Snapshot: Chapter 28

Spencer leads me silently down the hallway toward the elevators. I don’t bother asking her what the home emergency is. I’m more than positive it was just an excuse. The elevator dings, and the door peels open. I step inside, and Spencer darts her gaze to the right, turning the toe-end of her stilettos inward. She’s wearing the most earnest expression I’ve ever seen on another human being.

“So…you know how to find your office from here, right?” she asks, biting her bottom lip.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” I ask, leveling my stare.

“No, ma’am. Not particularly.”

I nod over my shoulder. “I think I’m headed down to the cafeteria. Join me? My treat.”

The doors start to close, and I have to kick out my foot to stop them. Spencer scuttles inside the elevator, and the minute the doors close, she blurts out, “I’m so sorry I called your husband man candy. I had no idea who you were. I would’ve never⁠—”

I burst out in a relieved chuckle. “That’s why you’re acting so nervous? He is man candy. Thanks for noticing.”

Spencer’s eyes bulge. “You’re not mad?”

“Not in the slightest…well, not at you anyway.” I take in a deep breath, my lungs straining. It took every ounce of restraint not to pop off in the boardroom. I wanted to give each of those rich, arrogant bastards a piece of my mind, but I didn’t want to dig a deeper hole and let Dex down. And anyway, he was just as livid for me. “How’d you know to come rescue me?”

Using her top teeth, she pulls on her bottom lip. “The breakroom on the fourth floor. The meeting rooms are soundproof, but there’s a vent, and when it’s open on both sides, you basically get a front-row seat to the action. My friend Cade and I are basically trauma-bonded because we have the worst bosses at the office. We were chatting in the breakroom when he told me who you were. Apparently, his boss Jensen mentioned something. Anyway, they were being so cruel to you over some stupid article. I couldn’t stand you getting attacked like that for another minute. Plus, it sounded like Mr. Hessler was about to punch through a wall.”

“Yeah…I suppose we’ll be finding Cade another boss soon.”

“I heard.” She scoffs. “Good riddance. Jensen is…”

“An asshole?” I finish for her. “Yeah, I’m not the kind of CEO you can’t say ‘asshole’ in front of.”

She laughs. “How about prick? That’s what I was going to say.”

“Fine by me.”

“Do you still want to go to the cafeteria?” Spencer asks, glancing at the number panel inside the nonmoving elevator.

“Yes,” I answer simply. “I just don’t know what floor it’s on.”

“Oh,” she says, laughing before hitting the number one. It lights up a bright red. “First floor. Second floor is the mail room and copy center.” She rolls her wrist. “Also known as my second home.” Spencer points to the number three on the elevator. “Marketing directors and a few meeting rooms. Fourth floor, more meeting and education rooms. Fifth through tenth are cubicles and customer service. Starting at eleven are the executive offices…which is where you are, of course.”

I blink at her. “I’m never going to remember all that.”

She smiles. “I’ll show you around later if you’d like?”

I touch the back of my hands underneath my eyes. “Does it look like I’ve been crying?”

Spencer holds out her hand, pausing just an inch away from my face. “May I?” I nod, and she immediately wipes under my right eye, cleaning up my makeup. “There you go. Good as new.”

“How old are you, Spencer?” I ask as we reach the first floor, the elevator doors pulling back apart. She smooths down her neat dress and then runs her hands over her braid. “Twenty-two…in six months.”

I raise a brow. “That was a weird way to say twenty-one.” I follow her lead as she crosses the main lobby heading toward the back of the building where all the delicious smells are coming from. I lift my nose and sniff twice like a drug dog that caught a whiff of the good stuff. There’s teriyaki somewhere in this building.

“I hate telling people I’m twenty-one. I know the impression that leaves. But I have great grades, I’ve never once been to work late, and I’m not some party girl. I’m engaged, actually.” She wiggles her left hand in the air, but it’s ringless.

“Are you missing something?” I ask.

“Oh, I meant it as a gesture. We’re still picking one out.” Her eyes drop down to her moving feet. “If I’m going to wear it forever, I just want it to be the right one.”

I’m picking up on a weird vibe, so I take my best guess. “There’s nothing shameful about humility. My dad proposed with a cheap ring, and then my parents upgraded when they could afford it. Married for over thirty years, now.” I smile at her.

“Oh, it’s not that. My fiancé actually has a great job. He’s a junior partner at a big law firm.”

“Ah, an older man.”

She shrugs. “A little. We just haven’t had time to really do any of the wedding stuff…or ring shop. He works nonstop.”

I nod. “I’m becoming quite familiar with the notion.”

We stop in front of the bustling cafeteria. I was expecting a little coffee shop and maybe a lunch line similar to my grade school. But this is unbelievable. It looks like the food court at the mall. There are about ten different cuisine options shoved into one corridor. My mouth is watering. All of my tastebuds are awoken…confused as all hell, but awake nonetheless.

“Spencer, I don’t even know where to start. This is like a food festival.”

