Page 22 of Diverge

FINN

Great, one last hurdle to jump until the weekend. I’m about to put the phone down on my desk when I see Nate’s name flash on my screen alerting me to a text. The same ugly feeling I felt that night returns. I really should explain to Nate everything that went on, but is it even relevant if it happened ten years ago?

NATHAN

My heart picks up speed at him calling me baby.

Call me old-fashioned or whatever, but it just makes memelt.

I should probably go back to the office after I meet with Finn to finish off some work that I have been putting off for way too long. I consider it for a moment, but I would much rather be anywhere else than here.

ME

––––––––

NATHAN

ME

I hesitate for a minute when I don’t see him replying. Putting my phone down, I notice Fiona making a beeline towards me.

Fuck.

The photo shoot.

I was meant to put together all the collateral for our client after their photoshoot, and I still haven’t done it. It was due a week ago. She’s going to eat me alive.

“Is everything okay, Billie?” She stands at my desk as the other people in the office look over at us, interested in what the next gossip is going to be. Newsflash: Me. The gossip around here is always me.

“Hi, Fiona, yes, everything is fine,” I manage to say through the anxious pit in my stomach.

“Then why haven’t you sent through the collateral? It’s been over a week.” Her face is stern.

“I’ll get onto it right now.”

My phone buzzes as a text from Nate comes through. I can tell she’s pissed because she takes one look at my phone and walks off without a word.

NATHAN

*****

The moment I enterthe Bond, my heart soars, threatening to crack through my chest, and run into Finn’s hands as I lock eyes with him. He has always been good-looking. Even when we were teenagers, he couldn’t cross the street without having all the girls turning their heads to steal a glance at him. Looking extra fabulous today in his form-fitting black Armani suit, he stands immediately as he pulls out a chair for me to sit. Taking off my jacket, I take a seat.

“What are you drinking? I’ll have the waiter come over and take your order.” I can tell he wants me to be comfortable around him, but the truth is, I’m still hurt, and the longer I am around him, the harder it is to control the feelings I’ve tried to mash down into the black abyss. It’s like driving past a house you lived in for years, all the memories you made were there, the good and the bad, and each time you drive past, you can’t help but sneak a look as your heart reminds you of all the wonderful things you experienced.

“I came to talk to you because Grace asked me to. I don’t plan on staying long,” I admit.

Looking down at the table, he reaches for my hands when I instantly pull away, afraid that if I let his touch linger for too long, all those familiar feelings and memories will flood through their hidden gates.

Grimacing, he begins to talk. “My father needs your help.”

I look up at him in shock. “What?”

“We need someone to help with our marketing collateral, and he knows you studied design and currently work in the industry, so he wants me to ask you to help with a full brand refresh.” He looks at me expectantly.

I’m stunned. “Mr. Mackenzie has a world of designers to choose from. Why me?”

“You have talent, B.” He sits back in the chair and waits for my response. I don’t know what to say because there are one million questions that are running through my mind.

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