Chapter 1

It was pouring rain when she drove into the office parking lot on her first day. It was one of those humid summer rainstorms, the kind that make everything smell like steam and tar. She'd been waiting for it from the moment she'd stepped outside her parents' house at seven thirty that morning, her new Nine West flats already giving her blisters. Now, an hour later, she sat in her car and wondered if the rain was a premonition--if it meant bad things at this new job.

Her new office was inside an 11-story corporate building on Lenox Road, not far off Peachtree Street. She gazed up at it: it looked like one of those fat cube-shaped LEGOs her brother had always favored, except for its dull gray color. Bad morning weather, shoes that cut her feet, boring-looking workplace: her professional life felt mundane already.

The inside of the building was pristine. Clinical. The kind of space where things echoed far too loudly. She could hear the clacking of heels even though no one else was there yet. That's the kind of building it was.

In the elevator, on the way up to the 11th floor, she flattened her hair and squared her shoulders. She was a professional now and she refused to be ruffled by uncomfortable shoes or ill-timed summer weather. After all, had she not just graduated from law school, top of her class from the University of Tennessee? Had she not just passed the bar exam? Had she not just landed a position here at Cyntera, one of the fastest growing technology companies in Atlanta?

She had damn well done all those things. She had worked her ass off and proven herself over the last few years, and now, today, she was launching a promising career. She had arrived.

She had arrived too early. Her anxiety for the first day had spurred her out of bed an hour earlier than she had planned on waking up. Now she had to stand here outside this locked office, like a little kid waiting for mommy to open the door, squeezing rainwater out of her hair and rubbing her fingers under her eyes to smooth away mascara runs.

Her heart lurched when she heard the elevator ding. A middle-aged guy stepped off and slumped toward the office, drawing a ring of keys from the pocket of his slacks. He glanced at her, but then his eyes moved lazily to the office door.

"Hi," she said, adopting her falsely confident voice. "I'm Sutton. I'm a new associate in the legal department."

The guy turned the key in the door without looking at her. After a beat, he said, "You working with Wyatt?" His voice was flat, disinterested.

"Er--does Wyatt work in legal?"

The man took another long beat to answer. "He does."

"Then I'm sure I'll meet him."

The man finally looked at her, his expression as flat as his tone. Another beat passed before he spoke. "You should keep an umbrella in your car," he said. Then he pushed the door open and strode inside without inviting her in. After a moment of hesitation, she followed him.

She was actually relieved when her boss showed up. Marta was the only person she already knew--or kind of knew, since she went to church with her parents. She had an easygoing manner and big gums that stretched when she smiled. Sutton was catching a glimpse of them right now.

"So you met On-Delay?" Marta asked, settling her work tote and thermos and Chick-fil-A bag on her desk while Sutton stood in front of her, trying hard not to look too eager.

"Pardon?"

"You met Craig? The short guy? Doesn't speak much? Always the first one here?"

"Oh--yeah. He was--er--nice. What did you say his last name is?"

Marta gave a short bark of a laugh. "On-Delay's not his last name. That's just what we call him. Because every time he speaks, there's a delay. Get it?"

"Oh," Sutton laughed. "Yeah, that's funny. Ironic, too, since he was actually early."

"There you go," Marta said, pointing at her in approval. "He's our early On-Delay."

Sutton gave another fake laugh. "He sounds like a character."

"Well, we have a lot of characters here." Marta sounded proud when she said it. Her gums were big and shiny and Sutton had to look away from them. "Anyway, how about a guided tour to your desk?"

Her desk was tiny. It was also shoved in a windowless corner, perpendicular to a bigger desk that actually had a window. An old desktop PC sat on top of it, looking for all the world like it would never turn on. Sutton swore it was practically taunting her.

"I don't do the whole computer thing," Marta said, plopping onto Sutton's desk and gesturing at the PC. "I'm still a believer in long-hand. But Javier promises me on his ferret's life that Big Booty here should work no problem."

"Pardon?" Sutton asked again.

