Page 60 of Rainstorm

I push open the glass door and enter with a false air of bravado that I’m really not feeling.

I greet the woman behind the counter, who must be about the same age as my mother and has a nice friendly smile. She apologizes as she informs me that Mr. Nichols is running late, so I’ll have to wait.

Fucking perfect. My nerves falter and for a second I consider getting the hell out of here. But no, now that I’m here, I have to get on with it.

“Hi there. I’m Oliver,” a male voice greets me as I take a seat on the couch in the waiting area.

I mumble my name in reply, not paying much attention to the man sitting there, although I do wonder if perhaps he’s some kind of a hustler trying to get money from an ex as I take in his Hawaiian shirt, tight khaki pants and loafers.

“I’m afraid the man is rarely on time,” the guy informs me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I frown, not wanting to get into a conversation since I have no clue who he is and no interest in finding out.

“But don’t worry,” he continues the one-sided conversation. “Sawyer is the best, so whatever your problem, he’s the man to solve it for you.”

Really? How I wish that Sawyer could produce a magic wand to solve all my problems.

To put the pieces of my heart together again.

To heal my wounds.

But that’s not possible.

“Is it really that bad?” he asks, seeing my downcast expression.

“Yup. It really is that bad,” I say, dully repeating his words, hoping to discourage further conversation.

“Hey, haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” he says, focusing his attention on me.

Here we go. Even though it’s been over five years since I was the weather girl on the morning show, this still happens occasionally.

“Look, I’m having a bad day. I came to see Mr. Nichols about getting a divorce so I’m really not in the mood to chat, and would really appreciate it if you would just give me a little space, okay? Perhaps I should just ask the receptionist what time her boss is likely to reappear and come back then.”

“No need to bother Jessica, she’s already told me he won’t be back until around twelve. He’s been delayed by a client who won’t stop complaining about her ex-husband.” He pauses before continuing. “Want to go get some coffee and a bite to eat while we wait? There’s a nice place just around the corner, the bagels there are really good.”

I look over at the receptionist for confirmation, as she shrugs and confirms we have time before her boss gets back. I could really use a coffee and it has to be better than sitting here with my thoughts. Before I can second guess my decision, I accept his offer.

On our way to the coffee shop, I notice that Oliver is tall, although not as tall as Chase. He’s also very fit and has black hair, and dark eyes. He’s handsome enough, but not my type, especially as he never seems to stop talking.

In the coffee shop, he orders an espresso while I order a coffee with soy milk but omitting the sugar, a somewhat pointless gesture considering the calorific breakfast Ariel gave me earlier, but hey, every little bit helps, right?

“I remember now where I know you from!” Oliver suddenly exclaims, and I resign myself to talk about TV stuff. But he surprises me.

“You’re Ariel’s friend! You were with her at the bar the other night, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was, but I didn’t get a chance to meet all her friends, so I’m afraid I don’t recall you being there.”

“So, beautiful Roselynn, where do you work?” he asks.

I sigh before replying, choosing my words carefully.

“Nowhere actually, but I’ll have to start looking for a job soon since I can’t live on fresh air forever.”

Oliver questions me about my qualifications and what work experience I have. I actually studied business in college and it was only by a crazy twist of fate that I ended up as the weather girl on TV. Then of course Chase proposed to me, and I followed him to San Diego, dreaming of growing old together surrounded by our kids and a bunch of grandchildren. Head in the clouds, stupid kind of dreams.

“Well, I have a small modeling and PR agency. Would you be interested in working for me?” Oliver asks.

Me? A model? At my age?

This man is totally nuts, he has lost his mind… unless there’s another agenda…

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