post–new life, today was the day:
My first day at my new job.
In some ways, things were easier. My new apartment was gorgeous. Of course, there was nothing but the best for Elliot Levy’s little sister. That was what his property manager had told me.
Downtown.
Views.
Spacious two bedrooms.
Check, check, check.
Saoirse danced into my bedroom without knocking. But then, we had an open-door policy: as long as our doors were open, either of us was welcome to dance on in. A throwback to our college days. We were picking up where we’d left off as roommates.
When I moved to Chicago three years ago, I never thought I’d be back here, living with Saoirse again. My feelings were still mixed about being back, but living with Saoirse? I wasn’t ambivalent in any way. She was my favorite human. I counted myself lucky she was willing to be my roommate one more time.
“Oh, you look good.” She circled her finger in the air. “Do a twirl for me, pretty.”
Another tradition. Before going out, we’d always hype each other up. The same thing applied for job interviews, dates, first days…
I twirled for her, needing the hype now more than ever, and she wolf-whistled.
“Nice, honey. You look ready to go out and make that bank. Titties are tittying nicely.”
I snorted a laugh and cupped my breasts. I’d gone somewhat conservative for my first day. Black cigarette pants, a white V-neck that barely showed a hint of cleavage but did mold around my ample chest, and an oversized, men’s style tweed blazer.
“Do I want my titties tittying at the office?”
She arched a brow. “Come on, Lisie. We both know your boobs are always working overtime. They have no choice but to be banging.”
She spoke the truth. My breasts entered a room before I did. As much as I tried to downplay it, there was no real way to disguise the roundness of my body. Not that I should have had to, but I’d need some time to get back to where I’d been before the GIF.
When I frowned at my reflection in my floor-length mirror, Saoirse stepped up behind me, wrapping her long arms around my shoulders, and pressed her face next to mine.
Saoirse Kelly was beautiful. Tall and lean, her blonde hair seemed to be permanently lit by the sun. She was the daughter of a California state senator and a Wyoming rancher. There were long, rich legacies on both sides of her family, but meeting her, you’d never know it. Saoirse was peppy and kind, with a sunshine personality that was more contagious than irritating. We’d met at eighteen in the dorms of CU-Boulder and had immediately clicked. Besides Elliot, she was the person I’d missed most while I’d lived in Chicago.
Having her back in my life full time was more of a relief than I’d thought it would be.
“It’s going to be great, Lise. I’ll be here when you get home with wine and pizza. I can’t wait to hear how impressed everyone was by you.”
I smooshed my cheek into hers. “You’re only saying that because you love me.”
“That’s true. But I also know you better than anyone, so my opinion should count the most.”
It should, she was right. But that wasn’t how it worked. A million compliments could be decimated by one insult.
I was still pretty decimated by the GIF. As much as I didn’t want to be. But that had nothing to do with today. Today was about leaving behind the drudgery of Richthink and a career path I’d mistakenly stumbled down and establishing myself as a professional writer.
Elise Levy
Copywriter
Andes, Inc.
My new title was embossed on my freshly made business cards. I wasn’t certain I needed them, but when Elliot had handed me a box containing five hundred, I’d gotten butterflies.
“Okay, I believe you.” I met her eyes in the mirror. “I think I’m ready to go.”
She smiled.
I smiled back.
Here it goes.
Andes, Inc. headquarters stood out from the high-rises around it. At eight stories, it had been built as an environmentalist’s dream. A green space and solar panels on the roof, light shelves, and energy efficient window coating, its carbon footprint was lower than any building its size in the state.
I’d read this on the website before my first interview.
I always overprepared myself. It was a Levy trait. Elliot didn’t meet anyone without compiling a dossier on them. Of course, he was CEO of a multibillion-dollar company and I was a simple copywriter—the butterflies were still there just thinking about my new title—so our scales of preparedness were slightly different, but the point remained the same.
