Page 24 of The Promises We Break

I’m not sure how Jake does it. I could never share Ember. Just the thought of her with another guy makes my body tense, gripping the steering wheel of this Chevy truck so goddamn hard I could snap it off. Even more so, a deeper jealousy blankets over me, thinking of someone else getting her days, her time, her moments. The special ones. Her excitement, her joy, her love.

Fuck.

I just need to get over it. Get over her. It was one goddamn night. I need to get settled here, send her divorce papers—annulment papers—and just move on. I have so much to focus on with the Smashers now, and I need to be present. Invested. Having her at the forefront of my mind is the exact opposite of what I committed to my coach.

I also told him I was fucking married. To a woman that doesn’t even know my last name, lives in another state, and runs from me every chance she gets.

As I pull into the parking lot of the Ford building, I park the truck and stare at the ignition button.Push Stop. If only my emotions could be that easy.

I press into the button, allowing the engine to cease, and will my perpetual thoughts of Ember to do the same.

12

EMBER

Mom: You’re being very selfish. Don’t you think you’ve had enough time for yourself?

Mom: You better get this out of your system fast. Do you know how lucky you are that Elliot wants you? He won’t wait forever.

Mom: Do not ignore me, young lady.

Mom: We’ve given you plenty of time. You need to fulfill your obligation to this family.

My relationship with Elliot might as well have been arranged with how much they are pushing him on me. I know my father wants Elliot to work for him throughout his campaign, but I don’t need to be married to him for it. Although my father, Robert Riley, Governor candidate, and his right-hand man, Elliot Jones,his son-in-law, appears to be so much more prestigious in the eyes of an antiquated community.

The chokehold they’ve had on my life has only gotten stronger the closer he gets to the campaign, and even worse, the more I pull away.

Even the rotten tone of my mother’s texts and archaic thoughts of Weston, Missouri can’t shed the smile off of my face as I look around my new boss’s office.

We’ve gone through the full day of orientation, meeting the teams and going through the expectations she has in my new role at Ford Enterprises.

“I see you also applied for the New York office. Did you apply for the location or the position?” she asks, handing me a few folders of current projects I need to familiarize myself with along with my brand new iPad, already set up in a case ready for use.

“Both actually. The position sounded amazing, but the fact that it was in Manhattan was a plus. It’s a bucket list item for me… living in New York,” I say with a smile.

“Well, maybe one day, but for now, I’m glad we snagged you for our Seattle operation.”

“Me, too. I couldn’t be more excited. Today has been a dream,” is all I can muster to say to the amazing woman that saw something in my resume, in me, to give me the experience I am currently having.

I am the newest, and I think youngest, Marketing Manager for one of the most well-known companies in the US. The need to pinch myself is real.

Not only is the company amazing, but my new boss is one of the coolest women I’ve ever met. She’s smart, driven, and easygoing, yet I know she has expectations of me because her intent is clear. The moment she walked into the HR office, her presence alone was commanding. But one smile and introduction of herself and I felt instantly at ease. Like my mind andbody felt comfortable, but I had no choice but to automatically respect her. She demands it by way of body language and a smile, and giving it to her is easy.

I strive for that kind of presence one day, so getting to learn from her is going to be literally life changing.

“Your credentials speak for themselves, Ember. I knew immediately when we met last week you were the perfect person for this role. Everything about you completely aligns with our image, what our company represents, and our goals.” The tears are looming, but I somehow manage to push them away. The fact she believes in me more than my parents ever have is a realization that I will probably need therapy for sooner than I’d like to admit.

It’s the end of the first day and I wish it didn’t have to end. Who wants that? I don’t want to leave. I want to work, plan, schedule.

Although, as much as I’m dying to find an excuse to stay in the office, I do need to get back to the hotel to get my luggage. Everything moved so fast that I just booked the closest hotel to work. It’s the nicest hotel in the entire downtown area, and I could only afford one night, so I checked out this morning and left my bags at the front desk.

I have to look for an apartment, but until then, I was able to find another hotel for much cheaper. After booking it, and paying the same amount for two weeks that I paid in one day at the hotel across the street, I found out—according to Google—it’s in the most dangerous neighborhood in Seattle.

Lovely.

It’s temporary. Which is the same thing I’ve been telling myself since I arrived yesterday. The first few weeks will be a lot, but itwillget better.

Plus, it can’t be worse than staying with my parents in the smallest town in America, listening to them tell me how I’m wasting my time and energy climbing a corporate ladder whenI should be changing my name toMrs. Elliot Jones, to become the wife to the boy next door.

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