Page 2 of Coming Around Again

“What makes you think I don’t already love my life?” I ask, just a little offended.

Viv raises her eyebrows and tilts her head to the side, and I cave. “Okay. Okay, so I am really proud of my professional life, and I’m finally seeing my MBA pay off. And I’m here with you,” I add, reaching over to nudge her panda-clad knee, “and that’s awesome and amazing and cool. So that part I’m pretty satisfied with. But you’re right. Something is missing.”

Desmond, my heart says. I tell it to shut up.

“You want someone to share it with,” Vivian says softly. I nod, fighting off an ache in my chest. “Don’t we all? I’ll cop to it. I love you, Naya, but sometimes I wish I had a man in my life.”

“Me too,” I confess.

“He just has to be the right man.” She tilts her head back against the couch cushions. “If I were building the perfect guy, he’d be tall...but not so tall that I’d put my neck out of joint kissing him. And handsome, of course,” she goes on, dreamily. “I won’t specify hair color or anything restrictive like that, but there has to be an attraction.”

“Well, yeah.” I’m remembering how, from the first minute, I wanted Des like an ache in my bones. Even though I’d been inexperienced and didn’t know exactly what I wanted him for, I wanted him.

“And not a freeloading, basement-living gamer. Someone who has a career of his own and understands that I have one, too, but doesn’t want me to support him.”

I’ve agreed with everything she’s said so far, but now I add something she’s missed. “And someone who doesn’t think only about himself. Someone kind.”

“Unselfish. Yeah, add that.”

We lapse into silence for several moments, until Viv shakes her head like a dog shedding water and stands up, explaining she’s got an early start in the morning. We exchange good nights, and I ready myself for bed.

I settle into my familiar, comfortable bed in the unfamiliar bedroom, and repeat my affirmations for success before I doze off.

The next day, I dress carefully and conservatively: burgundy shell blouse, black pantsuit. Black low heels. My long hair in a twisted ponytail. Some subtle, natural-looking makeup. I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, judging.

My reflection is a confident woman, ready to handle anything the world throws at her.

My commute isn’t far, but traffic is heavy. Still, I pull in at GoPlay’s office in the SouthPark neighborhood on time and do a one-minute round of affirmations for calm before stepping out of my car.

The receptionist is ready for me. The IT director—my new boss, Michelle—comes to the lobby to greet me. I already know her from my interview and our communications by phone and email, but it’s nice to see her in person.

We spend the morning touring the facility and getting me settled in my small office on the fifth floor, not far from the other IT personnel and Michelle’s own office. We walk through an overview of an upcoming expansion project, one I was specifically brought on board to head up, and I meet a number of coworkers over a lunch of takeout pizza and salad.

While Michelle and I are looking over some of the variables I’ll be quantifying for the project, the COO’s personal assistant knocks at Michelle’s open door. “The upper-level managerial meeting has been moved to 3:30 p.m., in the small conference room upstairs,” she informs us with a smile. “And the COO is looking forward to meeting our new hire in person.”

“We’ll be there,” Michelle says. We spend the time making plans, and then a few minutes before the meeting, we head upstairs to the executive-level floor.

I have time to notice that the conference room is comfortably but not luxuriously furnished, and it isn’t all that small, before Michelle introduces me to Peter Whishaw, the chief operating officer, the person I will ultimately be reporting to. He greets me, tells me that my resume is impressive and he’s looking forward to working with me. He tells me that the CEO is a member of the founding family, who prefers to remain in the background most of the time. However, he says, some of the family members are still involved in daily operations.

“There’s time enough later for all that,” he says. “We’re about to start.”

As I’m taking my seat, I look around the room.

And sitting straight and tall at the conference table, in a dark blue suit that makes his eyes blaze with color, is Desmond.

I look closer as my mouth falls open in shock, and he returns my stare, crossing his arms. The complicated expression on his face runs through several muddled emotions, then resolves into an easier one to read: fury.

Desmond.

2

DESMOND

I’m deep in some esoteric managerial reports when the soft knock startles me into looking up. It’s my cousin Chase, who works down the hall in Marketing. “Hey, want to go grab some lunch?”

I check my watch. It’s already quarter to one. “Yeah. Let me mark my place.” I stand up and grab my suit jacket. “Where do you have in mind?”

“Raj Palace?”

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