Page 15 of The Best Worst Mistake (Off-Limits #2)
Abby
I scan my closet. Apparently, all I’ve purchased as an adult to fill my very hard-to-find walk-in closet here in New York is neutral-colored pencil skirts, polyester blouses, and stiff blazers.
“It’s like I’ve spent my whole life attending my own funeral with this wardrobe,” I say to Olivia, bracing myself against the door.
She snorts into the phone screen.
“What do you think I’ve been telling you all these years?” she asks.
“This is getting serious,” I moan. “What’s wrong with me? Am I thirty or ninety-two?”
I only have an hour to pack for this extended work trip to California where I’m imagining balmy weather and palm trees swaying over enticing blue pools, but apparently I don’t even own a swimsuit from the last five years. My closet is a sea of charcoal and beige.
Beige , for God’s sake.
“Why didn’t you tell me I dress like I’m having a love affair with neutral polyblends?” I ask.
“I have,” she teases. “Although I think the term fashion people like to use nowadays is old money wardrobe . Which works for New York.”
Her tan, freckled face fills my phone screen, propped up against the wall behind my dresser, next to what is apparently my highly depressing funeral-director closet. Her cobalt eyes shine, somehow lighter in the sunlight there.
“You’re going to need to get a few tank tops and shorts.
L.A. is hot this time of year compared to New York, Abs.
At the very least, go hit up that store near your apartment so you can throw some basic sundresses into your bag.
Otherwise you’re going to have the same situation I had when I got to Hawaii.
I was sweating my face off, about to pass out from the heat, standing outside in a sweater, of all things.
Except you might not be lucky enough to be rescued by a young Jason Momoa look-alike who just so happened to be passing by, like I was. ”
“In my case, I’ll probably pass out on Brett’s shoulder, which is more like nightmare material, but I don’t have time to shop.” I check the clock next to my bed. “I only have an hour to pack. Brett booked our flights for eight o’clock tonight.”
“A night flight? With your boss? Ew . Do you think he likes to fly in his pajamas?”
I try not to picture my asshole boss cozied up beside me in some paper-thin pajama pants that don’t hide anything. This trip is going to be hard enough on my nerves without adding Brett flying in his pajamas to the mix.
“Not the mental picture I want to hone in on right now,” I say, chuckling. “Besides, in his words, why would we fly during the day when those are butt-in-the-chair, billable hours?”
I hold the phone camera up to my closet so she can assess the situation.
“Don’t you own a pair of yoga pants?”
I crack open a dresser drawer, the contents of which have not seen light in months, pull out a pair of red Lululemons, tag still attached, and hold them up to the screen.
“There you go,” she says, brightening. “Buy an I heart NY T-shirt or something at the airport to get you through the flight. And after that, go shopping, like, ASAP.”
“I’ll just order a few new things to arrive this week since I won’t have time to shop once I land.
I can’t believe how long I’m going to be in L.A.
for this merger,” I tell her, shaking my head.
“Of all the places. I haven’t been back there in, well, forever.
It’s supposed to take weeks to get the deal done.
Possibly longer since the opposing counsel team just got word that a new buyer is potentially coming in hot.
Whatever new team is supposedly jumping in at this point is going to have to hit the ground running, but it’ll still put us a bit behind according to our client’s timeline. ”
“The life of a fancy attorney,” she says. “Will they fly you back and forth every weekend? Or do you plan to just stay there that whole time?”
“They offered to fly me back and forth, but honestly, what’s the point? I figure I may as well just stay there instead of spending every Friday night and Sunday morning on a plane flying across the country.”
“Thank goodness for Carla,” she says, sadly. “Poor Toby will really miss you.”
I snort and shoot her a look.
“Thank you for lying like that, but he prefers her to me. I swear he understood what I was saying when I explained to him that he’d be staying at Carla’s house while I’m gone. The joy in his whiskers was legit, Liv. You should have seen it.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“I would feel worse for him,” Liv says, “but I do know he loves her—” She stops short and clasps one hand over her mouth.
I laugh and shake my head then wave her on to continue.
“Go ahead. You can say it. He loves her more than me.”
“No, I wasn’t going to say that,” she argues, pulling her hand away.
I squint at the screen in time to see Liv rub her nose and look off to the side.
Liar .
