Page 82 of Someone Just Like You

No. No. No!My stomach lurched at the memory of her criticizing me, copying my entire department and hers, for not warning her of a potential conflict of interest in a deal. She’d conveniently deleted said warning from lower down in the email string, but it would have looked worse for me, not to mention petty, to forward the original correspondence in my defense rather than simply apologize. My fingernails bit into my fisted hands. “She’s not at Sole Balance anymore?”

“She’s relatively new to the company, so she must have quit there recently.”

I placed my palm against my forehead. How did I not know about this? I gasped, remembering how I’d sent résumés to the company right after Michael first chastised me about my recruiting practices over the summer. Since Pro City Sportswear was a repeat client, I’d relied on my previous due diligence that had raised no red flags. If I’d trusted my gut, I’d have done my research again then, and then again when they resumed the hiring process more recently. But I hadn’t. And now Romero might have to pay the price for my negligence. I squeezed the pink-and-purple crocheted stress ball Nicole had bought me for Hanukkah to release some aggression.

“How closely will you guys be working together?” I asked.Squeeze.Maybe they’d just be casual colleagues, only seeing each other at department meetings and staff parties.

“My direct report is the senior legal counsel, but since Maxine is her boss, I’ll ultimately report to her too.”

Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze.It was possible Maxine was nicer to people in her department than outside counsel. I chewed my lip, recalling a conversation with her former in-house paralegal after Maxine had driven her away from Sole Balance, which suggested otherwise. I could warn Romero right now. Except it had to be breach of…something…to badmouth a client or discourage a candidate from taking the job after being the one to set up the interview in the first place. My heart thumped wildly.

Fuck. Since I wasn’t ready to come clean to Romero about my personal experience with Maxine, I promised to be in touch as soon as I heard anything, and we concluded the call. Under different circumstances, I’d be proud of how well I had maintained my cool. Jude would be impressed.Squeeze. It was best to leave Jude out of this entirely and figure out what to do about my candidate.

I closed my eyes and blew a breath of air out of my lips. A decent interview didn’t automatically result in an offer. Maybe Pro City Sportswear would extend it to an applicant working with a different recruiter, and I could just remove myself from the equation altogether. I hated myself for hoping my candidate and friend didn’t get what he thought was his dream job, but I might hate myself more if he did.

After work that night, I hung my purse on the storage bench by the front door and went straight to my bedroom to change into running clothes. The sun had set, but it was a relatively mild day for January and the wind chill wasn’t too bad. The fresh air would clear my head and, if I was lucky, lead to an epiphany regarding my next steps with Romero and maybe even Jude too.

With my Taylor Swift mix playing in my ear, I jogged east to an area of the FDR Drive well-populated with other runners and walkers, where I felt safe despite the dark. Three miles and zero epiphanies later, I walked up and down the East River Esplanade, a wide two-block segment of space overlooking the water, for my cool-down. My heart surged at all the dogs out. A white labradoodle stretched out on its leash and licked the bare skin on my calf where my cropped black running pants ended.

I removed my earbuds and bent to scratch his ears. “Aren’t you cute?”

“I think so.”

I straightened my back and smiled at his owner, a guy somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties.

He returned my grin.

I ran my palm along my ponytail and subtly checked him out, from his dark messy hair peeking out from under his baseball cap to his stubbled jaw and his laid-back attire of a black windbreaker over baggy jeans. He was adorable. At least Jude hadn’t destroyed me for other men. I was still capable of feeling attraction and getting my flirt on.

My eyes widened.Oh. I sucked in a breath. I recognized this man—or at least his type—right down to his taste in dogs. This one wasn’t agoldendoodle, but close enough. My stomach roiled in understanding of the habit playing out before my eyes as it had done so many times before, only this time with my knowledge. I felt my face drain of color.

“Okay, bye!” I said before running as far away as possible from Jude version I-can-no-longer-keep-track as fast as I could until my ribs cramped and my lungs begged me to stop. At the water’s edge, I leaned over the railing and caught my breath as tears stung behind my eyelids. My phone rang, and I jumped in surprise. Maybe it was Jude. With shaky hands, I glanced at the screen.

“Hi, Nani.” I wiped my eyes.

“I was sitting in my living room playing solitaire on my iPad when your pretty face popped into my head. I had this eerie feeling you needed me. Is everything all right?”

“Not even a little bit.” I fell onto the nearest bench and hugged myself. “I do need you. When can I come over?”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

That Saturday, I took the train to Riverdale, the residential neighborhood in the Bronx where Nani lived. The scent of cookies wafted through the air as I made my way from the elevator to her apartment down the hall. She was waiting for me at the door, as always, and had pulled me into her arms before I even said hello.

She let go and scanned the length of my body. Finally, she looked up at me. “Did you get taller?”

I wiggled my nose. “Nani, I’m twenty-seven. I stopped growing about ten years ago.”

“Well, it can’t be because I’m shrinking. Absolutely not.” She winked. “Coffee?”

I was about to decline her offer—I’d already had two cups that morning—when she said, “I have Bailey’s.”

I giggled. “Then the answer is a resounding yes!” Nani was especially darling when she was buzzed, and a shot of Bailey’s in her coffee would do the trick. “Do you need help?”

She waved me off. “Make yourself comfortable.”

While she headed to the kitchen, I retired to the living room and sat on the taupe paisley-printed fabric couch. Liquid warmth infused my body within seconds as I took in the familiar surroundings of the space Nani and Papi had called home since I was born: the armchair, upholstered to match the couch, where I’d sat on Papi’s lap countless times when I was a little girl; the glass candy bowl on the small wood end table from which I’d plucked hundreds of individually wrapped caramels, Hershey’s Kisses, and strawberry bonbons; and the beige-and-gold area rug atop the hardwood floor where my sisters and I played with dolls and Legos while the adults did their grown-up things. Through the years, the apartment had been upgraded with new furniture and modern appliances, but even with the addition of a stainless-steel refrigerator, granite kitchen countertops, and new tiles in the master and guest bathrooms, it still felt the same—homey, cozy, and safe—just like Nani herself.

She handed me my personalized “Molly” mug then went back to the kitchen for her own cup, along with the bottle of Bailey’s, in case one shot wasn’t enough. “I forgot the cookies!”

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