Page 25 of My Ex's Best Friend

"We'll be taking on some of the largest and most prestigious collections in France." The hint of pride in his voice is unmistakable.

"Really? What kind of collections are we talking about?"

"We'll be working on pieces by Monet, Degas, Rodin – you name it." His tone carries the weight of the artistic legacy we're about to step into.

I can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the thought of delving into the works of these masters. The names alone are enough to make any art enthusiast drool, and I'm no exception. The prospect of handling such prestigious collections is like a dream come true for any art lover, and it’s a miracle I don’t squeal out loud. Inside, though, I’ve bit into the side of my cheek to hold it in.

I nod, not meeting his gaze. He has no idea how much this job means to me. I can already see myself walking around in Paris or Cannes, discovering artists. I can do more here than I could have ever thought of doing at the museum.

My eyes scan the folder’s contents as he continues, listing major historical artists and detailing the scale of the projects. These are names I’ve only read about in history books. I worked at an underfunded museum where our only claim to fame was a painting by Picasso’s third cousin.

But fate is cruel. I get to have my dream job, but it is side by side with the person I’ve had to bring myself to hate.

I was so hurt after what happened. Not by what Chris had done, but by Jake keeping secrets from me. Sure, I was scarred when I saw Chris in bed with those two women, cheating on me. Having lied to me. But for some reason, it was Jake’s betrayal that hurt the most.

I wonder if things would be different had I found out before we slept together. Would that have been better? Would I have forgiven him if we hadn’t shared a vulnerable moment with each other?

"And that's just the beginning," Jake adds, a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes.

I look at him through my lashes.

He turns his face toward me, and I quickly look away, busying myself with the folder again.

"These are projects I've been working on for years. We're talking about some of the most renowned collections in the art world."

“Everything sounds good,” I say finally.

“Just ‘good’?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen your resume and the statement you wrote for the job,” he says. “It’s exactly what you love.”

“It is.” I nod, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice because that is an understatement.

This is everything I could have dreamed of and more. In fact, even if it were Chris instead of Jake, I would have also jumped at the opportunity. Actually, scratch that. That might have been a little bit of a stretch.

I would rather jump off a cliff than go anywhere near Chris ever again. Just the thought of him fills me with ick. I shudder internally.

What he did to be might not have hurt as much as disgusted me, but it was enough that I do not want him in my life ever again.

“You okay?” Jake asks.

“I’m just getting used to it all.” I nod. “I mean, the museum was my first job straight out of college and my dream job. In fact, I didn’t see myself working in corporate.”

“And now?”

“I can see myself working here.” I shrug.

“So, are you excited to work together?” It’s just a simple question but so full of vulnerability.

As we navigate the maze of desks, Jake finally stops in front of a workstation. "Here's your desk." He gestures toward the sleek setup. "Make yourself at home."

"Thanks." I take in the organized chaos that defines the workspace. It's clear that creativity thrives in this environment.

I take a seat, and he leans against a nearby desk, folding his arms.

"We have a trip to France scheduled next week. This is why your hiring process was so fast, you’re going to need to break the ground running."

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