Page 1 of Rules in Love
Finn
My world changed when I was seventeen.
The hand of fate delivered lessons I would never forget and wounds that may never heal. I became a dad. I lost my parents and my girlfriend, and some days, when the hole was so deep and dark that I could see no light at the end, I feared my mind too.
One thing saved me.
My daughter.
At twenty-four, life changed again. Though, thankfully, it was by choice. My seven-year-old daughter, Iris; my sister, Evie; my Aunt Jocelyn, and I had recently left our home in Australia and taken a twenty-two-hour flight to New York City to begin a fresh life.
That was how I found myself in Manhattan, on Sixth Avenue, walking into the intimidating office of Wise, Bernstein, and Wright. It was my first day on the job as a junior architect. It had been a shit morning, and I felt like I was about to chuck.
Iris had given me hell because I couldn’t braid her hair like a twenty-two-year-old influencer named Tatiana. Then, I almost killed myself by turning onto the wrong side of the road when leaving the daycare. Apologies had been issued to the 6,785 people I bumped into on the sidewalk, and I only made it to my office with one minute and thirty-nine seconds to spare. I was a fucking mess. And not just today. There were too many moving pieces in my life recently, and I was not a fan.
My dislike—almost distrust—of change could not be underestimated. I was a routine man, and over the last few years, that routine had been set in concrete. My life consisted of monotonous days alone in Sydney, at university, my first job, and road trips to and from my family’s farm in Byron Bay. When at home, my days were filled with doing what I could to ensure my family’s happiness, regular dad stuff, and, if I could swing it, a bit of time on the waves with my best mate, Nate.
Suddenly, I was waiting for an elevator, sweating in a suit that felt like a straitjacket, while being sneezed and coughed on by some weird lady who smelled like pizza.
“You look nervous. Let me guess, job interview or first day?” My apprehension must have stuck out like a sore thumb for her to guess on the first go.
“First day. It’s that obvious, huh?” Pizza Lady and I entered the elevator. She tried to console me with a tale of her sister and how she was fired five minutes into her last job. For whatever reason, that failed, and the stupid breathing techniques Evie had taught me after a meltdown on the flight from Sydney came to mind.
“Close your mouth. Inhale through your nose for seven counts. Hold your breath for a count of four. Exhale through your mouth, making a whoosh sound for eight.”
I only realized I was reciting it aloud when the guy next to me, who was dressed like a member of The Village People, elbowed me in the ribs. “Hey, you got that all wrong, buddy. It’s in for eight, hold for eight, out for four.”
“You’re an idiot! What, are you trying to get him to pass out? It’s in for eight, hold for four, out for seven,” inserted Pizza Lady.
“You’re both idiots,” added a hot blonde with a lovely set of, uh…teeth. “It’s definitely hold for seven and out for eight.” As things got heated, it struck me that New Yorkers were weird. They went out of their way to be nice and help you while speaking to you in the rudest possible way.
When we reached my floor, the elevator was in an uproar with several people Googling simultaneously to confirm that theirs was the correct method.
“Hey, good luck on your first day, buddy,” the construction guy yelled as the doors closed behind me.
“You got this,” I mumbled, slapping my thigh as I entered my new nine-to-five home. High-end, swanky, and architecturally stunning—pick a descriptor, and this place would be it. High ceilings, exposed brick, floor-to-ceiling windows, and finishes so crisp that I didn’t want to touch a damn thing. With each hollow footstep on shiny marble, a twinge of homesickness hit. I missed the feel of sand between my toes and dirt under my nails. I was desperate for something familiar.I told myself, ‘You’re doing this for them. To give us a better life. The life you promised Shelby.’I again practiced the breathing exercises, and whether it was my thought, my breathing, or the warm smile on the Martha Stewart look-alike approaching me, I finally calmed.
“Finn Austen, I presume,” she chuckled. “I’m Jan from HR. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times, but it’s nice to see you in person. Let me take you through to the partners.”
“Thanks, HR Jan. I mean, Jan. Sorry. I’m a touch nervous.”
“I expect you are. It’s a big step you’ve taken, not just changing jobs but continents too. I promise you’ll be safe, though. We don’t bite.”
Jan led me to the first of the partners’ offices belonging to the youngest of the trio, Jason Wright. “It’s great to have you here rather than on a video call, Finn. By God, you are a giant of a man, aren’t you? All the singles in the office will be thrilled to meet you.”
“Not just the singles,” Jan quipped as she twisted her pearls around her finger.
A flush of heat tickled my cheeks. Even though it struck me as an odd joke for someone in her role to make, her humour was appreciated, and I huffed out a much needed chuckle. As the procession of new names and faces rolled on, not everyone was as engaging.
“Fill these in…please,” sighed a beautiful but icy chick named Victoria as she handed me a stack of paperwork, then eyeballed and tutted me as I filled them out. Victoria’s role was left a mystery, but the way she protectively hovered over Jason, I guessed she was either his biggest fan, bodyguard, or merely a heavily invested assistant. Next, I was given a business rundown with the other partners, Joseph Bernstein and Herman Wright, the latter suffering the severest case of old-people stank I’d ever come across. Once that was completed, the circus hit the road, and Jan led me on a grand tour. First up was the thrilling copy, board, and conference rooms, then the emergency exits. Jan talked non-stop while I hyper-fixated on smoothing out my accent in reply, aiming more for Sam Worthington, less like Crocodile Dundee.
“Our offices here may be a little bigger and bolder than you’re used to in Sydney. And a little more extravagant too.”
“It’s certainly bigger, but Sydney is bloody—uh…I mean, very extravagant too. We have some of the priciest real estate in the world.”
“Well, you should feel at home here in New York, then. I thought I would have to sell a kidney to afford my first apartment.” With a silent chuckle, I followed my guide into the kitchen. “This is the single most important item in the office.” Jan’s hand slapped the coffee maker. “Can I get you one?”
“Caffeine probably won’t help the jitters much, but sure, that would be great.”
