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Chapter one

Noel

T he sun’s warmth pouring in through the bay window is my saving grace this afternoon. A beautiful day complete with a picturesque scattering of clouds on a light blue sky serve as a direct contradiction to the temperature in my office. The air conditioning stays on 67 degrees to combat the oppressive heat of southern Alabama. It's wonderfully inviting when first entering the building; however, my summer wardrobe wasn’t chosen for the temperatures of springtime shade.

The frigid office, also known as JV Marketing Firm, is a second home to me. I’ve worked here since graduating from South Alabama. Before that, most of my intern hours in college were also spent in this office. My boss, Joe Vendelini, is a close friend of my parents. He practically promised me a future job when he found out I was the editor of my high school yearbook staff during a family bar-b-que. In fact, the only intern hours I acquired away from this office were in Joe’s rival firm, per his request.

For the most part, I enjoy working here. It wasn’t my top career choice, but it was a good compromise between my artistic ambitions and Nate’s career. I do get to create art in some capacity. Even if it isn’t what my younger self had originally envisioned.

Sitting back from my laptop, I look over at the picture of Nate that’s framed on my desk. His blue-green eyes staring back at me with that playful smile on his handsome face transport me back to the beginning.

"Why do you need a picture of me, babe?" He asks while looking up at me through his heart-stopping, long lashes. He’s still sitting on the bench we had just been sharing to eat our lunch.

I take him in for a moment before answering. He is truly a sight to see at 6’2” with dirty blonde hair and suntanned skin, the definition of homegrown. I still have to pinch myself to believe he’s really mine.

"I want to remember everything about this trip, especially the way you keep looking at me," I answer him honestly.

"Mrs. Williams, I will look at you this way for the rest of my life," he says, melting my insides.

I hold my phone up to take the picture then sit back down on the bench beside him. He pulls me closer by wrapping his arm around my waist.

Leaning down to kiss me just below my ear, he whispers, "I’ve seen enough of Italy. I’d like to be buried inside my wife for the rest of the day. Let’s go."

A knock on the door pulls me back to reality, far away from my honeymoon and even farther away from the beautiful man who was my husband .

“Yes?” I call out.

The door opens, and Joey steps inside. “Hey, Noel, I just got off the phone with a woman named Claire Morris representing a logistics company called Velocity. She won’t be able to attend the meeting she scheduled with you, but the owner is on his way here.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say with a smile.

“Cool. Listen, everyone is really hoping to see you this Sunday,” he says expectantly.

My smile falters, and I look down at my wedding ring. “I’m going to come by. I’m looking forward to it,” I say, fixing my smile and looking back up at him.

“Great!” He leaves my office but doesn’t close the door.

The dread of going to family functions without Nate is something I need to get over because the last thing I want is to let everyone down. Now that I’ve been back to work for a couple of weeks, invitations for outings and gatherings have begun to flow my way. Going back to work was like sending a flare into the sky letting everyone know I was officially rejoining the world—even if unintentional.

Six months ago my husband died in a single-car accident coming home late on icy roads. His Porsche collided with a tree in such a way that it exploded on impact. His body had to be identified through dental records because he had been so badly burned.

It took months of therapy to work through not only the grief of losing him and the trauma around how he died but also the acceptance that it had truly been him. Not being able to see him for myself left my mind open to the possibility of conspiracy theories. As an investment broker, he used to joke that he would have to fake his own death one day to save himself from angry clients. People can be irrational when it comes to money. We actually received a few threats about a month before he died, so the theory wasn’t completely unrealistic.

Hope that his death had been a ploy clung to me like a coat in the coldest of winters. After those first few weeks of outright denial, I tore through his office files at home and his firm looking for anything that would prove he could still be alive. Proof that he had faked his accident and would come back for me with new names on passports granting us access to an endless tour of the world. My father even helped me look through some of the files and documents I couldn’t make sense of, but there was nothing to find.

According to my therapist, I was experiencing very strong denial and anger phases of grief. Time eventually helped me accept he was truly gone. Now, I’m learning the cold reality of death is that everything comes down to numbers in a bank account. Since finance was Nate’s area of expertise, I didn’t do much with any of it while he was alive. His dad, Grant, has been a saint for helping me handle some of the more complicated aspects of our portfolio the past few months.

“Here we are,” Julie, our receptionist, says just before appearing in my open doorway.

Surprised by the lack of her usual phone call that a client is waiting, I jump up quickly to set the tone for a great first impression. She steps to the side allowing the owner of Velocity Logistics, Inc. to enter my office. As she does, golden brown eyes meet mine. The world shifts beneath my feet. The professional greeting that was poised and ready dies on my lips as my mouth goes dry.

“Declan?” I gasp .

His deliberate smirk gives me the heart-stopping reminder of how cute his dimples were. Only, I wouldn’t use the word 'cute' to describe anything about the captivating man standing before me.

“Noel,” his deep, husky voice states my name without the slightest hint of surprise.

Realizing he knew exactly what he was walking into, I swallow my shock and look away from him to salvage my composure.

