Remembering Joy: The Joy Series, #1

By Jenni Moen

One mistake can shatter dreams and shape the future.  Alexis knows this firsthand.  Even though her memory of that day is hazy, she's spent the last ten years trying to put it behind her. 

Armed with the knowledge that her career will be her only legacy, Alexis works night and day to prove that she is more than just her last name.  It's not only that she doesn't have time for love. Sshe doesn't have the heart for it.  After all, there's no point in starting something that you can't finish. 

When she meets Adam, she's drawn to him in a way even she can't deny.  The film student is dark and brooding and strangely charming.  He's the perfect distraction from her mudane life, and as if fate is pushing them together, he seems to be around every corner.  It's enought to almost make her forget about her past and take a chance.

But Adam can recall every detail that she's forgotten.  What she doesn't remember, he can't forget.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twisted Hearts Publsihing
• Release date: Jun 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781498931038

Jenni Moen

Jenni Moen lives in her hometown in Oklahoma with her husband and three, crazy exuberant kids that have the potential to burn down the house at any moment.  When she's not chauffeuring kids, performing her mom duties as a short order cook, or vacuuming for her fastidious husband, she hammers away at her keyboard at her big girl job as a patent attorney.  While vodka and excercise have provided some relief from the daily grind, it is reading ... and now writing ... that are her true escapes.

Book preview

Part I

Chapter 1

Adam

I checked my phone for what felt like the hundredth time to see if I had missed a text from Burke. There were no new notifications. I audibly cursed his name and took another look around the bar that was steadily filling with the regular Friday happy hour crowd.

I couldn’t imagine why, out of the hundreds of bars in Manhattan, Burke had picked this one. The dark wood-paneled walls, soft lighting, and leather seating of The Library had all been selected to be reflective of the bar’s name. The steady stream of suits filing through the door matched the stuffy atmosphere. This wasn’t our kind of scene. In my t-shirt and jeans, I stuck out like a sore thumb. I would have been more at home at a sports bar or even, possibly, a biker bar than I was in this joint. I cursed a second time at my own stupidity for agreeing to meet him here.

After taking a long pull on the beer in front of me, I looked across the bar. And that’s when I saw her. It had been almost 10 years. My heart fell a little at the thought that 10 years had actually passed. I’d always known that she was here, but I’d never sought her out. It was practically mandatory that I keep my distance.

She’d lost the bubbly cheerleader look that had worked for her all through high school. She was stunning now. Her blonde hair was shorter and sleeker, and just barely brushed her shoulders. She was thinner than I remembered, but not gaunt. Her high cheekbones accented the deep blue eyes that had lost their childish sparkle.

Despite these less than subtle changes, I recognized her immediately. Hers was a face I would know anywhere and a face I would never forget.

I must have been holding my breath while I checked her out. I swallowed the drink that now tasted warm and bitter. As I released my breath, my heart raced, and I forced myself to take a series of measured breaths. I looked down at my phone again for a much needed distraction and steadied my heart rate. I told myself that I didn’t have any reason to worry. She wouldn’t recognize me. It would be an interesting theory to test.

I motioned the bartender over. The beer in front of me had suddenly lost its appeal. Tonight called for something a little stronger.

Without being obvious, I watched her for at least 30 more minutes while I finished my first and then my second whiskey, straight.

She was with two friends: a girl and a guy. They were smiling and laughing at something she had said. I couldn’t quite make it out, even though I was doing a pretty good job tuning out all the douchebags around me. She seemed to be retelling a story from work. From her friends’ reactions, I surmised that her day had been more interesting than mine.

The two friends were obviously together. They hung all over each other. At the realization that she was the third wheel, I couldn’t stop a sly smile from spreading across my face. She had a sexual energy about her, and her periodic scan of the room told me that she was looking for something or someone. As if, maybe, she wasn’t planning on going home alone tonight.

Finally, my phone buzzed in my hand as the text I had been anticipating came through.

Hung up at work. Catch you tomorrow.

I shook my head. Normally, I would have been irritated at Burke for leaving me stranded in a place like this, but this evening was shaping up to be something entirely different from what I had expected. I was glad he wasn’t coming. I wasn’t going to be alone for long.

She was about to get my worst. And, she deserved every bit of it.

