Page 17 of Promise Me Forever

“Mr. Ice rather than Mr. Fire?”

“Exactly. He had to work, and he made it very clear that it was time for me to leave, and he kind of, well, shut down. It was weird.”

Kimmy shakes her head. “Babe, I think maybe you’re overthinking this. You had sex. It was a one-time thing. It was time to leave. This isn’t a love story—it’s a lust story.”

She’s right, I know. I shouldn’t waste any more time thinking about him.

“I know. I enjoyed it, and it was new for me, but I don’t think I’ll do it again. Maybe I’m just too soft. Maybe I’ll always want more. But hey, I’ve got it out of my system and now I need to concentrate on my real life. On my new job and my mom.”

Kimmy’s expression becomes instantly sympathetic. She’s known my mom since she was a kid and had endless dinners, sleepovers, and burned-waffle breakfasts at our place. My mom was always a terrible cook, but she made up for it with enthusiasm. “How is Edith?”

“Not great, truthfully. She suddenly seems old, you know? And the good meds cost a fortune, hence the need to concentrate on the new job.”

My mom is only in her mid-sixties, and she was diagnosed with COPD years ago. She never smoked a day in her life, but thanks to the time she spent working in a plastics factory when I was younger, her lungs look like those of someone with a three-pack-a-day unfiltered-cigarette habit.

Her health has declined a lot recently, and moving back here after my split from Chad was a no-brainer. I need to be close by so I can help her as much as possible—or at least as much as she’ll let me. She hates having her daughter be her caretaker and insisted that I get my own place so she wouldn’t drag me down—her words, not mine. I would be happy to live with her, but it’s probably for the best that I have my own space. It allows me tohide how angry I get at the world for doing this to her. It just isn’t fair.

“You know I can always lend a hand with that. The meds, the cashflow. I may be a shallow-ass freak when it comes to romance, but friends are different, and you and Edith mean the world to me. Please don’t struggle when you don’t need to.”

Kimmy’s own childhood was chaotic, and our home was a refuge for her. I might never have known my dad, but my mom more than made up for it. She was always so cool, so kind, so completely there for me. She gave Kimmy a safe haven, and my friend has never forgotten. These days, she’s living her best boss life and has no shortage of financial resources. “I do know that, and thanks, Kimmy. If things get really bad, I’ll let you know, I promise. For the time being, though, she wants to stay as independent as possible.”

“Hmmm.” Kimmy cocks an eyebrow at me. “Sounds familiar—you’re exactly the same. Now, tell me more about your new job, then. Not as exciting as a man with a magic tongue, but I’ll take what I can get. It’s with a law firm, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. James and James.”

“Wow. Not justalaw firm,thelaw firm! They’re massive, and very well respected. It sounds like a great opportunity for you.”

“It really does, doesn’t it? I’m so excited, but I’m a little nervous too.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about, babe. You’re a clever, well-educated woman with the most incredible organizational skills in the known universe. They’re lucky to have you.”

I’m not sure I’d go that far, but thinking about my new job feels a whole lot safer than thinking about the sex god who rocked my world on its axis last night. And again this morning. My future beckons, and I need to banish all thoughts of men I’m never going to see again.

Chapter

Eight

AMELIA

Abead of sweat dribbles down my spine, making me shiver even in the climate-controlled reception area of James and James. I have no idea why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I haven’t had a job before. In the past year alone, I’ve had five, in fact. Only none of them felt as important as this one.

This one is real and permanent, and it comes with so many benefits it makes my head spin. Including, most importantly, health insurance for nominated next of kin—in my case, my mom. I’m sure the work will be hard and the hours will be long, but the staff here is treated fairly and well. That’s a marked difference from my office temping gigs.

That, of course, is what’s making me nervous. This matters. I can’t afford to mess this up. I tell myself I’ll be fine. That it’ll be like riding a bike. Except maybe that’s not a great comparison, because the last time I rode a bike, I did a spectacular face-plant into a flower bed.

Amelia Ryder, get a damn grip. You are a Harvard-educated business graduate, and you will not be face-planting anywhere.

The pep talk isn’t entirely successful, and as I look around the beautifully decorated reception area, I can’t help feeling like the gawky new kid on my first day of school. I bet there’ll bemean girls and jocks and teachers who make me feel stupid. Still, I navigated high school, and I’ll navigate this place as well. It’s big and it’s fancy, but at the end of the day, this is nothing I’m not capable of. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have gotten the job otherwise. I should trust their judgment even if I don’t trust my own.

People pass me as I sit and wait, some giving me a cursory glance and others too absorbed in their own workday to pay any attention to me. It’s like a corporate fashion show—men in well-tailored suits and polished brogues, elegant women in pencil skirts, colorful blouses, and terrifyingly tall heels. They all look so stylish, so busy and confident, like they absolutely belong in this plush space.

I glance down at my own attire, which I felt good about when I left home. I opted for a simple black wrap dress and classic black pumps. Perhaps it’s too plain. Too casual. Am I dressing for success or dressing for a funeral? I run my hands absentmindedly over the fabric. It’s too late to worry about it now.

“Miss Ryder?” A familiar voice interrupts my musings, and I glance up to see Nathan James towering over me. My new boss. The one people warned me was an asshole but who comes off as anything but. Tough, yes, and possibly a little scary if you’re on the wrong side of him, but an asshole? Not as far as I saw. I quickly close down that train of thought. It reminds me of discussing it with my one-night stand, and I don’t have the brain space to think about him right now.

I stand, ready for him to show me my desk and eager to get started. The sooner I can dive into some work, the sooner I’ll start to feel useful. Useful people don’t have time to feel like the new kid.

“Mr. James. It’s so lovely to see you again.”

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