She laughs. “The French bistro, you have to call ahead with your order, but everything else has short lines. What are you in the mood for?”

“Teriyaki,” I answer.

“Ah, Fuji Mountain,” she says, pointing to the back corner. “You can build your own hibachi. Come on.”

She holds out her elbow like a hook, a giant smile on her face. Well, here it is, folks. My first official friend in Miami. And she’s a chipper, twenty-one-year-old copy-coffee girl who reminds me so much of myself at twenty-one. Outside of the stable job and great grades, that is.

“Spencer, how about a fat raise and a new boss?” I ask, returning her smile. She blinks at me, looking dumbfounded. “Or would you prefer to stick with Casey?”

“Not even a little bit,” she musters out.

“Good. Then from now on, you work directly for me. My executive assistant.” I link my arm in hers. “Please don’t leave my side. Your job is to make sure I don’t do anything else stupid.”

After lunch with Spencer, I told her to go home early for the day. I spent the rest of the afternoon locked in my office, comforting myself with Dottie’s letters. There are so many different stories. Her letters read like a stream of consciousness, like she was narrating her life to Jacob so he could have a piece of her.

Every envelope containing a Polaroid is a treat. A little glimpse into memories almost lost. What would’ve happened if I never found this box? Who else would’ve been curious enough to open it? Would anyone else treasure the memories like I do?

One letter, in particular, eases the ache of my uncomfortable first day at Hessler Group and the obvious disapproval of the leadership team.

Dear Jacob,

If you could’ve seen the stares they were giving me today, I bet you would’ve whisked me right out of this place. Maybe you would’ve thrown a few punches on our way out.

It’s official. I was named the CEO of Hessler Group today, and one thing is abundantly clear: nobody wants me here.

I’m in over my head. My responsibilities are manageable enough. I’ve been carrying the load for Harrison behind the scenes for so long, not much with this business is a surprise. But winning over Harrison’s team is a different story. They didn’t even want to give me the keys to my new office at first.

Maintenance was convinced I showed up at the office to spy on my husband, wanting access to his personal space behind his back. I don’t know how to explain that Harrison’s drinking has officially consumed him. He can barely peel himself out of that armchair of his. His drinking was always excessive, but lately, it’s clear he is incapable of running his own company.

We can’t trust anyone else to take on this responsibility. It took me decades to earn Harrison’s parents’ trust. I suppose naming me as their successor should feel like some sort of accomplishment, but sitting here in this big, grim office, I feel like a shell of myself.

I daydream about the gazebo. Daisies in my hair. The very first time you told me you loved me. And the day you left and told me you were letting us go so Melody could be raised by a man capable of giving her all the things you couldn’t.

In my daydreams, I rewrite the story. You kiss me on the forehead and tell me this rich suitor is my chance at a happily ever after. Instead of agreeing, I plant my feet, grip your arm, and scream until you promise to stay. Maybe we’d never own a home. We’d just be nomads, port to port, as you scramble up odd jobs here and there on the boats. One day, you teach us to swim…

And right now, instead of me being alone in this empty office, we’d be together.

I clutch the letter tightly to my chest. Perhaps I should feel guilty that Dottie’s bad first day brings me comfort. But it’s nice to know I’m not alone. I have no idea what I was expecting in that board meeting. How would I feel if I was in their shoes? Maybe I’d be doubting my own competency as well. But the leadership team is missing the big picture. My only role is loyalty…to Dex. I’ll be stellar at that.

There’s a firm knock on my office door. Based on the tall silhouette visible through the frosted glass door, I know it’s my husband.

“Come in,” I call out.

The door handle jiggles. “It’s locked,” Dex says back.

Oh, right. I uncross my legs and pick myself up from the floor by the coffee table. Once I open the door, Dex’s eyes drop to my bare feet. “Is this office now shoes optional?” He smiles his sweetest, sheepish smile. It almost looks apologetic. But what the hell would Dex have to apologize for?

“Only for my friends,” I reply.

Moving past me, he makes a big deal out of stepping out of his nice business loafers and kicking them to the side. “No shoes it is.” Dex makes a beeline to the cupboard behind the desk. He retrieves a crystal decanter of amber liquid and two matching glasses. Looking over his shoulder, he raises an eyebrow. “No protests? This is brandy.”

“After today, I think I’ll try a stiff drink.”

He sighs heavily as he fills both glasses, one more full than the other. After joining me on the small sofa, he hands me the smaller one. “Take a little swig and let it sit on your tongue for a moment. Once you swallow, immediately exhale.”

I follow his instructions, taking a generous sip. As I breathe out, the bitter burn of the liquid seems to dissipate with my breath. “I’d give you crap about mansplaining how to drink bourbon, but that actually helped.”

Dex undoes the top two buttons of his shirt and drapes his arm over my shoulder. Tucking in my knees, making myself as small as possible, I curl up against his side. “I’ve never had somebody hate me like that for simply existing. That sucked.”

“I’m so sorry. I…what they asked for…” His jaw tenses. “Inexcusable.”