---

Alexis

I hated this bar. It didn’t matter that we seemed to come here all the time or that it was a short walk from our office. The conversations around me were tedious. Professional blowhards talked over one another, trying to best everyone around them. I was good at my job, and it was really all that I had going for me. But, after spending the last 12 hours trying to prove that I was something more than just my last name, I was tired of the charade. I had very little free time, and I really didn’t care to waste it on pompous assholes. Unfortunately, that’s exactly where I was in my life, and I rarely left the Financial District.

My work husband had coerced me into coming tonight. It was a label that I bestowed on Ethan when we were still in law school ... back before there was real work to be done. The term was correct in that we seemed to spend all of our time together. It was also correct in that I would do anything for him. However, it was a bit of a misnomer since – aside from one tequila-laced night back in school – our relationship was completely and totally platonic. That one anomaly had been a mistake that I would not repeat.

Tonight, I was playing wingman. Or wingwoman, as it would seem. The plan had been to meet up with a new girl that he had met earlier at the Starbucks in our building. Ethan’s taste in women never varied. He liked them tall and leggy, and well endowed.

Meghan seemed tolerable even if not very bright. Forty-five minutes into their first official date, she was hanging all over him. He couldn’t have gotten more attention from a woman if he’d paid for it. In fact, I was reasonably sure that my position as wingman had successfully been fulfilled and that I would soon be released from my duties.

I had just polished off my second Belvedere and soda, and was considering making a stealth exit when I noticed a guy across the bar. He didn’t fit in with the rest of the clientele. His simple black t-shirt contrasted sharply with all the button-down oxfords in the room. His longer brown hair rested just past his ears. It was tousled as if he had just come in out of the wind ... or possibly a photo shoot ... or maybe someone’s bed. A day’s worth of beard growth didn’t hide the strong, masculine jaw line beneath.

A strong hand curled around his glass and brought it to his lips just as his eyes met mine.

I nudged Ethan in his side and raised my eyebrows suggestively. Other side of the bar. One o’clock, I said.

Ethan glanced in the guy’s direction and then rolled his eyes at me. Geez, Alexis. Really? That guy?

Yes. That guy, I almost whispered.

Look around you, A-lister. There are a hundred guys in here to choose from and you pick him? You can’t possibly have anything in common with him, he said.

I looked him dead in the eye and said, That’s the point, dear husband o’ mine. That is exactly the point.

You are on a path of self-destruction, he said, shaking his head.

Returning my gaze to my mark, I said, Don’t be silly, Ethan. This is going to be fun.

And a little fun was all I was looking for. After all, I had no desire to meet someone who I actually had something in common with. I didn’t want someone who would really want to get to know me. I was damaged goods, and I’d learned the hard way that once they learned the truth I wasn’t worth sticking around for.

---

_________________________

---

I looked skyward. Dark clouds were rolling across the oppressive grey sky from east to west. Until just a few minutes ago, it had been a beautiful and unusually warm day after a very cold spring, but the weather in northern Texas could be very unpredictable. The rumble of thunder signaled that the storm was closing in.

I leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. I was driving too fast, but then another half dozen raindrops smattered against my windshield. Another clap of thunder was so close that my car seemed to shake. I tapped the brake. My foot slipped and hit the gas pedal. Hard. The engine revved, and the little car lurched forward and jumped the curb.

I woke up with a gasp, clutching the sheets around me. The nightmare was back. It was always the same though it had been two years since I had woken up in this state of terror. Until this moment, I thought I had finally freed myself from it. Apparently, I was wrong.

I was still white-knuckling the sheets when I stuck my arm out and patted the bed beside me. The realization that I was alone caused an audible sigh of relief to escape. I wasn’t sure where I was, but there was still a chance that I could sneak out of here. Thank God, I muttered to myself.

I put my feet on the floor and tried to get my bearings. My head was pounding, and my heart was still racing. Rubbing my temples, I slowly stood and turned to begin the search for my clothing. It had to be around here somewhere.

I think I should be the one thanking God, a deep voice said.

Damn. I was definitely not alone. I surveyed the room for the source of the voice. A man was casually leaning against an open doorway. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and one bare foot resting on top of the other. He wore an amused expression. While I could have stared at the smirking curve of his lips all day, it was the eyes that drew me in. They were dark pools that seemed solemn, if a bit sinister.

His hair just barely hung over his eyes, and he was sporting at least two days’ worth of beard growth. His well-worn jeans hung from his hips in an exceptionally sexy way. The frayed ends of the pant legs just dragged the ground and looked like he had walked miles in them. His black ‘NSFW’ t-shirt did nothing to hide the fact that he clearly spent his free time in the gym or, possibly, cage fighting.

