When I entered InTech headquarters the following Monday, I
was feeling like I had swallowed a ball of lead with my
coffee that morning. And with every step I took in my
office's direction, the sensation kept intensifying, as if the ball were
expanding and taking more and more room in my stomach.
I hadn't been this … uneasy ever since that awful call a couple of weeks
ago when I had heard that Daniel was engaged. The one phone call where
the lie had come to be.
But this was different, wasn't it?
This heaviness in the bottom of my stomach had nothing to do with
something I had blurted out in a moment of desperation and stupidity.
Although maybe it did.
Because as much as acknowledging that the way I felt had anything to
do with how Aaron and I had left things on Saturday was the last thing I
wanted to do, I had. And as much as I refused to waste a second of my time
worrying over it, I had.
Which was absolutely ridiculous because why would I want last
Saturday—or him—to take any space in my head? I had no reason to. Not
consciously at least. We weren't friends. We didn't owe anything to each
other. And whatever he had said—or done, or looked like, or smelled like,
or the way he had smiled or held me as we danced or even whatever he had
whispered in my damn ear—should have bounced right off me.
But apparently, my mind had other ideas.
"Being your friend has always been the last thing on my mind."
Those had been his words. He couldn't have said it any clearer.
Fine by me. I had never wanted to be his friend either. Except maybe for
a couple of days when he had first started at InTech.
But that ship had sailed long ago. I had blacklisted him for a reason, and
that was where he should have stayed. In my blacklist.
The only teeny-tiny problem was that I sort of needed him. And I …
God. I'd deal with that later.
Shaking off all of Aaron's drama and burying deep that kernel of
uneasiness so it did not grow into something else, I placed my bag on my
chair, grabbed my planner, and made my way to the room where our
monthly Breakfast & Broadcast was held. Jeff, our boss and head of the
Solutions Division of the company, and all five teams that he coordinated
attended. And no, we didn't have breakfast and watch the news.
Unfortunately. It was just a meeting that took place once a month, where
bad coffee and a really sad excuse for cookies were provided and where Jeff
updated our division on the latest news and announcements.
Being one of the first in the room, I took my usual place, opened my
planner, and went through a few reminders I had noted down for the week
while the room filled out with people.
Feeling a soft brush of a hand on my arm and the light scent of peaches,
I turned, already knowing who I'd find smiling down at me.
"Hey, Jim's or Greenie's for lunch?" Rosie asked in a hushed voice.
"I'd sell my soul for a bagel from Jim's, but I shouldn't." Today was
definitely not a salad day; my mood would plummet down even more, but
the wedding was right around the corner. "So, Greenie's."
"Are you sure?" Rosie's gaze slid to the cookies displayed on the
narrow table placed at the entrance of the room. "God, those look worse
than usual."
I chuckled, and before I could answer, my stomach grumbled. "Kinda
regretting not having breakfast," I murmured, looking at my friend with a
grimace.
"Lina." Rosie frowned, her voice holding a warning edge. "That's not
you, sweetie. That diet you have been on, it's just stupid."
"It's not a diet." I rolled my eyes, ignoring the voice in my head that
was agreeing with my friend. "I'm just watching what I eat."
She cut me a look that told me she didn't believe me. "We are going to
Jim's."
"Trust me, after the weekend I had, I'd let you take me there, and I'd
raid the place, but it's gonna be a no."
My friend searched my face, probably finding something in there
because an eyebrow arched. "What did you do?"
I leaned back on my chair, a little huff leaving my lips. "I did not—" I
stopped myself. I had done plenty. "I'll tell you later, okay?"
Her eyes filled with concern. "At Jim's." With one last nod, Rosie
shifted past me and walked to the chair next to Héctor, her team leader.
When I caught the eye of the old man, I waved at him with a small
smile, receiving a wink from him.
And then—catching me completely off guard, even when it shouldn't
have—my Aaron radar went off. Warning me of his presence.
My heart lurched in my chest, and my gaze hunted him down.
He is not that good-looking. He's just tall, I told myself as I took him in.
Something in my rib cage sped up.