I walked into the lobby. Bright light filled the open, four-story foyer surrounded by windows. I was early, so it wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. My heart was in my throat as I strode to the bank of glass-enclosed elevators. Nerves and excitement blended. I’d be fine once I got started. It was the unknown that had me on edge.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped in with two other women. Polite smiles were exchanged then they picked up their conversation on fall designs.
“Hold the elevator.” A gruff command just outside the sliding doors.
My hand shot out, hitting the open button. I looked up, my breath catching at the man in a fitted suit, crisp white shirt, no tie.
Weston Aldrich stepped into the elevator, his head down, tapping on his phone.
It had been years since I’d seen him.
“Eight,” he murmured, turning to face the front.
The women stopped talking, looking at me with expectation, but I was frozen in place. What could they possibly expect from me?
The elevator began to move, and Weston glanced at the panel of numbers closer to him than where I was, slightly behind his right shoulder. Had he wanted me to push his floor for him?
We ascended, and I studied Weston’s back. I’d forgotten how much space he took up. Not just from his immense height and the breadth of his shoulders but his presence. He seemed to stretch the air around him.
We stopped on three, and the two women hurried off. Weston reached forward, hitting the eight. The doors closed, leaving us alone. He moved over, almost beside me instead of in front, leaving plenty of space between us. Always considerate like that.
I stared at my shoes. If he noticed me, recognized me, he didn’t say a word. That was what I wanted. At least for today.
There was no hope I’d avoid Weston forever. This was his company, after all, and he was Elliot’s best friend. Even if I managed to get out of socializing with him with my brother, I would be in the same building with him every day.
Day one—we were already sharing an elevator.
We finally arrived on the seventh floor, and in my periphery, Weston raised his head. As I stepped forward, he glanced at me. I held my breath, bracing myself, but he didn’t say a word.
As soon as the opening was wide enough for me to fit, I was through the doors, charging forward like I knew exactly where I was going. Fortunately, I ended up at a reception desk, leaving Weston behind.
The receptionist for the creative floor, where I worked, showed me to my desk. There were no cubes at Andes. The entire space was open, some individual desks, some long tables meant for collaborating.
I spent the first part of my day reading through employee manuals, stopping every few minutes to meet new coworkers. I memorized a few of their names, but there were so many new faces, all young, fresh, outdoorsy, they blended together.
When I wasn’t reading, I was watching the inner workings of the office out of the corner of my eye. Richthink had been quiet, people staying huddled in their cubes most of the day. Here, people laughed freely. They stopped by each other’s desks, spoke, shared computer screens. It was early, but the striking differences made me optimistic about my future here.
Halfway through the day, just as my stomach started to growl, two people approached my desk. I looked up and blinked. A tall, lanky man stood beside a short, button-nosed woman I recognized as the receptionist from earlier. Together, they were strikingly similar to Lani and Brandon.
“Hey, newbie. We’re going down to the cafeteria for lunch. Want to join?” The man’s accent was half British, half Colorado.
The woman nodded, her curls bouncing. “Please come with us. I’m prepared to gossip about all our coworkers, if that’s incentive to you.”
With a laugh, I grabbed my purse from where I’d stashed it in my desk. I’d been braced to eat lunch on my own, but this was a much better offer. “That’s definitely incentive.”
In the elevator down to the first floor, I turned to the Lani and Brandon lookalikes. “I’m really sorry, but I have no idea what your names are. It’s just…I met so many people—”
The man turned toward the back wall, attempting to hide his snicker. Lani Two stuck out her hand. We shook.
“I’m Rebecca. That wanker is Simon. Lived in the States since he was seven and still clinging hard to that accent.”
Simon, in an Andes pullover and khaki pants, smoothed a hand down his chest. “Don’t spill all my secrets, cricket. We’re trying to charm the newbie so we’re not stuck with just each other at lunch every day.”
He winked at me in a way that let me know we were batting for the same team. I was beginning to suspect he and Rebecca really were the Colorado Lani and Brandon.
“Everyone calls me Lise, by the way. I dropped the E back in high school.”
Rebecca bobbed her head. “Efficient. I like it.”
