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 button-down 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.
