Page 176 of Last First Kiss

“As in I’m not firing you,” Kami confirms. “Suspension over.”

He lets out a long breath. He still has a job. Another shot at—

Kami bursts his bubble before it gets too big. “You’re not ready for the events manager position, Jordan.”

Damn.

She folds her hands on the desk. When Jordan doesn’t speak, she goes on.

“You’re unquestionably one of the best at what you do. But growth takes time and experience. You’ll be better than I was. Certainly better than Denz was.” She laughs warmly. “We don’t need to rush it.”

Jordan nods along.

The sting is brief. He thought it’d hurt more. All his hard work to earn the position. To prove himself to her, to everyone. But, to his own surprise, Jordan is fine with Kami’s decision.

With the rejection.

“Thanks, Kami.” Unexpectedly, he adds, “Javi would make a better candidate,” because it’s true.

She sits back. “You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

As annoying as that villain mustache and arrogant smirk are, Javi has a way of winning people over. Jordan included.

“You know what I think?” Kami asks.

“Almost never,” he says with a laugh.

“I think Javi’s great”—a slow grin curls her lips—“but he’s no Jordan Carter.”

A smile threatens to rip Jordan’s face in half. “Thanks,” he says again.

“I’m in no rush to fill the position,” Kami announces. “If he wants it, he’ll have to beat you for it. Are you game?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

“Good. Now get back to work while I figure out a way to convince my son a trip to Legoland for his birthday is the worst idea ever.”

Before he leaves, Kami adds, “Also, someone’s waiting for you in your office. I’m not the only reason you still have a job, Jordan.”

“You look disappointed.”

Jordan isn’t. At least, he’s trying not to be.

After Kami’s last cryptic words, he wasn’t sure who to expect. Maybe Javi? His mom?

He knows who his hearthopedit would be. It was a silly, ridiculous thought. There’s no way it’d be him.

Still, the tiniest, stupidest part of him clutched on to that hope as he walked to his office.

It’s Amy he finds instead. Not the gown-wearing, teary-eyed, on-a-rampage Amy he last saw. Instead, she’s in cropped jeans, a dark denim jacket over a T-shirt that readsTHE DEAD ROMANTICS. Her hair is held off her face by a pair of sunglasses. She looks every bit the bookish girl she described herself as.

TherealAmy.

“I’m not disappointed,” Jordan says.

“You’re sure?”