"Yeah, I don't know," Marta said, throwing a hand up. "All the younger people call this old machine 'Big Booty.' Probably a spin off Black Beauty, I would think."

"Yeah..." Sutton said, drawing her tongue against her teeth. "Probably."

"Ask Javier if you have any problems with it. He's our tech guy." Marta leaned forward conspiratorially. "You'll be able to spot him no problem," she whispered. "He's very techy. Makes jokes none of us understand. Wears a lot of statement t-shirts. Drinks three Red Bulls a day. That kind of thing."

"Oh," Sutton nodded. "Yes."

"I'll leave you to get settled, then," Marta said. "We'll have our staff meeting at 9:30."

"Great."

"Bathroom's down the hall if you need it. Try to work around Holly-Ann, if you can manage it. She eats Activia for breakfast."

"Oh--sure. Thank you."

Marta winked. "Good luck, Sutton."

Sutton was lost in a flurry of introductions after that. She met the tech support guy, Javier, who took a long drag from his Red Bull as he shook her hand. She met the lone college intern, a lanky Georgia Tech kid who insisted she call him "Mikey P." She met the sales team, who huddled together in the center of the office, complaining about their hangovers. Sutton raised her hand and gave them a sweeping "Hi," which all of them returned disinterestedly, except for a young woman around Sutton's age with shiny, black hair and wedge heels that buttressed her to just over five feet tall when she stood up. "I'm Debbie," the woman said, granting Sutton a big smile. She tapped her hand against Sutton's forearm and said, "You should sit with me during lunch. I'll tell you everything you need to know about Cyntera. I've got it down to a bulleted list in my head."

Sutton grinned uncomfortably. "No wonder you're in sales," she managed.

Debbie barked out a laugh, as if what Sutton had said was genuinely funny.

And finally, Sutton met the only other member of the legal department, a stocky guy named Wyatt who had graduated from Georgia State Law two years ago. He was waiting in the legal nook when she returned from her dizzying tour of the office. He sat at the desk next to hers--the one with a window view--and nodded at her as she approached.

"You want to quit yet?" he asked.

She put on her fake smile. "I'll give it a few more hours."

"Well, welcome to the legal team," he said, patting his hands on his thighs. "I'll give you a rundown of the ins and outs after our Monday meeting, but first things first: do not hang up Tennessee paraphernalia around here. I hate that shade of orange. And that team. Really I just hate the whole goddamn school."

She waited it out, studied his expression. She couldn't tell whether he was kidding or not.

Finally, his mouth slipped into a smile. "I was just being a dick to see what you'd do."

She fake laughed. He nodded his head like he could tell she was faking it.

"Ah, well," he said, patting his thighs again. "I've never worked with anyone else in legal before. It's always been me on my own. I'm not sure how to interact with you."

She shrugged. "That rundown of the ins and outs sounds like a good place to start."

"I was kidding about the Tennessee thing. Feel free to bring in your diploma or a pennant or anything. You ever heard of Rhodes College?"

"Sure. I've been to Memphis once or twice."

"I went to Rhodes for undergrad. We're supposed to hate Tennessee on principle. Supposed to support U of Memphis and all that."

"Ah."

"But I always thought that was a sack of shit. Anyway, have a seat. I'll show you how to log in to your e-mail."

At 9:37, Marta called them all together for the weekly staff meeting. Sutton grabbed her yellow legal pad, two pens, and her calendar notebook. Everyone else grabbed their coffee.

"Happy morning, team!" Marta chirped from the front of the conference room. "Let's do Two Highs and a Low before we start, huh? Who wants to share a High?"

There was coughing and shuffling. Finally, a woman with dyed blonde hair raised her hand. "My son's baseball team won their game on Saturday."

"Great, great! A winner just like his mom. Thank you, Holly-Ann! Great, everybody, right? Okay, who else?"

There was more coughing and shuffling. Someone bit into an apple; the sound grated Sutton's ears.

"I discovered the final digit of Pi last night," someone said.

Marta paused before responding. "Great. Great. Thank you, Javier."

"I was kidding," Javier snorted. "Pi is infinite."