The tattoos sprinkling his arms had me leaning toward the cage fighting theory. There were at least two that I could see. The first was a thin rope-like tattoo that wrapped around his left wrist. The second was on his right bicep, and it just barely peeked out of the bottom of his sleeve. I couldn’t help but wonder if there were more under that shirt. And then I mentally slapped myself because I should probably already know the answer to that question. I also made a mental note to look up ‘NSFW’ on urbandictionary.com.

The smirk on his face told me that I was missing something.

He had completely distracted me from the task at hand. I was missing my clothes and was standing stark naked in front of him.

My clothes? I asked with as much nonchalance as I could muster. Standing in front of this complete stranger in nothing but my birthday suit was completely disconcerting, but for some reason I didn’t want him to feel my panic.

His smirk turned into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He said nothing and instead pointed to a chair across the room. My folded clothes were neatly stacked on the seat. My purse leaned up against the side of the chair. If I wanted my stuff, I was going to have to walk directly in front of him.

Jeopardizing my theme of nonchalance, I reached over and pulled the sheet off of the bed and wrapped it around me. I waltzed by him with my head held high and picked up my clothes. My lace bra was on the top of the stack. I found it strange that this severe looking stranger had taken the time to make such a tidy little pile of my unmentionables.

His silent, but watchful, stare was unnerving. Again, it was the eyes. I almost needed to look away as soon as his met mine.

As an act of mercy, he finally shifted on his feet. I made coffee. But I think you might be better off with a Gatorade. There’s a new toothbrush in there if you need it, he said, pointing toward an open doorway to my left. Then he turned on his heel and was gone.

It was only after he left the room that it dawned on me that he wasn’t trying to put the moves on me this morning. Most men would have definitely been going for a Round 2. I imagined that I probably looked horrendous. I felt horrendous.

It was also not lost on me that I couldn’t remember his name. I was in this man’s house, apartment ... I had no idea where I was ... and I had no idea what to call him. I needed to redeem myself by figuring out his name before I went face-to-face with him again. His wallet had to be around here somewhere. When I didn’t find it on the dresser, I headed for the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Gah. My eyes were glassy, and my usually stick-straight hair was flying all different directions. Definitely horrendous. As I slipped my shirt over my head, I waited for last-night’s-bar-smell to hit me and was surprised when it didn’t. Strangely my clothes still smelled like Bounce dryer sheets.

I mentally berated myself. How much did I have to drink last night? I couldn’t remember having more than just a couple of cocktails, but clearly I had overdone it. I had no recollection of anything that had taken place in this apartment. You are turning into a real hot mess, I told my reflection in the mirror.

However, it turned out that I was a lucky hot mess because his wallet and cell phone were lying in a basket on the bathroom counter. I quickly rifled through the wallet and discovered a New York driver’s license. I scanned it briefly and made a mental note of his name, Adam Michael Hill. I patted myself on the back. Nancy Drew had nothing on me. Then I stuffed the license back in the wallet.

I should have simply put his personal effects back where I found them, but something else caught my attention. I pulled out a piece of paper that was similar to one that I had seen a million times in my dad’s wallet: a hunting and fishing license that was good for a lifetime, but only in the great state of Texas. Behind it was a photo of a little girl who was probably about 5 or 6. Her long blonde hair was pulled back with a headband. She stood among shreds of wrapping paper, and her eyes gleamed with excitement at a small bicycle with a bow on the handlebars. The worn edges of the photo told me that must have been taken years ago.

For some reason, the picture tugged at my heart. It was her eyes that grabbed me. They were identical in shape and color to the eyes that had been staring at me from the doorway just a few minutes before. Except, whereas his eyes were dark and brooding, hers were full of happiness and the innocence that came with youth. Feeling like I had trespassed somewhere I shouldn’t, I guiltily tucked it all back inside. I tossed the wallet back in the basket and opened a drawer to look for the toothbrush.

Chapter 2

Adam

I leaned forward against the kitchen counter and pressed both hands into its granite surface. My eyes bored into the speckled pattern as if I would find the answers there.

What was I doing with this woman? How could someone who elicited such fury in me also make me want her so much? If I kept this up, it wouldn’t end well.

Then again, I think that might be exactly what I wanted.

---

Alexis

I was fully clothed and feeling more myself. My head still hurt, but my teeth were shining. And I had a goal now. It was to get the hell out of here as fast as possible. I prepared myself for the walk of shame through his apartment. I garnered as much false confidence as I could muster. Then, with my heels in my hand and my purse slung over my shoulder, I waltzed out of the bedroom.

