impending changes or tweaks, and we also discuss a daily plan of action for search engine optimization and what to do with the data I’ve mined.”

“I’m not an IT person.” She stares ahead at the report. She’s only made eye contact with me once since I first spotted her sitting in my brother’s office, and it was only when she didn’t know it would be me standing there.

“Neither am I. I’m a businessman, but I know how to read reports and make recommendations.”

“This seems out of my league.”

I heave out a sigh. “We’re stuck with each other, Viv. Let’s just make the best of it and stop making excuses.”

She finally looks at me, and then she fucking explodes. “It’s VIVIAN! My name is Vivian!” She lowers her voice and hisses at me. “Stop calling me Viv.”

I stare at her with my jaw dropped down. “Okay.” I hold up both hands. “I’m sorry. Vivian.”

She clenches her jaw and returns her gaze to my monitors. “Let’s just get on with this.”

I don’t move a muscle. She had her little explosion, and I’m afraid it might be my turn next. “No.”

“No?”

I shake my head. “No. Stop acting like you are the victim here. Stop acting like you’re mad at me.”

“Then you stop acting like nothing happened!”

“Oh, something happened,” I say. I slam a fist down on my desk, and she jumps, startled. “You fucking lied to me for a month and then you had the nerve to tell me the truth in the afterglow. You made me an accomplice to your lies.”

“Hey,” she says sharply, pointing a finger at me. “I never lied to you. I told you I couldn’t get involved with you. I told you it was complicated.”

“But it didn’t stop you when you got a few glasses of wine in you, did it?” I realize my words are mean and reminiscent of the old Brian, but I can’t stop them.

She lifts her hand and slaps me across the face—hard—and I welcome the sting. It’s better than the numbness and indifference I’ve felt since the day she walked out of my house.

I man up for a few beats as I allow the sting to settle, and then I hold a hand over the spot of the offense.

I look over at her in shock that she actually just slapped me, and it’s the first time I’ve gotten a good, up close look at her.

She’s as beautiful as ever, but the bright light in her eyes is a little dimmer. The slight puffiness beneath her eyes that appears to be well covered with make-up tells me she’s still not sleeping well, and after all the time that has passed, I can’t help but wonder why. I want to ask, but pride stands in my way. She just slapped me across the face, after all.

She covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God. I’m sorry.”

I return my gaze to the computer screen and clear my throat. I don’t know what to say. Maybe I had it coming, and maybe she had the words I just spouted at her coming, but none of it changes anything. We still have a history, and we still need to work together for the next couple weeks.

I nod toward the screen so I’m not looking at her. “Let’s just focus on why you’re here, okay?”

She clears her throat. “I think we have to.” Her words are a door closing on what could have been, and my heart cracks right down the middle.

I go into business mode. It’s my only hope for survival.

“This column shows the total number of unique visitors we had to the site yesterday. If you click here, it breaks it down by time and location.” I explain the report and what to do to create it each day. I act like nothing just happened even though she specifically told me to stop acting like nothing happened.

I don’t have a choice.

Whatever was between us is in the past. It never should have happened, and the only way to protect myself is to pretend it didn’t.