“Thank you, Julie,” I say dismissing her from camping out in the hallway as she stares at our newest client’s backside. She quickly closes the door when she realizes she’s been caught.

I look away from the closed door to make eye contact with the man who shattered my world when I was sixteen. Boyish features from the past seem to have all been replaced by chiseled edges. His arms and shoulders are huge; there’s no denying he still makes time for the gym. His sharp jawline is shaded by dark stubble whereas it used to be softened by dimples from the smile he always wore. The biggest change, though, is his eyes. They used to be carefree and innocent, but something darker stares back at me today.

He clears his throat and cocks an eyebrow at me for openly staring at him.

Quickly trying to recover, I extend my hand. “It's been a long time. How have you been?”

He takes a step toward me to shake my hand, enveloping me in his sweet, woodsy cologne. “It wasn’t that long ago, sunshine.”

Heat spreads across my face. I try to ignore the racing of my heart at his use of that nickname. I release my grip on his hand desperately needing to put some space between us, but he gives mine a harder squeeze before letting me go .

Clearing my throat and taking a deep breath, I try to get the meeting back on track. “Thank you for meeting with me today. Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks.”

He settles into a chair looking around my office, stopping at the pictures on my desk. Most of them are Nate and me.

I take the chair opposite of his the way I always do with my clients. I try to picture anyone else in his place to get through this. Ironically, I used to imagine a moment like this where he would see exactly what he missed out on. In my imagination, I would be the one who’d play it cool. However, I feel exposed under his stare. I'm not at all as unaffected by him as I had hoped I’d be after all this time.

Buying time to get myself into business mode, I open my notebook to a clean sheet of paper and click my pen.

“So, Declan, tell me about your company,” I say as I follow his line of sight to a picture of Nate and me at a restaurant.

Instead of answering me, he looks at the picture for a few more seconds. When he directs his attention back to me, he simply studies me with an air of leisure. He’s sitting in my chair as though this is his office—leaned back and at ease with his legs spread open. His dark grey t-shirt pulled tight across his broad chest that rises and falls slowly with unbothered breaths. Confident and comfortable as though seeing me is a regular occurrence, just another clue that he knew exactly who he would be meeting with today.

He must read the discomfort on my face as he allows the silent stare-down to go on. An amused smile shows off both of his dimples as he rubs the stubble on his face. My stomach's somersault leaves a deep ache behind.

He clears his throat but keeps a hint of that mischievous smile. He nods toward the pictures while his dark eyes search mine. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I acknowledge but decide not to give him any details beyond what he can see for himself around my office. I smile politely and wait for him to answer the question I’m fairly certain I asked.

He looks out the large window that is now adding too much heat to my office then back at me.

“Velocity Logistics is servicing companies statewide and is close to capacity as is. I’m one or two large accounts away from needing to expand, so my marketing needs are just that. I need to level up," He begins.

“So, it's a well-established logistics company that needs a facelift to attract national corporations.” I say as I take notes.

When I finish writing, I look up to let him know I’m ready for him to continue but find that he is studying me. Again. He doesn’t speak again, just holds my gaze until I look away.

Deciding we need a barrier to get out of this trance, I move to the chair behind my desk as the silence continues. I feel him watching me but keep my eyes trained on my notes.

He takes the hint and finally breaks the silence. “My letterhead is as old as the company itself. Creatively, you have freedom to do what needs to be done other than changing the name. I’m open to overhauling everything from the graphics and website to the sign in the parking lot.”

“A fresh start?” I clarify.

“That’s the idea.”

I can’t help but smile to myself as I look over my notes. I love a project like this. Trying to tweak someone else’s work feels like work. But this? This is a blank canvas. Clients that grant the freedom to start from scratch allow me to live out my artistic dreams.

“I’d like to see what you already have. Do you have a file your secretary could send me?”

“You’ll receive it today,” he says without hesitation.

“Also, I’d like to visit the main office. Do you prefer an appointment?”

“I’ll have Claire set something up when she sends the file.”

“Perfect.” Hopefully Claire will also be my main point of contact after today. “Well, do you have any questions?”

“No questions. Here’s my information.”

He stands and reaches into his jeans’ pocket while taking a step toward my desk. His eyes are locked on mine as he leans over slightly to put his business card on my desk, closer to my side. Now that he’s in my space, I can see the dare in them. He looks down at my mouth then back up.

His tongue caresses his lips before he says, “See you soon.”

Once he is out of sight, I exhale the breath I’d been holding since he leaned over my desk. Nerves carry me straight to the window to watch him leave. I close the blinds to prevent him from catching me as he gets into a blacked out F250.

Jesus Christ, what am I going to do?

A beep alerts me to a message on my laptop. It’s probably from Joe asking me how the meeting went. I’m sure he is curious about why it would be over so quickly. Initial meetings usually last at least an hour.

Joe Vendelini: How’d it go?

Noel Williams: Went great! Blank canvas project!

Joe Vendelini: Thatta girl!

My email dings. It's from Claire Morris at Velocity Logistics. That was fast.

TO: [email protected] FROM: [email protected] SUBJECT: Marketing Information DATE: July 14, 2024

Mrs. Williams, Here are the files for all graphics the company currently uses. I’ve also created login credentials for you to access our website in order to make updates.