"Okay, thank you. And--who has a low for today? Anyone have a low they're hoping to turn around today?"

"I got a flat this morning," Wyatt, who was sitting next to Sutton, said. "Unfortunately, I think the only thing that'll turn is a brand new tire."

"Always the snark from you, Wyatt," Marta said, flashing him a cheesy smile. "But I hope that flat won't prevent you from making the best of today."

Wyatt laughed and drummed his fingers on his knees.

"Well. On to announcements. You'll all notice--"

Marta's voice was cut off by the slamming of the front office door, followed by the quick pounding of high heels on industrial carpet.

"Ah, that'll be Ada with the Kilpatrick NDA," Marta said.

Sutton's mind twitched. In her 25 years, she had only ever known one person named Ada--but surely this was a different Ada--surely the universe wouldn't fuck with her like this, not on her first day of work at this new grown-up job--

The pounding of heels grew louder, and the person wearing those heels turned the corner and entered the conference room, and Sutton's heart stopped.

But the long, lean girl who had just rushed into the conference room didn't notice her. She wound her way toward Marta, handed her a folder of papers, and then shimmied into an empty chair, tucking her wet umbrella onto the carpet and reaching upwards to smooth the flyaway frizz sprouting off her otherwise-perfect hair.

"Thank you, Ada," Marta said, her voice impossibly chipper. "I was just saying, as you walked in, that we have a new team member here today. Everyone, could you please join me in welcoming Sutton to the family?"

There was a polite round of clapping. Marta and Debbie gave Sutton genuine smiles. Wyatt dipped his head toward her. Javier clapped once before swigging back his Red Bull. On-Delay stood still with his hands in his pockets.

But Sutton was looking only at Ada, whose hand had stilled and dropped slowly from her hair. They locked eyes for a blistering second before Sutton forced herself to look at everyone else, if only to distract herself from the frantic beating of her heart.

Ada Cosgrove worked at Cyntera. And Sutton had had no idea.

Her morning was a blur after that. She went through the motions of asking questions and nodding her head, but her mind was choppy and distracted, and her heart was beating wildly like she'd just finished a sprint. Her chest felt flushed beneath her button-down shirt.

How had she not known that Ada worked here? How had her parents forgotten to mention it when they were helping her network for this job?

"Are your eyes always twitchy?" Javier asked as he installed anti-virus software on her computer. He asked the question baldly, like he hadn't just met her.

"No," Sutton said, feeling impatient with herself. "I...didn't sleep much last night."

"Nervous about the first day?" Wyatt asked from his desk.

"Something like that."

"Are you an insomniac?" Javier asked. "My roommate's an insomniac. He eats three things of tapioca pudding before bed each night. It's the only thing that helps him. You should try it."

"I don't have insomnia."

"You might have it without realizing it."

"I think I would realize it."

"Okay, whatever, I just thought it would be cool if you and my roommate had the same condition."

Sutton was quiet for a long beat. Then she voiced the question burning in her throat. "Hey...you know Ada? The girl who came in late? When did she start working here?"

"Couple months ago, I guess." Javier paused, used some keyboard shortcuts to click through the anti-virus software. "She's kind of a bitch," he said matter-of-factly.

Wyatt snorted.

"She is?" Sutton asked.

"She's pushing hard to be Marta's new lackey," Wyatt said, his eyes on his computer screen. "Doesn't ever say much to the rest of us, just works her ass off to outshine us."

"It's fucking annoying," Javier said. "Sometimes I like to troll her by making up assignments from Marta. Last week I told her Marta wanted us to paint a unicorn on her office door. I figured she'd run off to Home Depot right then and there."

"Did she?" Sutton asked, already knowing the answer.

Javier snorted at the computer screen. "No. She just glared at me. Like, death-glared." He paused again. "And she told me I could have come up with something better than a unicorn. "

Sutton considered this. "Well, no offense," she said, "but you could have."

It was around three p.m. when Sutton looked up from her computer because she felt the presence of another person. Wyatt had walked off toward the sales nook, probably to talk business, or maybe to shoot the shit. She didn't know. She was busy figuring out this new job, and she didn't need any distractions.