I entered a big, open living area. Large windows covered the main wall and offered a fantastic view of the city. I leaned on a table and took a look around while I slid my shoes on my feet. The place was really quite spectacular for a New York City apartment. It wasn’t huge by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn’t lacking in space either.

And it was nice. Really nice, actually. I found the space unexplainably comforting. Adam certainly wasn’t the starving artist ... or cage fighter ... that I had guessed him to be. The decor was simple, but elegant. It wasn’t overly modern, but it also had a cool vibe to it. Cool as it was though, it definitely didn’t match the tattooed man in black who had been leering at me earlier.

Then again, what did I know? I knew nothing about him. Maybe he had money to match his sophisticated digs. You certainly couldn’t judge a book by its cover. I was proof of that.

My heels clicked on the polished concrete floor as I made my way through the living room and into the kitchen. My host was facing the counter in front of a coffee maker that was emitting an aroma sent straight from heaven. At first, I thought he was reading something, but there was nothing on the counter in front of him. His shoulders were raised and tense.

My shoes had given my entrance away, and he moved his head from one side to the other. Something in his neck cracked, and it occurred to me that he might need a good chiropractor. A smile escaped as I wondered if our escapades from the night before had left him needing an adjustment.

Finally, he shrugged his shoulders back and turned toward me expectantly with a cup of coffee in one hand and a Gatorade in the other. The coffee mug said, ‘I brake for squirrels.’ For some reason, I found this hilarious, and a giggle slipped out. It’s possible that it was the tension in the room that made me laugh, but I did like the mug.

I moved toward him and took the Gatorade even though it was the coffee that was calling my name. I wanted to ask for a switcheroo and take that mug to go, but I didn’t want to delay my exit. The pounding in my head told me that the Gatorade was probably the better choice anyway. Besides, while I wasn’t entirely sure of what corner I would find myself on when I walked out of this building, I was certain that I could find a Starbucks to fulfill my caffeine needs.

I took the bottle from him, careful not to touch his hand. He was still just looking ... or possibly leering at me, and neither one of us had yet to say anything. Suddenly, the silence seemed to loom over us. I fought the urge to run my hands through my hair. I didn’t want to appear as nervous as I suddenly felt.

We were something else. So far, our interactions this morning had mostly involved staring at one another and engaging in a whole lot of inner dialogue. At least, there was a whole lot of inner dialogue on my part. I had no idea what, if anything, was going on in his head.

The fact that I also had no idea of what had gone on the night before just made it doubly awkward. I was reasonably sure, however, that it hadn’t involved any staring or inner dialogue. My guess was that it had involved a lot of heavy breathing. I was more than a little sorry that I couldn’t remember it.

With that thought, it was definitely time to get out of here. Thanks for the Gatorade, but I’ve really got to get going, I said. I need to get into the office.

It’s Saturday, you know, he stated rather than asked. What is it that you do?

His eyes were still dark empty wells. I honestly couldn’t tell if he really cared what my answer would be, but it didn’t seem like he was just being polite either. I’m a junior associate ... a very junior associate ... at Harper, Conley, and Lowe.

While this information would have impressed the pants off most of my male suitors, it had no effect whatsoever on my current audience. He looked at me blankly. So you’re a lawyer, he said. How fun. The sarcasm dripped off of his tongue.

My temper flared, and my inner dialogue set off on a diatribe. Why was I so mad? He knew nothing about me. As far as I could tell, we hadn’t spoken more than 50 words to each other. And yet he was right. What I did day in and day out was not fun. It gave me purpose though. It’s a means to an end, I answered coolly.

What end? he replied with no emotion whatsoever.

Mine.

If he only knew, that one word provided so much insight. I needed to get out of here. His stare was making me more and more uncomfortable ... and more than a little furious, too. He hadn’t offered me breakfast. He hadn’t really even offered me a chair so I could drink my Gatorade. He was making no attempt whatsoever to stall my exit.

I slung my bag back over my arm and backed out of the kitchen. I turned in the direction that felt like should be the front door. Well, thanks, I said over my shoulder. There was no warmth in my voice this time.

I strode purposefully toward the door. He followed behind me, but kept plenty of distance between us. There would be no awkward kiss good-bye. That was something we could both agree on.

I opened the door with no intention of turning back. However, his words, I’ll see you around, Allie, stopped me in my tracks. I stared ahead with my feet rooted to the floor and my hand frozen on the door knob.