Username: JVMarketing Password: password

Mr. Adams would like to schedule a follow up meeting with you at our main office this Friday at 8:00AM. Please let me know if this is agreeable.

Claire Morris

I quickly open the files and can already see why he wants an overhaul. The designs are all very basic and created using outdated software. It’s going to be easy to impress. Not that I want to impress Declan, but Joe will be thrilled to hear from a happy client. I respond to Claire letting her know I will be able to attend the meeting requested and set to work brainstorming ideas .

The afternoon is consumed by playing around with graphics, and it’s time to shut down for the day in what feels like no time at all. I’m not sure I would’ve even noticed the time if not for everyone walking by my door to leave. Taking my time to gather my things, I end up being one of the last ones out.

Evenings are still the toughest part of my day. I used to rush home to cook elaborate meals or get dressed for nights out. Nate and I both loved trying new restaurants in town and going out with our friends. Now, I go home to a large, empty house with no one to cook for and no plans to pass the time. It’s hard enough to miss Nate, but the loneliness of a quiet, empty house makes it harder to enjoy down time even now that I’m doing better.

Thankfully, my best friend, Kate, is coming over tonight. While I suffer through family visits to avoid hurting anyone's feelings, I actually look forward to hanging out with Kate.

As soon as she walks into my house, she notices that Nate’s shoes are no longer in the shoe rack by the door. I watch her expression as she looks up from the shoe rack to me standing in the kitchen. She silently walks over and gives me a hug.

“That was a big step, Noel. I’m so proud of you.”

My answering sigh is a mixture of relief and pain. “I had so much fun this afternoon on a new account at work that I still felt really energized when I got home. I started walking around the house moving things around. The next thing I knew, I was boxing up the shoes. It just happened. I’m not really sure how I feel about it now.”

“Okay…Let’s not think too much into it then. What’s the new account?”

The grin stretches across my face. “A total overhaul! My day was over in the blink of an eye. I had so many ideas!” I tell her excitedly because I am. I’m already enjoying this project.

“See! Going back to work was exactly what you needed. What company?”

“Do you remember Declan Adams?” I ask, completely unsure what her reaction will be to this part of the news.

She’s looking at me with big eyes. “The guy who single-handedly turned the cheerleading team against itself senior year then became prom king and brought both cheer captains as his dates at the end of that same school year?”

“That’s the one.” Although I didn’t remember the two prom dates, I do remember that he managed to smooth over all of the drama he caused within days of the cheerleaders finding out he was secretly hooking up with at least five of them. There were always juicy rumors floating around about him, and some were a little too far-fetched to be believable.

“Well your day was infinitely more interesting than mine. So, wait a minute. Declan Adams is your new client?” Her eyebrows pinch together now.

“That’s right.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest or something?” She looks more concerned than I anticipated.

“I’m not a doctor or therapist. It’s fine if I know my clients prior to creating their letterheads,” I try to justify, knowing where she’s going with this.

“If memory serves, weren’t you kind of in love with him? I know you never wanted to talk about it, but I always got the impression that was because he broke your heart.” She calls me out on the sad truth about the past I have with Declan, even though I didn’t need any help remembering. Those memories are ones I’ve learned to live with. When he hovered over my desk with that same darkened look in his eyes that he had back then, all the parts of me that used to belong to him began to stir. Also reminding me that time does not change some things.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure he still plays in the no-strings-attached arena, and we both know that isn’t my type,” I mix a lie with a truth. Kate has always been able to see right through bullshit, but I don’t really want to talk about him. I’ve stayed busy enough all day to avoid overanalyzing that meeting. It would be best if I didn’t relive the history of Declan Adams now.

Kate and I didn’t become close until senior year, and by then, the details around my almost relationship with Declan were old news. He was a star baseball player with new girlfriends every other week, and I started dating Nate just a couple of months into the school year. From what I can remember, the only reason Kate knew there was a past at all was that she found a box of notes from him in my room.

“Hmm. Or… that might be exactly what you need right now. You’re pushing six months of celibacy here!” She practically shrieks the last part.

“I don’t have the experience required to survive dating a man like Declan,” I argue. “Besides, I let him think I’m still married. And, I’m a professional.” I say, trying harder to get out of this conversation.

“I think you mean he doesn't have the experience to date a woman like you. It's time to let go of the past, Noel. People aren't always who they seem to be. When do you meet with him again?”

“Friday morning to tour his office. I like to get a feel for the company to make sure my designs are fitting. It usually gives me an edge compared to others. It will be strictly professional,” I over explain myself and hope she won’t notice.

“Well then, we need to go shopping,” she comments.

“Um, we just established that I’m not interested in dating him,” I protest, confused by her line of thinking.

“You still need to feel at the top of your game! This is your first big project since, well, you know… A new outfit will keep your mind in the present, so you can focus.”

I think about it for a second. “Okay. I like it. I can take off a little early tomorrow, actually.”

“Me too!” Kate shrieks, and we both laugh because she rarely goes to work at all.