Page 33 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

Jenny. My best friend since kindergarten, and Garrett, my first love. He was my first handhold, first dance, first kiss, my first…everything. I thought I was going to marry him and have his babies. He broke up with me because I was too serious about marriage, and he didn’t think he wanted kids. He was marrying my best friend, and they were having a baby.

I clicked through the other pictures in the post and saw photo after photo of the two of them together. One caught my attention. It was from the New YearbeforeGarrett and I broke up. I knew it was because he’d broken his wrist, and I painted on his cast, which was in the photo of him kissing her. He’d gone back to Seattle to spend the holidays with his family, and I stayed in San Francisco because I had to work.

They’d already been secretly seeing each other for ayearbehind my back.

Moisture filled my lower lids before spilling over and falling down my cheeks. I wiped them away, but more followed.

“Ashley.” I looked up and saw a tall woman with long blonde hair. “We’re ready for you.”

I stood and took a deep breath. When I started to follow her, more tears began to fall down my face. “I’m…I’m sorry, I can’t…I have to go.”

12

DECLAN

The SUV pulledto a stop in front of the Wolfe Hotel. It felt strange not going home. It was also strange to be a guest in the hotel that I’d grown up in but never actually spent the night at. I hadn’t come here last night after I left Serena at our condo. I’d gone to the office and worked instead. I knew that I wasn’t going to get any sleep, so I really saw no point.

“Same pickup time tomorrow?” Lester asked as he opened the door.

“Yes,” I confirmed as I got out. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Lester tipped his chin in a nod.

I walked in through the sliding doors of the hotel, where I would be staying for two nights until I left for Japan. I called earlier to reserve the executive suite, which was the room we typically comped for people, but I was told it was occupied, so I was going to be staying in the penthouse. I would have gladly spent the night in one of the standard rooms, but considering those are more likely to be booked, it was actually more advantageous for me to reside in the presidential suite.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out and saw a message from my grandmother asking me to call her. I wondered if Serena hadreached out to her. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had. She’d contacted me several times today, but I’d ignored her messages. There was no reason to speak to her. I wasn’t going to marry someone I didn’t trust.

Serena was used to getting her way. She was an only child whose parents overindulged her. She worked as a model, but not because she needed the money. She had a trust fund that she could easily live off of. She modeled because it fed her ego. That wasn’t a judgment; it was a fact. She loved attention. I never had an issue with that. But between the job and her family feeding her sense of entitlement, she had no respect for boundaries. Originally, it had been a concern of mine, but after the first few years of it never being a problem, I’d proceeded with the relationship. I should have trusted my gut in the first place.

“Mr. Wolfe.”

I turned. “Fatima, it’s good to see you.”

Fatima Patel was the general manager of our flagship Central Park New York City location. She was in Atlanta doing executive management training this week. I’d hired her four years ago, and she’d fast-tracked through the ranks. She was ambitious and smart, and after being trapped in an elevator with her for fourteen hours during a winter storm and blackout two years ago in New York, we’d gotten to know one another much better than I knew any other employee that I had working for me.

I knew that her parents were both immigrants. She was the eldest of seven children. She had a younger brother with cerebral palsy who she cared for because her parents both passed away, one from cancer and one from alcoholism.

The familiarity had not been a one-way street. I’d spoken to her about my parents dying, my own issues with mysophobia, and my OCPD. That piece of information slipped out when I had a panic attack around hour ten. She knew more about me than anyone else in this world besides my therapist and Hannah,although I’d never told Hannah directly; I knew that she knew. She was too bright and knew me too well not to. Fatima knew more about me than I’d ever shared with Serena, which said more about my relationship with Serena than I cared to admit right about now.

“Good to see you, too, Mr. Wolfe.”

“Declan.” After being in a confined space and sharing intimate details of my life, formalities sort of go out the window.

She nodded as a sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather. He was an inspiration. I truly respected him.”

I saw her eyes glossing over with emotion. One of the reasons she’d wanted to work for Wolfe Enterprises was because of my grandfather. She’d read an article about him in Time magazine when she was in middle school, how he was an immigrant who came here when he was eight and didn’t even speak the language. He built an empire from nothing, and it inspired her.

“He thought the world of you.” I’d barely gotten a chance to speak to her at his memorial service. Over fifteen hundred people were in attendance. It was a testament to how respected he was in this industry. “How is the training going?”

“Good. I really like DeShawn. I feel like he is going to breathe new life into this place.”

“Great.” DeShawn Walters was the last person my grandfather hired. It would make him happy to know that Fatima saw the same potential in him that he had. “Keep me updated.”

“I will.” She nodded. “Oh, how’s Serena doing?”

“We’re not together.” Fatima was only the second person I’d told. Hannah was the first, although Lester might have a clue since my pickups and drop-offs had changed.

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

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