The cafeteria, like the rest of Andes headquarters, was open and bright, with windows from floor to ceiling. I nabbed a veggie burger and sweet potato fries then found a seat with Rebecca and Simon.
Rebecca launched right in. “Okay, basics. I’m married to Sam, high school sweetheart. Simon is single and ready to mingle…with men, in case you were wondering. The best bathroom is on the third floor. The best snacks are in the fifth-floor common area—you just have to avoid Matilda, fifth’s receptionist. If she sees you, you’ll be stuck talking to her for a solid hour. Ummm…what else?”
She tapped her fingers against her temple. “Oh! You can get Andes clothes at cost from the company store.” She gestured to her fitted hoodie and utility skirt. “Before I worked here, I wouldn’t have been caught dead dressing like this, but in all honesty, it’s incredibly comfortable.”
Simon tore his roll apart and dipped a piece in his soup. “Yup. Everyone wears Andes around here. I know we all look like Lemmings, but I swear, once you’ve been here a little while, you’ll want to look like Outdoor Barbie.”
Rebecca agreed. “It’s something in the air.”
Weston had started Andes in college. He’d invented a filler for coats that was thin, more environmentally sound than down or cotton, yet trapped heat inside and kept cold out better than anything on the market. Over the last decade, Andes had expanded from coats to an outdoor lifestyle brand with standalone stores all over the world. Even the US winter Olympic team wore Andes. Weston had created something huge, all from an idea he’d had when he was twenty.
Aside from the coat he’d given me when I was still in high school—that I hadn’t worn—I’d never owned a piece of Andes clothing. I wasn’t planning to start now.
I tugged at the collar of my blazer. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to give up business casual. It’s too ingrained in me.”
Rebecca tipped her kombucha toward me. “I’ll be waiting with an ‘I told you so’ the first time you come to work in a puffer vest.”
My nose scrunched. “No. There is absolutely no way I’m adding puff to myself. That won’t be happening. I’ve already got enough going on.”
That made them both laugh, but it was true. I’d spent my adult years honing my style. I could do casual, but hoodies and sweats made me look like I’d spent all day on the couch and didn’t give a damn about myself. Then again, Andes hoodies were a lot more sleek than the ones I’d owned in the past…
I stopped my train of thought. Had I already been infected by the brainwashing air pumping in through the vents?
“Okay, okay. Enough about clothes.” Simon patted his mouth with his napkin. “Let’s discuss the real tea—you. Where are you from? Why are you so cute? What did you do before you joined us?”
Rebecca smacked his arm. “We’re supposed to be dishing about Andes then prying into Lise’s personal life. You’re going out of order.”
He rolled his eyes. “All right, fine. Here are the basics: most people are team players. If they’re not, they learn pretty quickly Weston Aldrich doesn’t play that game. There was this guy who joined the creative team last year, Dave from Canada—”
Rebecca groaned. “Oh, Dave from Canada, why did you have to give your homeland a bad name?”
“Right? Canadians are supposed to be friendly, then there was Dave. He was a squirrelly fellow, but we’re naive little lambs drinking the Andes water, so of course we trusted him. After a brainstorming session with the visual team, Dave trotted up to Weston’s office and presented the team’s ideas as his.”
I sucked in a breath. “Backstabber.”
Simon picked up his knife and did a Psycho imitation. “Total reh-reh-reh screaming-in-horror moment.”
“What did Weston do?” I asked.
Rebecca pressed on her freckled cheeks. “It was glorious.”
Simon nodded. “He brought Dave back to the creative floor, forced him to tell everyone about his brilliant ideas, then gave him the dressing down of a lifetime. I wish I’d recorded it. Dave never showed his Canadian face at the office again.”
Rebecca’s eyes darted to the side. “Speak of the devil.”
I turned—and there was nothing subtle about my movement. Weston Aldrich was walking through the cafeteria, an older woman on one side, a man around his age on the other. As far as I had seen, Weston and the man were the only people wearing suits in the building.
