Page 113 of First Comes Forever

“I wasn’t thinking that.” I clear my throat, giving myself away. After slipping into the nearest room, I shut the door behind me.

“Sure, you weren’t.”

“Okay, I was. But you’re allowed to date, Adam. We said we wanted to focus on our own things for a while, right?”

“Are you dating?”

I chuckle. “No, I’m cooking.”

He returns a laugh. “Really? For who?”

I smile against the phone. “For me, I guess.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. Keep doing things for you.”

“I’m attempting my first Mississippi Mud Roast in a few days. I’m sure it won’t hold a candle to your mom’s, but it’s worth a try.”

I suck in my lips, debating if I should say what’s actually on my mind.

“Well, why don’t you hop on a flight and you can come over for dinner?” I ask.

“Amani, I want to see you…but not if I can’t…” He’s having trouble finishing his sentence. “I just have a lot of work right now. Maybe sometime soon, though.” It’s a weak excuse, but it’s enough for me to understand where his heart is.

“Okay.”

The door handle turns, and Addie’s fiancé, Joel, barrels in, looking as surprised to see me as I am to see him. He pulls off his glasses and rubs his eyes.

“Adam, I have to go,” I say before hanging up and sliding my phone into my back jean pocket.

“Sorry,” Joel says, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your call, but I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.” I raise one eyebrow and he clarifies by pointing to a desk behind me I didn’t notice before. “This is my home office.”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t realize. I was just looking for a quiet place to take a call. Sorry,” I mumble, trying to shuffle by him.

“Oh hey, wait.” He holds up both of his hands, trying to stop me. “While you’re here, may I run something by you?” He gestures to a couch in the corner of the room. I take a seat, wiggling my ass to make a comfortable indent in the stiff leather seat cushion. I hope he’s not trying to pick my brain about wedding plans. He came to the wrong best friend. If he’s concerned about the bridal shower or bachelorette party, Quinn or Noa are more inclined for event coordination.

“What’s up, Joel?” I ask as he sits down next to me.

“You used to be a pretty big influencer, right?”

I lean backward onto the couch. “Used to, but not anymore.”

“One of my businesses needs some support, and I think you might be a good fit. Adler mentioned you were between jobs.”

“I’m dabbling in web design,” I say, cringing. And by dabbling, I mostly mean tinkering around in Adobe Photoshop for a couple of hours a day. I’m not even close to getting a business in motion. Honestly, I need to start job hunting, but I don’t like where this conversation is going. “Joel, I’m not interested in going back to the influencer space. I can’t help you with partnerships there. My big accounts are gone anyway, and I have no intentions of building new ones. It took a terrible toll on me, and I can’t go back to that kind of work.”

He smiles. “Music to my ears. See, I have a company called Rychess Media. It’s mostly app development, but their focus is ethical design. Most social media apps are built to be addictive. They take a different approach. We finally got enough traction to fund a nonprofit division that the CEO, Roland, really wants to run with.”

Now my interest is piqued. “What kind of nonprofit?”

“A mentorship program for adolescents struggling with social media addiction and depression. The statistics for that age are scary right now. Attempted suicide rates and crime rates have skyrocketed. Roland has teenage daughters and feels personally compelled to help in any way he can. He has this vision for implementing mentorship and counseling programs in middle school, high schools, and even colleges.”

I nod firmly. “Joel, that’s really cool. I think it’s a great idea.”

“On paper,” he grumbles. “But Roland is in his late forties. And I’m not on social media. We do not know how to build a mentorship program that catches the attention of kids. We brought in a few consultants, but the last influencer we talked to pitched us a concept called,Fit in with Filters.”

“Catchy name,” I scoff.

“Wildly counterproductive to what we’re trying to do.”

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