But then she felt that presence--

"Hey," came a voice.

Sutton didn't have to turn around to place that voice, but she shifted back from her desk and turned her chair around anyway.

Ada leaned against the wall of the legal nook, her arms crossed over her chest.

Sutton spoke before she could overthink it. "Hi."

Ada shifted her eyes from Sutton to the corner to Sutton again. "How've you been?"

Sutton considered her answer. "You mean since this morning?" She waited a beat. "Or for the last seven years?"

Ada stared her down. "It's a general question. Why didn't you tell me you'd be working here?"

"I didn't know you worked here."

"You could have checked Facebook."

"I don't regularly stalk you on Facebook."

Ada cleared her throat and looked to the corner again. "I work in sales. I probably won't even see you much around the office. But I wanted to at least acknowledge you."

"Well...consider me acknowledged."

Ada blinked once. "See you around."

She turned and walked off with the air of someone having completed a chore. Sutton stared after her, feeling at once angry and empty.

"Y'all know each other?" Wyatt said, strolling back into the legal nook, pointing his pen after Ada's retreating back.

"We...went to high school together."

"Ah. Gotcha. Small world. Always awkward when you end up working with one of the people you used to pass in the hallway every day."

Sutton's eyes glazed over. After a moment, she said, "Yeah."

Her mom was in the kitchen when Sutton got home. Sutton dropped her workbag on the floor, wishing she could discard her tiredness with it. She was drained from her first day of work, from sitting in Atlanta rush-hour traffic, from running smack into her ex-best friend and--

"How did it go?" her mom said, looking up from the bottle of raspberry vinaigrette she was pouring on a salad.

Sutton took her time in answering. She surveyed the sink, the stove, the island counter where her mom was standing--the same island where she and Ada used to sit and eat Eggo waffles on Saturday mornings.

"Sutton?" her mom prompted.

"Why didn't you tell me Ada works at Cyntera?"

"Ada who?"

"Ada Cosgrove? Seriously?"

Her mom paused with a single salad tong in her hand. She looked right at Sutton, her eyes narrowing. "Ada's working at Cyntera?"

"Yes!" Sutton half-screeched. "Are you telling me you didn't know? Do you have any clue how uncomfortable it was when we saw each other today?"

Her mom dropped a hand to her hip. "No, Sutton, I do not have any clue. Do you have any clue how to show your dear mother some appreciation for hooking you up with a good job?"

"I have to quit now."

Her mom scoffed as she tossed spinach leaves. "Yes, honey, that's very smart. Quit the great job you managed to secure in this tough economic climate, when all these fellow law graduates of yours are still out there knocking on doors and praying for leads, all because you're spooked by having to work with your old friend."

"She's not just my 'old friend,' and you know that. I've told you."

"She wasn't your girlfriend, Sutton."

"I was in love with her, Mom."

Her mom stilled with her arms perched at awkward angles above the salad bowl, the wooden tongs still in her hands. She inhaled a long breath, and when she let it out, she looked at Sutton again. "What are we fighting about here? Is this about your job, or is this more of your latent anger that I never intuited your sexuality?"

"What? No, this isn't--no, Mom, I'm over that."

"I'm trying, Sutton."

"I know."

"I've been trying for two years now. Dad, too."

"I know. You've been great."

"Come here. Taste this salad. I mixed the vinaigrette differently."

Sutton dragged herself to the island, plopped herself down on one of the old wooden stools she and Ada had always sat side-by-side on.

"It's delicious," she said, chewing a spinach leaf.

"I figured it would be. Look, honey, you just have to shake off this Ada thing. It's been years since you two last spoke."

"Exactly."

"My point is you're different people now. New versions of yourselves. She wants to go about her job, and you want to do the same. It shouldn't be all that difficult to work at the same office."

"I know," Sutton whined, laying her head down on her arm. "I just don't want to."

"That's the thing about adulthood," her mom said, dragging the tongs through the salad one last time. "You have to do things you don't want to."