I had stopped introducing myself as Allie years ago. Only one person still got away with calling me by my childhood nickname, and he certainly didn’t give me the heart palpitations or temperature spikes that Mr. Hill was giving me.

My name is Alexis, I said without turning around. My urge to flee was suddenly more than just a desire to preserve a little dignity.

Sorry. That’s what you told me to call you, I heard him say as I pulled the door shut behind me.

Interesting. Why would I tell him to call me ‘Allie’? I was pretty sure that girl didn’t even exist any more.

---

_________________________

---

It was Saturday so I wasn’t dressed in typical work attire. Even though I had made it into the office, I was wearing running capris and my favorite Columbia Law sweatshirt. I was going to make it in to the gym today no matter what. I had a lot of vodka and negative energy to sweat out. But, at the moment, I had my running shoes kicked up on Ethan’s desk.

So what the hell happened to you last night, he asked. One minute you were there, and the next minute you and Night Rider were staggering out the door without so much as a goodbye.

Ugh. I don’t know, I grunted. We ended up at his place. It was crazy nice, by the way.

Him or his place? Ethan said while typing away on his computer.

The place. It was in Murray Hill. Isn’t that weird? And it seemed familiar for some reason. He was weird, too, though. Hey, what does ‘NSFW’ mean?

Not suitable for work, why? he asked, looking up.

He was wearing a shirt this morning that said that.

Figures, Ethan said. I told you last night that I didn’t like him. There’s just something about him. I wasn’t comfortable with you leaving with him.

You didn’t stop me, I said. Besides you never like anyone I hook up with.

Because your taste in men sucks, he said. And your track record isn’t that great.

My track record is exactly how I want it. And it’s not like I’ll ever see Adam again anyway, I retorted.

He looked me straight in the eye. Adam, huh? Well, I hope you’re right because he’s trouble.

I was used to Ethan chastising me for my sexcapades, but this was harsher than usual. His motivation seemed different. He clearly wanted to protect me from this guy that he didn’t trust, but he also probably wanted to protect me from myself. It was giving me the warm fuzzies.

He glanced down at the papers on his desk. When he looked up, his expression was more playful. He was ready to change the subject, and I was relieved. What about Jay? You said he was all right. He met my eyes, And, frankly, I’m sick of listening to him go on and on about how hot and awesome you are.

I laughed. Jay was one of Ethan’s game-watching, six-pack-toting law school buddies. It was never going to happen. You thought I was hot and awesome once, too, I said, tossing my hair playfully over my shoulder. I wanted to distract him.

Yeah, and when you’re ready, I’m happy to go at it again, he quipped. Even if you are flat-chested.

"I am not flat-chested, and you know it, I said, pretending to be offended. Besides, Jay has a better chance."

Ouch, he said. I knew he didn’t mean it though. He wasn’t wounded by my rebuff. This was our relationship. We were both comfortable with it.

Speaking of flat-chested, how was Meghan? I chided him. "She seems uber smart."

She’s not going to discover any new principle of science, that’s for sure, Ethan sighed. But we are going out again tonight.

I looked at him like he had a hole in his head. There is this thing, Alexis. It’s called a ‘second date,’ he said. "You should try it some time ... But not with Mr. NSFW."

---

_________________________

---

After spending the entire afternoon writing a brief, I gave it up and headed to the gym around the corner from my office. It was late evening, and the sun was setting. People all over the city were geared up for another night out on the town. It didn’t matter to me that it was Saturday. All I wanted to do was work up a sweat and then have a quiet evening with a good smutty book.

I stretched for a few minutes and then selected from the long line of unoccupied treadmills. I spent several minutes messing with my iPod until I found a playlist with just the right amount of angst to match my mood. I wasn’t sure why I was in such a mood. Though it probably had something to do with the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about Adam.

I had met someone new. Most women my age would be engaging in mental acrobatics, conjuring up fairytale endings. In a matter of minutes, they would have themselves wearing a big white dress and uttering dreamy I do’s. In a matter of hours, they would be pushing a baby stroller in front of a white picket fence. Not me. I knew better. The fairytale ending wasn’t in the cards for me. I wouldn’t even let myself go there. But still I had been distracted all day by my curious encounter with NSFW. I replayed, over and over, his deep voice saying, ‘Allie.’ It wasn’t dreamy. It was unnerving. There was no way that I’d told him to call me that. I hadn’t introduced myself as Allie in almost 10 years.