They were in conversation, but Weston paused each time he was greeted, giving nods or exchanging a few words.
“Do people like him?” I asked, my eyes still drinking in the man I first met when I was a little girl.
“He’s well respected,” Rebecca answered.
“It’s hard to really like a man that…untouchable, I guess is the word,” Simon added. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. He’s involved in the company on every level, and he’s approachable. It’s just that no one really knows him. Well, aside from his assistant, Renata.”
Weston suddenly turned his head, as if sensing we were talking about him even though he was too far away to hear our quiet conversation. His searching gaze found mine easily. His eyes scanned from the top of my head down to the table, where my hands were clasped, then returned to my eyes.
My heart was trapped in my throat. I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted to. Weston Aldrich had grown into a beautiful man, of that, there was no doubt. Then again, I’d thought he was beautiful when I was ten and he was fourteen and he sat with me in my family’s den where I’d hidden during my father’s Shiva.
His mouth moved, forming one word that made my insides revolt.
“Ellie.”
His nickname for me. The one that had caught on—
No. I wasn’t going to think about that now. Not with my new coworkers in my new life. I’d left that in the past.
I straightened in my seat, cutting off eye contact with Weston. Rebecca and Simon were both staring at me, their eyes wide.
“What was that?” Rebecca demanded in a gentle, joking way.
“So”—I tucked my hair behind one ear—“my brother and Weston were…well, are good friends.”
“Oh shite.” Simon scrubbed at his mouth. “Did I say anything bad? I don’t think I did, but—”
I reached across the table to pat his hand. “Stop, please. I barely know Weston. I promise, I’m not reporting back what you say about him. And no, you didn’t say anything bad.”
Simon and Rebecca exchanged looks, like they didn’t quite know what to believe.
Then Simon started mumbling, “Oh shite, oh shite, oh shite,” before perking up into a sunny smile. “Mr. Aldrich.”
Rebecca waved at the man standing right behind my left shoulder, his hand gripping the back of my chair.
“Hi, Mr. Aldrich.”
“Rebecca, Simon. Having a good lunch?” His voice. I’d forgotten what it had sounded like in person. When I heard him in the background of my phone calls with my brother, distance dulled some of the effect. In person, it was rich and smooth, like the finest morsel of dark chocolate.
Simon blushed as he nodded vigorously. “We are. Rebecca and I are getting to know our newest employee.”
“The kombucha is delicious,” Rebecca added, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink that matched Simon’s.
“That’s good to know.” He turned, moving beside me, effectively blocking my view of my lunch mates. I had to tip my head back to see him. He was staring down at me with an impassive expression. “How is your first day?”
These were the first words he’d spoken to me in three years. I remembered the last ones. “You’re making a mistake.” He’d been right, of course, but I’d never admit that to him.
Putting on my best professional smile, I erased the past from my mind. This man was my boss, Elliot’s friend—nothing more.
“My day has been really great so far. Simon and Rebecca are the best greeting committee ever.” I held up a wilted sweet potato fry. “And these are delicious. I’ll have to try the kombucha tomorrow.”
From behind Weston, Rebecca let out a little snort.
Weston remained unaffected. But that was him, calm and cool.
“We should get back,” I said. “I still have a lot to catch up on.”
Weston’s heavy stare grew pinched. He was so high up, my neck strained to keep looking at him. Lowering my chin, I grabbed my phone off the table. For a moment, no one moved, then I felt a subtle drag of Weston’s knuckles along my shoulder blade. I stiffened at the surprising contact, and his hand fell away in an instant.
“Have a good rest of your day,” he said curtly before turning and walking away.
I plastered on a big smile for Simon and Rebecca. “Are you guys ready to go?”
The two of them were my new favorites since they didn’t ask any further questions about Weston. Maybe it was obvious from our brief interaction we really didn’t have a relationship of any sort.
I really didn’t want to think about him anymore.
This was my new job, my new life.
Weston Aldrich was going to be a very, very distant part of it.
