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The smile I wore made my cheeks hurt as I drank in the photo. I wasn’t sure if this was the technical definition of success, but it was sure something. It at leastlookedsuccessful, even if some things looked more perfect than they really were. For example, this picture didn’t hint at the patterning mistake I’d made that meant my dress swished too much against the floor on only one side of the dress—a total design error that I couldn’t wait to tell my professor about.
And the other thing this picture didn’t hint at? The fact that Damian had ghosted me within a half hour of my arrival.
No, he wasn’t obligated to stay at my side all night or hunt down yummy snacks like the stuffed mushrooms or hold my champagne while I ate spicy foods. Those were just the things Iwantedhim to do while I pretended he was my date, even though he’d never be caught dead linked romantically with someone like me.
But what had I really expected? Damian could be icier than Antarctica, a trait he didn’t hesitate to reveal as time went on.
I basked in the surreal fanciness of the photo for the rest of my trip. By the time I’d stepped onto the platform and breezed my way through the subway station, it was 7:50 a.m. Perfect timing. I wasn’t fully caffeinated, but the adrenaline from seeing my first near-debutante outing featured on social mediaandmaking it to work on time after slaving away on fashion all weekend was a close second place to a shot of espresso.
And wasn’t I just living the New York life? I couldn’t fight the grin. I’d never felt so giddy.
My life had changed dramatically, thanks to Damian. Even if he would never press those pouty lips against mine, I could at least admire him from afar for the rest of my time at his company. That would have to suffice, at least until I found some other introverted tech genius to fall into unrequited love with.
My phone vibrated with an incoming message as I surged into the gleaming lobby of the Fairchild building. I reviewed my phone dully—as any New Yorker would. A commonplace occurrence in my fancy life, with this fancy job, attending fancy events.
But my grin faltered once I saw who had messaged me. It was my sister Tara. Which meant something unpleasant lurked around the corner. My stomach knotted in anticipation.
TARA: Wow. Just saw the party pics from yr wild wknd in NYC.
The grin fell further, lead weights at the corners of my lips.
JESSA: It was a work event. Mostly boring.
A total lie. I’d been enchanted by every moment of that evening from start to finish. But I couldn’t let Tara know that I actuallyenjoyedsomething.
TARA: How much are they paying you?
I didn’t want to answer the question. I didn’t even want to be asked the question. I’d confided in Jeremy about my new salary out of sheer excitement after I’d started, but he knew better than to share that with Tara.
Didn’t he?
I swallowed hard, pocketing my phone as I reoriented myself. I’d missed the elevator going up, thanks to Tara.Shit.I headed for another door, hitting the button, as more people gathered in the waiting area. I tapped out a reply as the numbers of a different elevator ticked downward.
JESSA: Standard salary for this type of position in the city, nothing crazy.
Except going from roughly $22,000 per year to six figures wasfucking crazy. Even I couldn’t fully believe it.
TARA: So, what are you making with the Fairchilds? $20/hour or something?
My stomach didn’t just pitch downward, it got on a high-speed elevator to hell. I made more than double that. My average hourly wage was a number that would make Tara choke. But everything about New York made regular people choke: the traffic, the salaries, the sky-high rents, the sheer number of hot dog stands. Tara couldn’t understand. She’d never even left northern Kentucky.
I ignored my phone and boarded the next elevator that opened. It was 8:02 already. I was officially late. Nervousness wrenched my stomach as I stared at the ascending numbers, tucked behind ten other people. When the doors opened at the Fairchild Enterprises level, I strode purposefully to my desk at the back of the building. I spotted Trace heading down the hallway to the conference room, and he jerked his head into a nod.
“Morning, Trace,” I sang out. “I’m late today, don’t tell my boss, okay?”
He cracked a grin. “He’s late too. What a coincidence.”
His words hinted at something I only wished could be true: that we were both late because of the other one. But that wasn’t true, and would never be true. Not when Damian kept me at an arm’s length and had perfect-cheekboned Harper in the wings. I’d planned to ask him where she’d been that night at the fundraiser, but he’d disappeared before I could probe even slightly. Which just seemed like confirmation that he’d been rushing off to meet her somewhere.
At my desk I drew a deep, cleansing breath as I set my purse down and surveyed the quiet area. Damian’s door was closed though maybe he was already in the conference room. The air felt crisp and inspiring inside Fairchild Enterprises, somehow, though maybe that was just an extension of how I felt about the brothers.
From day one, they’d always seemed destined for greatness, possessing some otherworldly essence about them. Sure, that might have been my unrepentant schoolgirl crush lending them some of that celebrity status, but the truth was plain to see. All these years later,theywere the ones on top of the world. Nobody else from Lipscombe Schools, nobody in Oakville itself had gone even half as far. And as far as I could tell, Damian lived and breathed helping people—including lost dreamers like me.
I drew another deep breath. No more daydreaming about Damian. It was time to work.
TARA: ????? Forget how to text?
I frowned down at my phone. No more of this conversation with my sister, either. At least not during work hours. I unpacked my lunch, my essentials bag, my sketchbooks for downtime, and put everything in its rightful place—which also included the phone going into my desk drawer. But before I hid it away, I fired off a quick response.