“I mean, it kind of makes sense, though⁠—”

“Lennox,” Dex scolds. “Absolutely not.”

“Just hear me out… What are you going to do? Fire everyone who is uncomfortable with me as the CEO? Hell, Dex. I’m uncomfortable with me as the CEO. What if your team quits on you?”

Dex shrugs. “Let them quit. Or I’ll fire them one by one until I have a team who respects where my priorities lie.”

Glancing up at his hazel eyes, I ask, “Being?”

“Everything else in my life can break and shatter…except us. You’re my priority, Lennox. It’s as simple as that. I’ll get rid of anyone who threatens my happily ever after.”

“Are you thinking with your heart or head?” I ask him, trailing my thumb along his tense jaw. “Because one of us has to be reasonable, and when it comes to you, I’m all heart, Dex.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says. “Forget about today. Let me handle the board. After I made an example out of Jensen, they are all walking around on eggshells. Clearly, they all would like to keep their jobs.”

“Yeah, and it’s fantastic to know that the people who report to me hate me.” I scoff and take another swig of my drink, but this time, I forget to breathe, and the bitter burn catches me in the back of my throat.

“They don’t hate you. They fear you. It’s uncomfortable for them to realize I have loyalty to more than Hessler Group now. They are used to leaders who eat, sleep, and breathe the job. Maybe they don’t like that, all of a sudden, I’d choose my wife over all of it.”

“Really?” I lift my brows. “Because you’ve worked your whole life for this. And you’ve loved me for what, the two weeks we’ve been married?”

My eyes bulge as I realize it’s the first time Dex and I have brought up the “L” word. It’s obvious, but there’s something so sacred about those words. In my mind, there’d be a parade, fireworks, and maybe a bed covered in rose petals the first time he said it.

Dex hooks his finger under my chin and guides my gaze to his. He presses his lips against mine softly, barely a touch. “Lennox, it’s been so much longer than two weeks. I think I missed you before I even knew you. If I hadn’t met you, I’m convinced I would’ve ended up alone. You have no idea the hold you have on me. I needed us to start as friends, otherwise, I would’ve called your power over me straight-up sorcery.”

For a moment, I take it in silently. The words I wanted to hear for so long. It almost feels like a dream and I’m so emotional I could cry. In fact, if I tell Dex I feel the same, I might. Instead, I turn my cheek, nuzzling into his hand, and decide to cut the tension with my signature sarcasm.

“Eh, for all you know I cast a spell on you.” I wink at him.

“Good. Keep it. I want to stay in love with you forever.” When he kisses me again, this time he lingers, his warm, full lips grazing mine as he whispers, “I really do love you. I think I finally understand what that means now.”

This is better than a parade. It’s honest, raw intimacy. No dramatic fireworks necessary. “Dex, I love⁠—”

He presses his finger against my lips, stopping me midsentence. “Save it,” he says. “I know how you feel. But save it, because I have a feeling one day soon, I’m going to really need to hear ‘I love you’ from you for the first time. Hold on to it for that moment, okay?”

I nod. “Okay. I will. Can we go home now? I need to leave this awful day behind me.”

“Sure. I can cancel the rest of my day.”

It’s five o’clock in the evening what “rest of his day?” My husband works similarly to the way my dad used to—endlessly…relentlessly.

When he rises, Dex notices the open box of letters on the ground. “Doing some light reading?”

I wouldn’t call anything about Dottie’s letters light. I cry after every other one I read. I’d call it more along the lines of heart-wrenchingly tragic, laced with scandal. “Your grandma wrote letters to her friends,” I say, deciding to ease him in. “Seemed like writing was her outlet.” I look around the office. “This place wasn’t always so easy for her. Do you want to read them with me?”

Dex sighs. “Does she write about my mom?”

“Sometimes. All wonderful things,” I admit. Actually, I want Dex to piece this puzzle together for me. I still don’t quite understand. I know Dex is Jacob’s grandson, not Harrison’s. But, does Dex know that? Did Harrison? The problem is I can’t ask outright without feeling like I’m betraying Dottie. If Dex were to read these and find out himself…

“Maybe it can just be something between you and Grandma, then. When it comes to my mom, it’s just easier not to reopen that wound.”

I nod. “Okay, I understand. But if you ever change your mind. They’ll be right here in this office…”

Standing, he holds his hand out to me. “Thank you.” Then, he pulls me to my feet. “Are you hungry? Want to grab a bite?”

I grimace. “Yes. But I’m in a takeout kind of mood. No fancy, five-course billionaire meals or anything.”

He laughs. “How about we go do some regular people stuff? There’s a big hardware store up the way next to one of my favorite little hole-in-the-wall places to get real Cubanos. The chef doesn’t speak more than twenty words of English. Completely authentic.”

“Mmm,” I moan. “That sounds delicious. But why’d you mention the hardware store?”

Dex smiles. “Let’s go pick out a washer and dryer. What do you say?”

I flash him a wide smile and scrunch my nose. “I’d say that sounds like a perfect date night to me.”