It was the tuxedo because my body is surely not reacting to that buttondown shirt and those pressed slacks, I thought as my eyes followed his long
strides to the chair I knew he'd take a couple of rows in front of me and to
my left.
Yeah, his face is certainly nothing to write home about, I reminded
myself as I studied his hard and masculine profile, from his jaw to the dark
line of thick hair framing his forehead.
See? I've got this under control. My body is back to normal. I didn't
need the comfort of a cream cheese and salmon bagel.
But then Aaron looked back. His eyes met mine across the room.
Finding me looking at him in a way I presumed was a little too intense for
someone who had sworn wouldn't pay him any attention only a few
minutes ago.
I felt my cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and I'd bet I looked like my
whole face was on fire.
And yet, the one who averted his gaze first wasn't me. It was him.
Aaron's eyes fell down and stayed somewhere ahead. Somewhere that
wasn't me.
Something about that did not sit well with me. Something about the fact
that he had just dismissed me so quickly bothered me more than ever.
But before I could delve too much into that, Jeff's voice pulled me right
back. "Good morning, everyone," he said, and the low muttering in the
room turned into silence. "This Breakfast & Broadcast session will be fairly
short. I need to run to an impromptu meeting I was called to in about thirty
minutes, so don't get too comfortable, and have your fill of cookies before
it's over." Our boss laughed lightly.
Nobody bothered to move. Obviously.
"As you know, we are undergoing some important changes in the
structure of InTech. A rearrangement of the responsibilities will take place
—among a few other things, of course. Everything will have a repercussion
on the structure of the company as we know it today. But this is not a reason
to worry. Most of the changes will be integrated gradually and throughout
the upcoming months."
The screen that hung from one of the conference room walls showed an
organizational chart of our division with our boss's name highlighted on top
—Jeff Foster—and the names of the five team leaders right under his—
Aaron Blackford, Gerald Simmons, Héctor Díaz, Kabir Pokrehl, and me,
Catalina Martín.
There had been rumors—nothing more than corridor whispers—that
something big was about to happen in the company. Something that would
shake things up. But no one really knew what was about to come.
"Having said that," our boss continued after clearing his throat, "there is
an announcement I'd like to make now, before any of it is officially released
in a corporate statement."
The man—who my friend and colleague Rosie had referred to as a
silver fox one time when she was a little tipsy—who was all gray hair and
natural charm, seemed to hesitate for a moment. His hand flew to the collar
of his shirt, tugging at it lightly.
Jeff pressed a key on his laptop, and a new slide was displayed on the
screen. One with a diagram that was very similar to the one presented
previously. Almost a duplicate, it was essentially the exact same, except for
one single detail.
The name filling the blue square above the five team leaders in the Tech
Division was no longer Jeff's.
That ball of lead I had been feeling since early that morning fell to my
feet.
Our boss clasped his hands together, my gaze bouncing between him
and the screen. "I am pleased to announce that Aaron Blackford will be
promoted to head of the Solutions Division of InTech." Jeff's words entered
my ears, traveling all the way to my head, where they seemed to bounce
from one wall to the next, unable to be processed by my brain. "Aaron has
been one of the most consistent and efficient members I have ever had the
pleasure to oversee, and he has proven himself worthy for this promotion
time and time again. So, I have no doubt in my mind that he will do an
amazing job as head of the division."
Everybody had been shocked into silence. Just like me.
"It hasn't been decided when he'll take over all my responsibilities
while I undertake a more advisory role for InTech, but I wanted to give you
—the Solutions family—the news first. Even if it hasn't been officially
announced yet."
Jeff continued talking then, probably going through whatever was in the
agenda of the Breakfast & Broadcast next. Or maybe not—I didn't know. I
wasn't listening. I couldn't when his announcement was the only thing
spinning in my head.
Aaron Blackford will be my boss.
My gaze shot to Aaron, who was leaning back in his chair. His gaze
kept fixated somewhere in front of him, his expression impassive. Even
more than usual.
There was a pause and some clapping. To which my hands joined in
automatically.
Aaron Blackford will be promoted to head of the division, and I just
went on a date with him. A fake date but one to anyone looking.
