Page 1 of That Next Moment

Prologue

-Clay-

Then—Ten Years Ago

“You can’t be serious.” Ophelia spun away from me, her hair flying as her body's movement matched her tone. “We agreed. . .”

“No,” I countered. “We never actually agreed.” I pointed at her, my finger aiming like a bullet, trying to prove my point. “We’ve talked about it numerous times, but we’ve never set anything final.”

Ophelia leaned her head back and looked up to the sky, a long sigh coming from her. Hunching her shoulders, she quickly shook her head.

“New York. . .” she stammered.

“Was just an option. There are fashion companies in Seattle, boutiques you could work for—possibly even start your own—”

“Clayton,” Ophelia spat, her Southern drawl coming out every time she said my full name. “I have an offer in New York City to work for Harold Martin, one of the biggest names out there. You even helped me send my application! If I give this up to go work at some boutique, that would literally be killing me.”

I furrowed my brow and glared down at her. I towered over her. Being six-foot-two, I was always considered for a sports team—even though numbers were my thing. To Ophelia, being a little over five feet, I was a giant, especially now as my anger rose and I took a step toward her. I simply felt taller.

“And asking me to go work for some bank instead of a law firm would be humiliating to me.” I pointed at my chest. “I have an offer at Jackson and Rye—a very prestigious law firm in Seattle. If I don't take this—Ophelia, it would be the end of my career as an accountant. I would never be able to succeed in anything ever again.”

My eyes burned, searing into her as she pursed her lips, her body building so much tension that it could have been cut with a knife. I wasnotgoing to give up something I had worked so hard for just because we hadn’t actually reached an agreement.

That's all it was anyway, right—an agreement?

“That’s a little dramatic, don't you think?” She pinched her brow and raised her arms, only to slap them down against her thighs. “The woman always has to give up her dream for her man.”

The way she said “man” hit me the wrong way. The fire in my throat rose, and before I could stop myself, I snapped.

“Yes, Ophelia, yes. Your dreams can happen anywhere. You can buy a sewing machine and make clothes anywhere, but for me, an offer like this only comes once in a lifetime, and I will not be giving it up to sit behind a counter at a bank counting bills for the rich. I will never grow from that. Come with me to Seattle or. . .” I scuffed and took a step back, taking a deep breath, my mind reeling. How could she not support me here, how was I the one who was expected to pack up and leave everything? “Or we’re. . .” I tried to finish.

Ophelia held up a hand, stopping me from saying anything else. Her bottom lip began to quiver. Her plump, soft lip that I had kissed so many times, that I had run my thumb against over and over, was quivering. At any other time, my reaction would be to wrap her in my arms, calm her nerves, and take away all her tears, but tonight. . .

Tonight, I wasn’t going to give in.

She blinked, and a tear dropped onto her cheek. “So.” Her voice shook. “I take it we’re not getting married then?”

I inhaled and stood up straight. I licked my lips and shoved my hands in my pockets. Looking into her deep eyes, I could see the tears puddling up before they fell. I loved Ophelia, but I needed a stable life with a stable career, and she obviously didn’t want to be in it.

It was hard to believe that just days ago, I proposed, promising her a life that she deserved, willing to give her anything and to put my life on hold so she could become the great person she was supposed to be. But the job offer at Jackson and Rye: simple account data entry with the possibility of promotion from within. Full Benefits. A 401k. A company car. A life of luxury. She expected me to turn that down for a dingy New York apartment.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she didn't want to come with me.

I shrugged. “I guess not,” I finally muttered.

The tears flowed freely after I spoke. Ophelia’s breath was shaking, and she nodded, her body tense as she turned her back and walked away.

I watched her as she took my heart with her, as her body grew smaller and smaller with each step she took.

Chapter One

-Clay-

Now

My alarm clock rang at 5:00 a.m. like always. The memory of a dream that always seemed to haunt me pulled me from my sleep. I reached over Rebecca’s body to grab my cell phone, silencing the annoying tone. Rebecca moved against me, reminding me that she was still very much naked under my sheets. I kissed her shoulder and ran my hand down her bare arm, feeling her shudder under my palm.

“Go back to sleep,” I whispered.

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