I ramped up the speed on the treadmill to a challenging pace and prepared to sweat. My eyes scanned the room for something or someone interesting to watch. Even at times like this when it wasn’t particularly busy, the gym was never short of entertainment.

It wasn’t long before I found what I was looking for. A large, older man in a canary yellow wrestling singlet was doing thrusters in the middle of the room. I couldn’t contain my chuckle. Who the hell wears a singlet to the gym? This 60-year-old man was certainly not one who could pull it off. I chuckled again as Fat man in a little suit buzzed through my head.

I was so distracted by the Big Bird in the middle of the room that I almost didn’t notice Adam over by the pull-up bar in the corner. But there he was in all his glory.

He had on long, black athletic shorts that hung on his hips in the same sexy way that his jeans had earlier that morning. He had exchanged his black t-shirt for a grey one. In the middle of it was a red and yellow piñata shaped like a donkey. And underneath the donkey, it said ‘I’d hit that.’ I stifled a smile.

Adam was hot. It was ridiculous, really. As I watched him do pull-ups, I could feel my cheeks flush. What the hell was happening to me? I was turning into a simpering girl, like the ones that I always made fun of for chasing Ethan.

More importantly, why was Adam at my gym? I was sure that I had never seen him here before. I would have noticed him. Besides, there had to be a dozen gyms closer to his apartment than this one.

I looked down at the display on the treadmill. Damn. I was only 17 minutes into what I had hoped would be a 45-minute run. It didn’t matter. I had to get out of here, preferably without Adam noticing me. I hit the emergency stop button, and I bolted out of the gym without another thought. As I pushed through the revolving door, I was sure that I had successfully evaded his attention. I stopped for a minute on the sidewalk to catch my breath. My heart was racing. Unfortunately, I knew it was not from the run on the treadmill.

For the second time in one day, I found myself running away from him. While I was quite adept at walking away from men, running away was an entirely different animal.

Chapter 3

Adam

It hadn’t taken much to track her down since she had so freely spilled the not-so-small detail of where she worked. I told myself that it was almost as if she wanted me to find her. That she was asking for it.

So for the fourth time this week, I found myself perched on a stool in the coffee shop at the bottom of her office building. Waiting and watching. Watching and waiting. As if I didn’t have better things to do than stalk a girl. A girl who I was pretty sure I wouldn’t even be able to speak to without tearing off her head and shitting down her neck.

I was tucked in the corner of the room behind a display of insulated cups. So I wasn’t really worried about being spotted. However, I had an unobstructed view of the entrance to the shop. I was only two Americanos into my stake-out when she finally strolled in. As she approached, a woman met her from the opposite direction. She looked vaguely familiar to me, but I wasn’t sure why. Alexis! the friend gushed as she leaned in and air-kissed Alexis on each cheek. I groaned inwardly.

In their complementary tweed suits and red-soled heels, the two reeked of more money and self-importance than the Kardashian sisters. Ms. Grey Tweed glided right past the guy leaning into the refrigerated case for a bottle of water and threw her expensive bag on the counter. She barked out an order to the Barista behind the counter. Grande in a Venti cup, half soy milk, half nonfat milk, extra hot, three shots with one-and-a-half pumps of sugarfree vanilla. Her coffee order included more adjectives than a Charles Dickens novel. There was no please or thank you at the end.

I couldn’t hear Alexis’ order, but it also was long enough to be mistaken for a novella. She never cracked a smile at the poor sap behind the counter. I didn’t envy his job. In this building, he probably dealt with people just like them all day long.

As she pulled her credit card from her equally expensive purse, I decided that she’d fooled me the other night in the bar. Her hair may be shorter and her laugh a little more worn, but Alexis Harper hadn’t changed at all. She was still the horrible little rich bitch I’d known in high school. Some things never change.

---

Alexis

It was after seven o’clock when I left the office on Wednesday evening. I pushed my way through the doors of the building and out onto the sidewalk. I’d intended to go to the gym, but after one meeting after another all day long, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was take my weary body home, open a bottle of wine, and catch an episode or two of the Real Housewives.

Running into Brittany Goddard at Starbucks was definitely the lowest point of my day. I hadn’t seen her since we graduated from high school. I’d heard she was here, but I’d never looked her up. She brought back memories that I didn’t really want to think about. At one time, we’d probably been so similar that we could’ve been mistaken for one another. Now I felt like we were apples and oranges.

I looked down at my Chanel suit that was so similar to Brittany’s and shuddered. There had to be at least a dozen groups in Manhattan dedicated to providing