For an instant, I was hurled back in time. To a past I had left behind and
did not want to remember. Or relive ever again.
Shaking my head, I tried to appease the whirlwind of unwelcome
memories. No, I wouldn't think of that right now, not in front of everyone.
My gaze, which was still latched on to Aaron, studied his vacant
expression.
This changed everything. Whatever was … between us.
It no longer mattered that he was my only option. It didn't matter
anymore that no one in Spain would believe we were dating because we
bickered and argued constantly. It did not matter that he had confessed he
never wanted to be my friend and that I didn't know where that left us.
None of that mattered because, now, the deal was off. It had to be off.
I would not play charades with the man who was to be promoted to
head of my division. My boss.
There was no way I'd put myself in a situation I had already been in,
which had ended up so badly. For me. Only for me. So, even if all of it
would be fake—had been fake last Saturday—I simply would not risk it.
The screeching of chairs brought me back to the room. I watched
everyone swiftly stand up and scatter, Aaron included.
I met Rosie's gaze, gaping green eyes framed by dark curls.
Holy shit, my friend mouthed.
Holy shit indeed.
And she didn't even know all of it yet.
I caught a glimpse of Aaron's back somewhere behind Rosie, and a
resolution that hadn't been there a moment ago solidified in my mind.
Mamá had taught me better than to leave things hanging over my head.
Ignoring and waiting for them to go away on their own wasn't the smart
thing to do. Because they didn't. Sooner or later—and just when you least
expected them to—they'd fall off right on top of you, and chances were,
they'd take you down with them if you let them.
With newfound determination driving my body, I waved at Rosie and let
my legs walk me out of the meeting room. My short limbs were on a
mission, trying to catch up with the long strides of the man I was chasing.
In the matter of a couple of minutes, which wasn't long but about
enough for my heart to start racing with a weird and strange anticipation, he
reached his office. I entered only a few steps behind him.
I watched Aaron walk up to his chair and let his body fall onto it, his
lids falling shut and his right hand reaching for his face. He rubbed his eyes.
He must have thought he was alone because I didn't think Aaron had
ever allowed himself to look like this when there was someone around. So
weary. Real and not that steel facade he always put on.
Just like it had happened on Saturday, the urge to comfort him rose
again. And despite myself, I almost started in his direction and asked if he
was okay. Thankfully, the little common sense I had around this man
stepped in and stopped me from embarrassing myself.
Aaron did not want my comfort. He didn't even want to be my friend.
Standing on the other side of his desk, only that piece of functional
furniture separating us, I finally made my presence noticed.
"Congratulations!" I blurted with a dose of extra enthusiasm that I regretted
immediately.
Aaron straightened in his chair, his palm falling to the armrest.
"Catalina," he said in a voice that, now, I could not hear without thinking of
last Saturday. His gaze zeroed in on me, his features piecing back together.
"Thank you."
"You deserve the promotion."
He did. And beneath everything I was feeling in that moment, I was
only happy for him. Genuinely.
He nodded in silence.
Grabbing on to my planner with both hands, knowing it was the only
way I could keep myself from fidgeting, I hunted my disjointed mind for a
way to voice what I had come here to say as we stared at each other in
silence.
"I think we should …" I trailed off, still not finding a way to say it. "I
think it's better if we—" I shook my head. "I know you probably don't have
the time to talk. But I think we should do that." I watched him frown.
"Privately." That frown deepened. "If you have the time, of course."
I didn't want that door behind me closed because the idea of being in a
room with Aaron made my heart do silly, stupid things that I was trying
really hard to ignore. But it was the only way to ensure nobody would either
come in or walk by and overhear us.
"Of course," he said with his brows still furrowed. "I always have time
for you."
That stupid lurch in my chest resumed.
Swiftly, Aaron unfolded his body from the chair and walked around the
desk and then around me while I kept my gaze where he had been a few
seconds ago. Standing there like a total dummy, I heard him shut the door,
the noise echoing in the silent room.
"Sorry," I mumbled as he reappeared in front of me. "I could have done
that myself. I just didn't—" I sighed. "I didn't think. Thanks."
