2. Mandy

"No."

"Mandy. Come on."

"I said no, Harry." I grabbed my sweater from the counter in our back office, shoving it into my bag as quickly as I could. I almost wished I'd left my hair down today, at least then I could use it to shield my face from Harry's too-hard gaze. "I'm not doing it. End of discussion."

"They insisted you be there," Harry said, leaning his ass on the table as if I hadn't told him off for doing that exact thing a million times.

"Yeah, you said that."

"No," he replied, crossing his arms over his broad chest as I peeked at him through the corner of my eye. "They called back. They said that if you don't show, they'll pull out."

The expression ‘seeing red' was suddenly fartoo real for me. My hands clenched around the straps of my bag, my jaw muscles straining. He can't do that. That's not fucking fair. "What did he say exactly?"

"Well, it was his secretary, I think. But she said that if you don't show up, they'll hire someone else to do their interiors. We can't afford to lose them as a client, Mandy. They're the biggest contract we've got." Harry sighed into the silence that hung thick between us, the little puff of air sending one of his face-framing curls flying upwards. "You have to go."

"He's just doing this to be a fucking asshole," I snapped. I was so ready for the day to be over—it was ten past five, and normally, I'd be sitting in traffic right now, blasting my radio, soaking up the last rays of sunlight before it hid behind the rocky peaks. But no. I was in our business' break room, knee deep in bullshit. "I guarantee if you call them back and tell them that I have some previous engagement, he'll suck it up and back off."

"I think you're the only one who has to suck it up, Mands. We have to keep this contract, and I'm not going to risk losing it. It's our only way to be noticed outside of Boulder," he urged, throwing his hands up, emphasizing he had no other ideas.

He was right, though. This contract was the best one we'd ever received, and we'd barely had to fight for it. If we wanted to get bigger, to have a shot in Denver, Aspen, or hell, even outside Colorado, we'd have to keep J.B. Tech as a client.

I'd only agreed to it in the first place on two conditions—Harry would be the sole representative between our businesses, meaning I wouldn't have to see him; and J.B. Tech had to give us enough business to fund us for at least the next year.

And one of those conditions was already falling apart.

I fought the burning in the backs of my eyes as I turned to Harry, my hands starting to cramp from their vice-like grip on my bag. "I can't do it, Harry. I don't want to see him. I don't."

"I know. I know you have a history with him, but just this once, you have to look past it."

I threw my bag over my shoulder. "I need to think about it," I mumbled. "Please. Just give me a day."

Harry sighed as he collapsed into the chair beside the table, shoving his hands through his hair in frustration. "Fine. You need to tell me by tomorrow, okay? I want to call them back sooner rather than later."

————

The clinking of glasses, low music, and scraping of silverware on plates wasn't enough to keep my mind off the upcoming meeting with J.B. Tech and every single thing that came with it. Even Amanda's buzzing praise of our new product lineup as she babbled at me over dinner wasn't enough. My mind kept traveling back to him, to why he was insisting on my attendance. I hadn't seen him in ten years. Why now? Why me?

"Mandy."

I looked up from my empty serving plate, locking eyes with Amanda as she sipped her fruity cocktail. "What?"

"Were you even listening?"

No. Of course not. I have bigger problems than your boss sleeping with his secretary. "Of course I was."

She rolled her eyes at me as she shoved the little tiki umbrella into her straw, stirring around the colors in her glass. "I've known you since we were, like, five. I know when you're lying. Your nostrils flare."

Instinctively, I covered my nose as I let a glare seep through the facade I was desperately trying to keep up. I hated when she was right.

"What's going on?" She pressed, resting her chin on her intertwined knuckles as she leaned forward on the table. "You're normally attentive. Something's gotta be bothering you."

I chewed the flesh of my cheek as I thought about the best way to bring it up to her. She'd been there every step of the way, through the rise and fall and rise again. "You remember Jackson?"

Her body stiffened as she narrowed her eyes. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. Have you been, uh, thinking about him recently?"

"Not intentionally," I mumbled, slumping back in my seat. "You remember how we got that massive client? The one that's moving their tech business to town?"

Slowly, Amanda's eyes widened, the realization I'd painfully had to make a few weeks ago sinking into her now. "Don't tell me it's J.B. Tech."

"It's J.B. Tech."

"Fuck," she spat, sitting upright. "Can you at least avoid him?"

"He's insisting I attend the first meeting or he'll pull the contract," I explained. Just saying the words made the pit in my stomach grow larger, stealing my appetite. I wanted to be home, in my bed, with my face shoved into the pillow and a scream ripping from my throat. "We need the contract."

"Oh my God, what a fucking psycho," she said, her body recoiling. "He shatters your heart into a million pieces and then expects you to just agree to see him ten years later? At a business meeting of all things? I mean, fuck, if LV needs the cash I can have my mom wire it to you. Don't go near him if you can help it."

I sighed the best chuckle I could muster. "That's a lovely offer but if my business is going to stay afloat, I'd rather it be because of me and my hard work."

"I get that. I do. But if it's between seeing Jackson fucking Big and your business going under, I'd rather you didn't have to?—"

"Don't worry about it, okay? If it comes down to it and I have to work with him, I'll just make sure his life is a living hell," I laughed. If he thinks abandoning me in the middle of the night after taking my virginity is an okay thing to do, then he can withstand my bitchiness.

"Okay, okay. But I'm serious. If you need the money?—"

My phone buzzed loudly from the table, preventing her from finishing the sentence. We stared at the screen in tandem, the number unknown to either of us.

I didn't normally answer unknown numbers.

And I don't know what compelled me to this time.

"Hello?" I asked warily, holding one finger against my open ear to dampen the sound of the restaurant.

"Hello. Mandy."

The breath in my lungs suddenly felt more like ice than warm air.

I knew that voice.

Knew it all too well, even though it had changed. Matured. Deepened.

My heart pounded in my chest.

The butterflies in my stomach went into overdrive.

My mind raced trying to think how to treat him.

"Jackson," I managed after what seemed like the ten years I hadn"t seen him.

"I heard you were having a bit of a hard time deciding whether or not to come to our meeting," he drawled, the sound of a pen tapping against wood just barely seeping through the phone. "I'd like to make it a little easier for you."

"I—"

"I don't think you can afford not to come, Ms. Littleson." The click of the pen, the typing sounds of a keyboard. "LV Interiors. Owned by Miranda Littleson and Harry Voss. Currently valued at approximately five hundred thousand dollars. Three shareholders—your mother, Gianna Palton; Amanda Holston, nice to know she's still around; and Tracey Holston, who I can only imagine is Amanda's mother. I don't think your shareholders would be happy to know the actual valuation."

The idea of the plate of spaghetti I'd ordered was suddenly nauseating. "Excuse me?"

"Those numbers aren't exactly correct, are they, Mandy? Your reported income in the last two years has been significantly lower than that. Business slowed down, and with no new, big contracts…" he continued, the creaking of leather faint in the background. "You'll be at the meeting."

"Jackson—"

Silence, then the sound of a beep. I pulled my phone away from my ear, the call gone, nothing but my lock screen filling the space that his number had taken.

"The fucker hung up on me."

And to think I used to call him panda bear.