Page 4 of Deal Breaker
He shrugs. “Not until two days ago. My assistant pulled her résumé when we were vetting consultants. Honestly, I didn’t think she’d actually take the job.”
I stare at him. “She’s Landyn, Jesse. You think she’d back down from a challenge?”
Jesse raises both brows, but he doesn’t push. He never does. He’s the only person who’s ever understood exactly how far he can poke before I start swinging.
“We need her,” he says simply. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I do. And so does Noah.”
I turn away, gripping the railing of the mezzanine that overlooks the floor below. Designers, marketers, logistics teams—they’re all moving, building, believing in this thing I created from the ground up. Every spare cent, every sleepless night, every piece of myself. I bled for Cove. And now she’s in the middle of it.
“I’m not over it,” I say, not looking at him.
“I didn’t think you were,” Jesse replies. “But she’s not here for you. She’s here for the brand.”
The brand.
That’s what matters, but all I can see is Landyn’s face. That chin tilt. That fire in her eyes. “I’m here,” she had said, like it didn’t cost her anything to walk back into my life after 7 years and act like we’re strangers.
“She’ll work under you,” I say.
Jesse’s quiet for a beat. “You sure you can handle that?”
“I’m not handling it,” I say flatly. “I’m avoiding it.”
I push off the railing and leave Jesse in the hallway. I avoid my office, instead heading down the stairs and circling the floor like I’m checking in on things, like there’s a fire somewhere only I can put out. But all I’m doing is trying to outrun the image of her standing in that room with her head high, her voice steady, completed unbothered.
Eventually, I give up the fight and head back upstairs to my office. I shut the door behind me, lean against it, and let the silence swallow me whole.
My office is spotless, as always. Floor-to-ceiling windows pour late afternoon sunlight into the room, illuminating the polished walnut desk. I designed every inch of this place, from the recessed lighting to the pair of deep brown leather wingback chairs to the gold fixtures on the built-in shelving that runs the length of the room. Every single detail of this office, this building, this company is exactly how I want it.
Except her.
I cross the room, sit down, and open the small box I keep in my desk drawer I haven’t touched in years. A thin leather cord with a silver clasp. It was looped around her wrist every day of our first year of college, until she gave it to me, telling me it was lucky. We were only 21 at the time.
“Don’t lose it,” she’d whispered, brushing a kiss to my jaw. “You’re going to do something big one day.”
I didn’t lose it.
But I lost her.
I pick it up, roll it between my fingers. It’s ridiculous that I kept it. But I did. Along with everything I never said to her. Like how she was the only thing in my life that made sense to me. How I thought we had time. How I would’ve followed her anywhere.
Now she’s back. In Deep Cove. In my company. And I’m expected to pretend we’re strangers, just two people who happen to share a past we’ve both outgrown.
Except I haven’t.
Not even close.
The day drags. I stay at the office longer than I need to, answering emails and pretending the pain behind my eyesis from staring at a screen for too long. By six thirty, most of the team has cleared out, the office quieting into that after-hours hush I usually like.
Not tonight.
Tonight, it feels like the calm before a storm.
I head out with my keys clenched in my fist and make the familiar drive home. Past the highway. Past the pine-studded hills that hide the winding trails we used to hike in the fall. The ones she said made her feel like she could breathe.