This time, he didn't return to his chair. Instead, he leaned his body on
the edge of the wooden surface of his desk. "It's okay. We can talk now."
Those blue eyes of his pinned me down, waiting.
"We can talk now, yes," I repeated, squaring back my shoulders. "I
think we should do that." I watched his head nod, feeling my skin clammy
with trepidation. "It would be good to clear the air after … all that's
happened."
"Yes, you are right," he admitted. Bracing his arms on the desk, his
hands grabbed on to the edge. "I came into work today with the intention to
get you after the meeting. Suggest that we could have lunch together and
talk."
Lunch together.
"But we never do that."
Aaron sighed very softly. "I know," he said almost bitterly. "But I
wanted to take you anyway."
I stared at him, finding it hard to ignore the effect his words had on me.
"I don't think I'll be able to now. My whole day has been sidetracked by
the news."
That … that was just as shocking as him admitting to wanting to have
lunch with me.
"You didn't know Jeff would announce your promotion?"
"Not really. I didn't think that was going to happen anytime soon.
Especially not today," he confessed, sending about a million questions
rushing through my mind. "But that's not important now. You want to talk
about us, I assume. So, let's do that."
"But it is," I countered, feeling outraged on his behalf and ignoring the
way that us had made me feel. "I think Jeff ambushing you like that is
important. I can't imagine why he would do something like this. It's just"—
I lowered my voice, realizing it had somewhat risen—"unprofessional."
The blue in Aaron's eyes simmered, now looking surprised himself. "It
is; you are right. And I'll talk to him about how much, trust me."
"Good. You should."
Something softened in his face, and I averted my eyes, letting them rest
somewhere above his shoulder. Not wanting him to know I cared as much
as I did. Simply because I shouldn't. We were still the same Lina and Aaron
we had always been—certainly not friends—and about to be divided by a
whole step in the hierarchy of the company.
Releasing one of my hands from the death grip I had on my planner, I
scratched the side of my neck. My gaze still refused to shift to the left,
where it'd probably connect with his. So, instead, it moved down, following
the seam of the blue button-down that covered his wide shoulders while a
thick silence wrapped around us.
"Listen, about our deal—" I started.
"On Saturday, I—" Aaron said at the same time.
Finally returning my eyes to his face, I found him gesturing for me to go
ahead. I accepted the chance with a nod.
"I will say this, and I'll be out of your hair, I promise." I exhaled
through my nose, not paying attention to Aaron's frown. "Now that you will
become head of our division—which, again, it's really great, so
congratulations." I let a polite smile tug at the corners of my lips. "Things
for … us will change." I shifted on my feet, not happy with how that
sounded. There was no us. Not after Saturday and not after this. "What I'm
trying to say is something that you have probably figured out yourself, but I
just want to clear the air between us."
Aaron's jaw clamped.
"Our deal is off. It was stupid, and now, it makes even less sense than it
did. So, it's not a big deal. I helped you out on Saturday, but you don't owe
me anything. Consider it payback for giving me a hand with the
organization of Open Day, okay? We are even."
I had expected to feel a big weight lift off my shoulders, but that was
not what happened. Instead, it was as if my words had sunk me further
down into the ground.
"We are even?" Aaron asked, his hands lifting from the oak surface and
then falling right back again. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you don't owe me," I said with a shrug. Fully aware of
the fact that I was repeating myself. "You can forget about all this
nonsense."
His eyes filled with a dangerous mix of confusion and frustration.
"I think I'm being pretty clear, Aaron. You don't have to go through
with your end of the deal. No flying to Spain, no wedding nonsense and
pretending to be my boyfriend. No playing charades with me. That won't be
necessary."
"Your boyfriend?" he asked very slowly.
Ah shit. I hadn't used the word boyfriend the first time, had I?
"My date, whatever."
"Have you found someone else? Is that what this is?"
I shot him a look. Was he for real right now? "No, that's not it. Not at
all."
A muscle in his jaw jumped. "Then, I'll come with you."
Exhaling roughly, I fought to keep the irritation off my face. Why was
he always so goddamn difficult? "You don't have to anymore."
