Page 5 of Unless It's You
Nausea crashes over me. Why hadn’t I read this email over the last few days, around drinking wine with my sisters, having coffee in my mom’s bright yellow kitchen, or hanging out with my teenaged niece? I could’ve mentally prepared myself.
I could’ve avoided this absolute panic at the thought of my ex-boyfriend’s best friend—who absolutely hates my guts—being my new client.
I can still feel his lips on mine from that night. Why do I remember the feel of Ethan’s lips more than I remember Ben’s?
Maybe there’s another Ethan Fraser who happens to be the client lead for Sporting London. Maybe it’s nothim.
Guess I’m about to find out.
3
ETHAN
The wheels of the double-decker bus squeal as it screeches to a halt along the back edge of Regent’s Park. A young mother and her toddler pad down the steps from the upper level, giving me something to look at for a few seconds other than the text that pinged in ten minutes ago.
Paul (Mum’s landlord)
Hello. I’m selling the flat. You’ve got thirty days to empty it
Fuck me.
Thirty days? Three months hasn’t been enough, so I’m sure as hell not going to figure things out in thirty days.
Maybe this will be the kick in the arse I need.
Mum’s landlord isn’t the nicest man. He certainly didn’t think to sugar coat that text. But I haven’t had direct contact with him in a long time, since I’ve continued to pay Mum’s rent, just like I did the last years she was alive. And until now, he’s quietly accepted my online payments without a word, not even amy condolencestext message when she passed away. Did he wonder why I haven’tstopped paying, even though she’s gone? He certainly has no idea I’m unable to even enter Mum’s flat. And sure as hell doesn’t care.
I respond with a simpleokay.
Two ladies in their sixties settle in across the aisle from me, chattering away. This is what Mum and her best friend, Suzanne, should be doing if Mum’s life hadn’t veered so badly off course.
Maybe I’ll go visit Suzanne when I’m up in Newcastle this weekend, like I did last time. I keep thinking talking to someone who knew Mum will help me move past whatever barrier is keeping me frozen in place with the flat. Maybe this time will be the charm.
And since Helen still lives with Suzanne, her mum, I’d probably see her, too. Our mums were close friends while we grew up, and when we finally dated, I know at least Suzanne was hoping it’d last. She’d thought we were a good match, me and Helen. Ben was the odd one out, hanging out with us despite his golden, shiny family.
As usual, thoughts of Helen confuse me. I shift in my uncomfortable bus seat as we turn the corner around the park, Lord’s Cricket Ground just visible on the right. We were close to getting back together before that night with Stella. Now Helen has made it clear she wants me. Again. But she’s complicated. We were together, then she had a brief fling with Ben. She chose him.
But that’s all ancient history.
Maybe going to see Helen and Suzanne is just another way for me to go all the way to Newcastle and still avoid the flat, just like the last time, when I stayed with Ben’s parents. They kept giving me pitying looks—the same looks they gave me when I was a kid and Mum would disappear again and again, either physically or emotionally. Ben would bring me home to dinner five nights in a row, or hiking on the weekend followed by a week-long sleepover, during which his parents would force us to do schoolwork in between tossing a rugby ball. I don’t know how I would havegotten to where I am today without Ben and his parents, Robin and Simon.
The bus pulls to a halt, and I trot down the steps and hop off at Baker Street. I dodge the London commuters and position myself against one of the tall buildings while I check my mobile for directions to Pepper Me Marketing.
Maybe I’ll no longer think anything inappropriate when I’m face-to-face with Stella. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her—long before she and Ben broke up. Maybe she’ll have no effect on me and today will be completely professional.
Once inside the building and up a short ride on the lift, I tell the Pepper Me Marketing receptionist who I am, and the twenty-something woman smiles at me. I must have successfully put my professional face on.
“Ethan?” A tall, slender woman strides toward me from down the hall.
It’s not Stella Hart.
“Yes.” Maybe I’ll get lucky and Stella will have quit between the time I got the invite on my calendar earlier this week—with her name so prominently at the top of the attendee list—and today.
“I’m Tessa Brown. Wonderful to meet you in person. Most of the team is already in the conference room, but we’re still waiting for our account director.” Tessa gestures for me to follow and glides away, confident I’ll be behind her.
I adjust my rolled-up sleeves that display part of the tattoos covering my arms from wrist to shoulder, and trail Tessa around a corner and down a long hallway, leading to a big, open-plan workspace. Interconnected desks with low cubicle barriers fill the room.
“Thank you so much for coming out to see us in person today. We’ve found that when we have our clients with us on site for at least part of the project, we get so much more done. It’s so collaborative, right? We can just talk things out, face-to-face. Brainstorm. Get our creative juices really flowing.” Tessa flashesme a bright white smile. “I know you understand, given your experience with ad development.”