“Okay,” I say, relenting. She and I both know Toby is in excellent hands with Carla while I’m gone. Not only does he absolutely adore her, but she’s obsessed with him, too.
“He’s adaptable. And resilient. And wary of weirdos, apparently. You must have done a good job raising him, mama,” I tell her.
She grins.
“Speaking of being a weirdo, have you thought anymore about calling Dax before you get on that plane?”
“Should I take the matching sports bra?” I ask, holding up a matching chili-pepper red bra with the tag hanging off the side, and ignoring her question.
She widens her eyes at the screen.
“You’re not going to call him before you go?”
I stare back at her.
“Why bother with all that again? We’ve been down this road before.
He lives over there, and I live over here.
And there’s nothing in me that wants to open that situationship up again.
” She continues staring at me like there’s egg thrown across my face.
“What am I supposed to do? Call him up like, Hey! Remember when I ghosted you for a second time a whopping six years after the first time? I hear that the third time’s the charm, so let’s have one more go at it! ”
Liv frowns. “You’d better call him,” she says, stiffening her upper lip. “The way you two keep popping up in each other’s lives . . .” She whistles. “It’s like the universe wants you to get something figured out.”
Staring into my stupid closet, I fix my jaw and shake my head, like it’ll shake the memory of Dax saying something very similar back into the past.
“Trust me, I did us both a favor by closing the door on a second chance,” I say, firmly. “We’re both wrapped up in our careers and live way too far away to attempt anything more than the very good time we had that night. Plus, I’m really not capable of relationships,” I insist. “You know that.”
“That’s just what you like to tell yourself. I think it’s worth a shot.” She sighs. “Besides, you’re going to need some serious stress relief with this deal you’re working on.”
“Ah, yes, The Nile Group deal.” Brett and I, along with a team of associates who are all staying in New York as support, have been working on a deal to purchase The Nile Group for months.
I already know this will likely be the biggest deal of my career, and Brett is co-counseling it with me, finally giving me a chance at becoming a fully-fledged partner.
“See, the thing is, after you’ve ghosted someone twice .
. . I’m not sure the term stress relief is the exact phrase that comes to mind when I think of Dax. ”
“I don’t know anyone else who’s held onto the idea of someone as long as the two of you have. And, besides, maybe it won’t matter that it’s been a few months. You guys slid right back into your old roles the second you saw each other last time, right?”
“He could have a girlfriend this very second,” I remind her, shrugging. “I wouldn’t know.”
“He doesn’t,” she says.
“How would you know that?”
“Because I just checked online. He’s single. Single as a fucking pringle.”
I laugh, recalling the moment she said those exact words on The Good Day Show , causing the meme of her face to go viral.
“I need to focus on the merger while I’m there. Nothing else. This is my shot at a partnership offer.”
“Ah, right, instant partnership with Brett and the rest of those yahoos at the top of the food chain there?” The only person who hates Brett more than me is Olivia.
I sigh.
As if there’s been anything instant about becoming a partner. This promotion would mean I’d finally achieved the goal I’d been chasing nearly 24/7 since the day I graduated from law school and took this position working under Brett.
After eight months of around-the-clock work on this deal, recently, a few backdoor rumors began swirling that another company suddenly has its eye on The Nile Group, too.
That’s the real reason I’m jetting off to L.A.
tonight. Our client doesn’t want to see The Nile Group get taken out from under us in the final moment.
They want the deal done now without any other enticing offers coming in before we can get it done.
It’s a long shot, if you ask me. Especially since I’d guess that The Nile Group is well aware that another stealth company has its eye on them, and will likely stall in order to receive their offer.
“This is the one,” Brett said earlier today while going on and on about dropping everything in my life to head over to L.A. with him for the next few weeks. “Get this deal done before whatever assholes are trying to steal it out from us and you’re in, Torres. You’ll be one of us.”
You’re in — meaning I’d get a seat at the partner table. Something I’ve saved up and planned for since the moment I was hired.
I peel off the gray pencil skirt I wore to the office and start pulling the red yoga pants on.
“Holy shit,” I say, gasping between pulls. “Either I’ve grown since I bought these, or I forgot how controlling the control top can be.”
Liv looks amused while she watches me nearly fall into my dresser, hopping on one foot while trying to get my ankle through a tiny pant leg.