It would be close to a decade before I ever saw him again. I'd just received a promotion at the event planning firm I worked at, and I was in the process of moving into my new office when it happened.
"Morning," Malika greeted from the doorway, stepping forward to hand me one of the two cups of coffee she was holding.
I took a break from unpacking to drink it, giving her a slow once over as I did. As far as assistants went, she was a pretty decent one. I'd hired her when she was still fresh out of college, and it didn't take long for our relationship to evolve into one that halfway resembled a friendship. Halfway being the operative word there. Where I was from you didn't go hooking up with your friend's ex-boyfriend no matter how attractive you found him.
"Nice dress," I said, trying my best to remain cordial despite the fact that her engagement ring was staring me in the face. This wasn't a conversation I was trying to have this early in the morning. If she wanted me to know that Peter had proposed, she was gonna have to be a big girl and tell me herself.
Malika smiled, but it never quite reached her eyes. "It's from Neiman. Pretty right?"
I nodded and went back to unpacking the box on my desk, avoiding making eye contact with her.
"I just wanted to remind you that you have a conference call with Mayor Greenwell coming up in a few," Malika said, dropping her hand back down to her side. "He wants to discuss his upcoming fundraiser with you."
"Mm," I mumbled, massaging my temples. Terrific. I could think of no better way to start my week than to have foul-mouthed Mayor Greenwell in my ear bitching about everything under the sun. He had to be one of the only people in office who didn't just delegate petty tasks to their assistants.
Malika gave me a sympathetic look. "I could always reschedule if you're not up for it," she offered. "Just say the word."
"No, that's fine," I told her. "I'd rather just get it over with."
Malika nodded, turning to leave before I could get any second thoughts.
"Do you happen to know if Jada's back from picking up that order yet?" I called after her. "I'd like her in on the call. She has a way of calming him down when he starts throwing around f-bombs and trash talking leftwing media."
Malika rounded the corner to check. "She just walked in," she called out. "I'll see what she's got on schedule and have her give you a call."
"Great, thanks."
I watched through the glass as Malika made her way back to her desk, cringing when Peter emerged from the elevator to give her a light swat on the ass. Sigh. The only thing worse than working for your ex was watching him play house with your much younger assistant.
There must have been some 'Torture Chantel' memo going around that I'd yet to get my hands on. There had to be. I'd been at work all of an hour and I'd already bumped into the two lovebirds playing tonsil hockey in the hall, feeding each other bites of yogurt in the break room, and feeling each other up just about everywhere else. At this rate it was really only a matter of time before I walked in on them trying for a baby in his office.
"Chantel," Peter greeted from my doorway, taking a tense sip from the coffee mug in his hand. "You're looking as radiant as ever this morning."
I rolled my eyes and buttoned up my blouse, not wanting him to see any more of my cleavage than he already had.
"So-hey-do you happen to remember any long-distance travel tips from your flight attendant days?" Peter asked, completely ignoring the look of disdain I was giving him.
"My flight attendant days?" I challenged. "You mean the summer I spent getting shat on by racist snowbirds in order to put myself through graduate school?"
Peter nodded.
I shrugged, taking a moment to think it over. "Uh … I don't know. Don't puke? Avoid talking about bombs?"
Peter gave me a pointed look. "Really? That's the best you've got?"
"Why?" I asked him, feeling my agitation leak its way into my tone. "Are you researching honeymoon locations? Because I hear the Caribbean is awfully nice this time of year."
If Peter picked up on my sarcasm, he didn't show it. "Nah," he said, taking a seat on the edge of my desk. "I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to make the jet lag less of a bitch. I'm leaving for Monterey later tonight and I can't afford to let it kick my ass."
"Mexico or California?"
"Mexico?" Peter snorted, giving me an amused look. "I'll have to recommend that one to corporate and get back to you."
I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the box I was unpacking, crossing my fingers that he'd take the hint and leave.
Surprise, surprise.
He didn't.
"You gonna be okay to hold down the fort while I'm gone?" he questioned, studying my face for any sign of what I was really feeling.
"Of course," I said, giving him a tense smile. "I always do, don't I?"
"Well there was that one New Years Eve..."
"You mean the New Years Eve you got so hammered you almost burnt down the party we were hosting?"
Peter laughed in remembrance.
"Seriously?" I chastised. "That poor girl was laid up in the hospital for six months with third degree burns over more than half of her body, and you're laughing?"
Peter held up his hands in defense. "Hey, it's not my fault her coordination sucked. Besides-I think we both know that would've never happened had you ensured the catering team were all wearing the industry required non-slip shoes."
That was Peter for you. He couldn't accept blame if his next breath depended on it. I gave him a dirty look to combat the snide one he was giving me, shaking my head in disgust. I really had to stop giving assholes the time of day. It never ever ended well.
Peter tapped his knuckles on my desk before sashaying for the door. "Just don't do anything too creative while I'm gone," he called over his shoulder. "Especially with the Kennedy wedding. It's the most lucrative affair we've landed in years."
The Kennedy wedding?
I hadn't gotten around to looking at that particular event request yet, but I acted like I knew what he was referring to for the sake of getting him out of my office. "Got it," I said. "Is there anything else?"
Peter studied my face for any fleeting signs of affection. When he didn't find any, he shook his head and disappeared down the hall.
I had just begun to relax again when my phone rang.
"What's up?" Jada greeted when I picked up. "I hear you're in need of my mediation skills."
"You heard right," I told her. "I have this call with Mayor Greenwell coming up in a few. Would you take it? Please? I'm way too hungover to deal with him right now."
Jada took a moment to think it over. "Sure," she said after awhile. "I kinda like him. He isn't afraid to say what he's thinking."
That was Jada for you. She could sniff out the best in anyone.
"You're a saint," I said, letting out a breath of relief. "He's calling now. I'll transfer him over to you."
I took a few minutes to relax once I finally had her off the line, but the moment of peace was short lived when a loud knock on my door catapulted me right back into professional mode.
"Come in," I called out, straightening up.
A slender blonde stepped inside my office, taking a seat across from me. "I'm Lauren Kennedy," she introduced, extending her hand to me. "I believe you're the woman I hired to plan my wedding?"
So this was the prolific Kennedy wedding Peter was so worked up over.
"Correct," I said, faking as though I was familiar with her event. "Chantel Woods. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Lauren gave me a slow once over before turning to address someone in the doorway. I followed her gaze thinking it was Peter coming in to introduce himself, but who I saw instead left me feeling as though all the air had been siphoned from my lungs.
It was Jack, only it wasn't. He stood before me looking every bit as taken aback as I was, but I was too busy digesting the changes in his appearance to come to his rescue. The business suit he had on stretched taut across muscles that hadn't been there in his youth, but it was the slight five o'clock shadow he was sporting that really caught my attention. It accentuated a chiseled jaw that only adulthood could afford him, offset by a head full of healthy brown hair that was styled much shorter than it'd been in his teen years. All in all, he'd aged well, but there was never any doubt in my mind that he would.