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I’m not certain about that at all, especially if he decides to look carefully at how much of my resume involves volunteer positions at the twins’ old preschool and realizes this is my first real job. But Mark’s already rising, already leading me back past the unfriendly receptionist and on to his boss. There was no mention of the CEO on the website, but it’s easy to imagine the sort of miserable old man who awaits us, a guy who doesn’t want to spend a dime on his employees but probably flies by private plane.
I follow Mark inside an office ten times the size of my cubicle…and stare, open-jawed, at the man sitting behind the desk.
He is, in no way, a miserable old man.
It’s Caleb, all grown up. He was in college the last time I saw him, but I’d know his face anywhere. It featured prominently in every innocent andnotso innocent fantasy I had through adolescence, after all, and it’s twenty times more handsome now—all hard angles and soft mouth, a jaw in need of a shave.
I have kids to support and more shit to manage than I can possibly handle well, but something stirs to life in my chest anyway—tiny, baby butterflies whispering that perhaps this is fate. Because how else do I explain the fact that my childhood crush has reappeared in my life just as I’ve become single?
He tugs at his tie, scowling at me. “I really hope this is a joke.”
2
CALEB
The girl I watched prancing around my backyard all fucking weekend is in my office, and my buddy Liam’s got to be the one behind it.
He saw her outside yesterday afternoon babysitting someone’s kids and didn’t stop talking about her rack for a minute. I’m not sure how he convinced her to walk in here in a skirt pretending she’s the new hire, but I’m not amused.
I wait for the two of them to start laughing, for Liam to pop out from around the corner to slap Mark on the back.
“Caleb—” Mark’s voice is wary, uncertain, and if he’s acting, he’s better at it than I thought. “This is Lucie Monroe, our new director of employee programs. Lucie, Caleb Lowell, our…” He looks at each of us in turn. “Do you…know each other?”
It’s not until he saysLuciethat something clicks.
It can’t be.
There was a kid named Lucie who stayed next door at the lake occasionally when I was a teen. Big, gray-green eyes, talking a million miles a minute when she got the chance. It can’t possibly be the same girl, can it?
I study her more carefully. Everything about her has changed, but not those eyes, the color of a stormy sea.
“We used to be neighbors,” she whispers to Mark. Her voice is nearly mute with surprise, which makesneighborssound like a euphemism for something much, much worse: an ex or someone she took a restraining order against.
Holy shit. Itisher, and I don’t know who I want to punch more—Liam, for what he said aloud, or myself, for silently agreeing with some of it.
Mark’s mouth falls open. “Neighbors?Where?”
“It was ages ago,” she replies, biting her lip.
“We’restillneighbors,” I correct, and she winces. Maybe she’s wondering if I saw her swimming in her fucking underwear on Saturday night.
Yeah, Lucie, I definitely saw. You grew up. Jesus, did you grow up. And I need to know why I suddenly can’t seem to get away from you.
She appears to be surprised to find me here, and I guess it’s possible—I’ve had my name scrubbed off everything online—but there’s too much overlap for this to all be a coincidence.
I glance at Mark. “Can you give us a minute?”
My tone is more a demand than a request, yet Mark hesitates, shooting me a look that asks what the hell is happening before he complies.
The door shuts, and Lucie slides into the chair on the other side of the desk. Her hair is lighter than it used to be, still dark but shot through with streaks of honey and caramel, perhaps because she’s finally allowed to go outside during the summer. Robert Underwood’s illegitimate child. I guess it’s still a secret since I’ve never heard anything about it, and he’s famous enough in my field that I would have. I’d have hoped she made the bastard pay for her silence, if nothing else, but she’s working here...so probably not.
“This is a surprise,” I begin. I clear my throat. “I didn’t evenrealize it was you until I heard your name. It’s been, what, fifteen years?”
“Thirteen,” she says, blushing. She blushed a lot as a kid, but it hits different now. I want to punch myself in the face again. “I thought you’d sold the house.”
“I bought it back last month. I had a place down in Santa Cruz but I needed a change of pace. I guess Miss Underwood left you her cabin?”
She nods, her eyes fixed on her lap. “I haven’t really come out much, but I’m going through a divorce, so we needed a place to stay. I’ve got twins. They turned six last week.”