"But I told you I would, Catalina. It doesn't matter that you think that
we are even or not." His voice was so sure, the way he said it so confident
that it was hard not to doubt my decision. "Saturday doesn't change
anything."
"But it does," I told him a little too briskly. Aaron opened his mouth,
but I didn't give him an in to talk. "And your promotion does too, Aaron.
You will be my boss. My supervisor. Head of our division. We shouldn't
even be entertaining the idea of you coming to a wedding with me that
takes place somewhere all the way across the ocean. The things people
would say if they found out. I won't allow myself to be questioned—" I
stopped myself, realizing I had said too much. "It's just too …"
Ridiculous? Reckless? All of the above?
I shook my head, feeling light-headed and depleted. "It's just not
necessary anymore."
But of course, Aaron wouldn't let anything go without a fight. "I
understand you being wary now that the news is out." He shook his head. "I
didn't think it would happen this fast. But there's nothing I can do about
that now. It doesn't need to change anything where we are concerned."
Aaron waited for me to speak, but instead of words rising to my lips, an
avalanche of something different throttled down my throat.
Memories of a time when I had been stupid enough to get myself in a
very similar position. One that hadn't involved a made-up relationship, but
one that had been real. So real that the hurt over how it had blown up in my
face was something I wasn't willing to ever relive or even get within
shooting range of.
"That's a risk I won't take." I heard my own voice, and I was aware that
it had given away more than I would have liked. "You wouldn't
understand."
"Then, help me out here," he told me, something honest and open about
his request. "Make me understand. Give me at least that."
My throat worked as I thought of those words that had been on repeat
on my mind. "No. That kind of treatment is one I reserve for friends."
Something flashed across his face, and I expected him to snap back in
the way he and I always did. But instead, he said, "Catalina." And it
sounded all wrong and far, far from snappy. "If I said that I didn't mean
what I said on Saturday, it wouldn't change a single thing, so I won't."
"Good," I said, my voice coming out all wrong too. Although in a
different way. "Because it's okay if you don't want to be my friend. You
don't have to explain or retract that. I've lived with that knowledge for
almost two years now, and I'm fine with it." Aaron's gaze sharpened, but I
kept going, "We are not ten-year-olds, heading into the playground for
recess. We don't need to ask each other if we want to be friends. We don't
need to be. Especially not now that you will be my boss. We shouldn't even
be all that friendly. And that's fine. That's also why you're off the hook
where our deal is concerned. I'll manage on my own." As much as it was
the last thing I wanted to do. But that was what single, lying maids of honor
did—they attended weddings alone. "This is not you going back on your
word, Aaron. It's me releasing you from it."
We watched each other for a long moment, my heart thumping against
my chest while I told myself that what I was seeing in his eyes wasn't
regret. Him feeling anything like that did not make any sense. Unless he
regretted getting himself tangled in this whole mess. Now, that would be
something I could understand.
Before I could give that any more thought, the ringtone of his phone
blared through the office.
Aaron didn't take his eyes off me as he reached for it and answered,
"Blackford." A pause. We stared at each other, his profile notably
hardening. "Yes, all right. I'll have a look myself. Two minutes."
I watched him place the phone back on the desk, and then he
straightened to his full length.
He searched my face in a way that made my neck and ears flush. As if
the skin of my cheeks, nose, and chin hid the answers he was looking for.
"There is something you are not telling me," he finally said. And he
wasn't wrong. There was much I wasn't telling him. And it'd stay that way.
"But I'm patient."
Something flopped against my rib cage. I didn't understand what he
meant or why my chest felt tight all of a sudden.
"It's something important, and I need to go." He stepped in my
direction, both hands in his pockets and eyes still on me. "Get back to work,
Catalina. We will continue our conversation."
Not more than a heartbeat later, Aaron disappeared through the door.
Leaving me in his office, staring into empty space. Thinking how well he
had already fallen into his new role, doubting there was something we had
to continue talking about, and finding it really hard to believe that he had
anything to be patient for.
Basically because, where we were concerned, neither of us had anything
to wait for.