“My love”? “Mid-life”? “My love” probably...
I placed it around my neck and ran my fingers along the charms, wishing that he was here—explaining what every charm meant and making love to me out in the open...
“Miss Gracen, is everything okay? Is something wrong with my idea?”
“What?” I snapped back into reality. “No, Tiffany...Your idea is perfect.” As usual...
“Well, thank you! That means a lot coming from you! And thanks for letting all of us meet you in a coffee shop. Our old director never did anything like that.”
I smiled. “My pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your day.” I shook her hand and watched her walk out of the shop.
I’d spent all morning meeting with my associates at the Starbucks across town. I’d told them that they needed to show me their ideas, make a short pitch, and once we agreed on it they could have the rest of the day off.
Was she the last one I had to meet today? Doesn’t that make fifteen? God, I’m losing it...
I was trying to do everything I could to break my routine, to start getting over Jonathan and anything that reminded me of Statham Industries. I hosted staff meetings at pastry shops, found a new park to do my weekly running, and drove out of my way to go to a different beach when I wanted to relax.
I even asked Helen and Sandra to set me up on group dates on the weekends to prevent me from sulking alone at night. But, no matter how nice some of those men were, none of them compared to Jonathan. At all.
I stood up and ordered another cup of coffee, stopping once I saw the front page of the Wall Street Journal. The headline was “Too Good to Pass Up!” and Jonathan was on it. He was smiling in a well-tailored tuxedo and standing on stage addressing his employees at the IPO ball.
Don’t pick it up...Don’t pick it up...You have to get over him, you have to get over him...
I grabbed my latte and sat back down. I desperately wanted to text him “Congratulations” or ask “How does it feel to finally be public?” but I wasn’t sure if he would text me back. And I knew that if he did, I would disregard whatever he said and write “I miss you.”
I opened my folder and started going though the directors’ proposals, making small notes here or there, shaking my head at how perfect their work was.
“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice said.
I flipped a page and didn’t bother looking up. “No, not at all. You can take it away.”
“I wasn’t planning on taking it away. I wanted to know if I could sit down with you.”
I lifted my head up and my eyes widened as soon as I saw the man’s face.
Jesus...
This man was perfection in every way. Every. Single. Way. With his deep brown eyes, dark and sexy bedhead hair, and tanned skin that I could see underneath his unbuttoned shirt, he made me forget whatever I was working on.
I was trying to figure out how old he was; he looked young, but not ‘Jonathan-young.’ As a matter of fact, he looked like he could be my age or maybe—he licked his lips and my thoughts immediately stopped.
“So...” He pushed a few dark locks away from his forehead. “Can I join you?”
I nodded.
“Thank you.” He smiled and sat down, looking at my notebook. “You work for Signature?”
I nodded again.
“My company used them for our phone campaign last year. They do pretty good work.”
I cleared my throat. “What phones? And what company do you work for?”
“The iPhones, Apple. But I don’t work for them. Everyone works for me.” His eyes gleamed.
“You’re Damien Edwards?”
“Yes, and you’re stunning.”
I blushed. “Thank you...”
“What’s your name?”
“Claire, Claire Gracen.”
“Pretty...” He smiled again. “Am I interrupting something important?”
I shut my folder. “Not at all.”
Chapter 27
Jonathan
My life had fallen apart and I couldn’t catch a break: First, Claire broke up with me—out of nowhere, and begged me to leave her alone, forcing me to take a two week vacation to Los Cabos so I wouldn’t run after her.
Then, as soon as I returned to the states, as soon as I walked into the HR department and started to help them with their restructuring plan, I learned that she’d put in a two weeks’ notice.
I thought about showing up to her farewell party—backing her into a corner and forcing her to admit that she wasn’t serious about leaving me, but I stayed in my office instead.
As the weeks passed, I thought she would call or text me—to at least say “Congratulations on the IPO being official,” or “I’m still willing to be your date to the ball” but she didn’t. She didn’t say anything, and I showed up to my IPO ball as the only executive without a date on his arm.
“John? Man, are you there?” Corey cleared his throat. “Hello? Hello!”
“Yes?”