Chapter 2

TWO

FOSTER

This meeting was devolving, fast.

Every chart that Jeanie put up on the screen trended in the wrong direction.

Down.

Exactly the direction my eyelids were heading.

Both the charts and my sleepiness were problems, as indicated by Jeanie’s tone, and by the agitated looks on both Jeanie’s and Daniel’s faces.

I took another long swig of my tea. Caffeine would clear the afternoon fog from my brain.

Any minute now.

I hoped.

“We need to distance ourselves from unmarketable start-ups and focus only on clients whose products actually have a chance to thrive in the market,” Jeanie said.

What we needed was to hire fresh marketing talent. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a possibility when the charts looked like ski slopes.

Both Daniel and Jeanie turned their sour expressions on me.

“What?” I shifted in my seat. “I don’t pick duds.”

“Voice-activated toothbrush,” Jeanie said.

“People love technology for the sake of futurism,” I said. “It would have worked out if they’d gotten a little more cash flow to improve the AI understanding of words spoken with the mouth full.”

Jeanie pointed her pen at me. “No AI could make up for the fact that the creator needed veneers.”

All right, she had a point there. Brian’s teeth were terrible. They reminded me of thin corn kernels with large gaps between them. It’s difficult for someone to sell a toothbrush when they themselves have bad teeth.

“He should have hired a spokesperson,” Daniel said.

The obvious solution.

I shrugged. “The creator refused.”

Daniel gave me a look that suggested I was making his point for him.

I still believed in Brian and his vision. He wasn’t ready to step back from the spotlight. But when he was, I’d be here to help him succeed.

“What about the bubble wrap bracelet?” Jeanie asked.

If she couldn’t see the value in this one, I didn’t understand her at all.

“There’s nothing more satisfying than the pop of smashing tiny air pockets,” I said. “It’s anxiety relief on the go in a time where stress is soaring. Plus, it reinflates.”

“But the founder refused to fund cheaper materials for testing.” Daniel sucked in a long breath. “Thank you, Jeanie, that’ll be all for now.”

She frowned, but packed up and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Three people simply weren’t enough to run a corporate law firm focused on helping startups navigate legal challenges and secure funding.

Daniel steepled his hands together on the table.

He flattened his expression.

He unconsciously bounced his leg under the table.

I tipped back the rest of my mug of tea to prepare myself.

“All of our success is because of you,” he said.

“That’s not true,” I said. It was a team effort, right from the beginning.

“Don’t be modest. We both know you have a talent in seeing potential others don’t. You’re the heart of our partnership. You’re the one who chose every winning product over the past five years,” Daniel said. “You’re the reason I was able to pay off my parents’ mortgage.”

He was pulling at my heartstrings.

He was buttering me up.

The hit was coming.

“Your problem, Foster, isn’t the products you’ve chosen lately.” Daniel leaned back in his seat. “It’s the people. You let the potential you see cloud the reality. Not everyone can reach as high as you think they can. Most people get stuck in their own way.”

He was probably right.

As a general rule of life, Daniel was always right.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked.

“Some.” Maybe two hours.

His frown deepened.

That’s when I realized his comment about people getting stuck in their own way—he was probably referring not just to the clients I chose, but to me, too.

I did my best creative work at night.

No matter the cost, I couldn’t give that up.

Daniel clenched his jaw. “Drop the flatware client.”

“EcoSpoon is a solid product.”

“There are already plenty of options for disposable cutlery on the market,” Daniel said. “Help me focus on my clients for a while. Bring your creativity there, and we’ll put the firm back on track together.”

Listening to my best friend and business partner was always smart. The two of us had been set in our roles since we were eight years old, sitting together in Daniel’s treehouse.

I was the adventurer, dragging him along to try out the flame thrower I found left behind at a construction site.

He was the pragmatist, making sure we didn’t burn our hands off.

“I’ll help you with your clients,” I said. “I won’t take on anyone new.”

The truth was we needed something to change. The last couple of startups I’d chosen failed to launch because my head wasn’t properly in the game. It wasn’t them. It was me.

My other life consumed my thoughts—the one I led when the sun went down.

My secret life.

I replayed the art exhibit on North Pole Island in my mind on repeat over the past week. I thought constantly about the woman I’d met there.

Her hesitant enthusiasm.

Her expressive blue eyes.

Her uncontrolled blush whenever she asked for something she wanted.

I was stuck wishing I could relive the way I’d felt that night. Alert. Awed. Alive.

As soon as the sun rose, my creativity dried up.

As soon as I stepped into the office, the world felt gray.

Inspiration failed me. That meant I was failing Daniel and Jeanie, along with the families who relied on them both.

“You’re going to drop EcoSpoon?” Daniel asked, voice deep with skepticism.

I didn’t want to.

“I’ll…think about it.” I grinned.

Daniel sighed and left the conference room.

A few moments later, the intercom buzzer rang. Strange Jeanie wouldn’t just yell down the hall like she usually did.

I pressed the button to respond. “Yes, Jeanie?”

“There’s a woman here to see you.”

Her voice was a lot lighter than it had been during the meeting. Almost like I’d caught her in the middle of watching those cat videos she liked.

She said, “She says she’s your wife.”

Then a snort came through the line.

Hilarious.

I said flatly, “I’m not married.”

“That’s what I told her, but…she has a marriage certificate.”

After the meeting I didn’t expect Jeanie to be in a joking mood. It was a strange lie. Or…was this a scam?

I moved Jeanie’s and Daniel’s chairs to my side of the table, forcing whoever this person was to stand upon entering.

Then, curious, I took my seat and said, “Send her in.”

Moments later, a woman stepped through the conference room door.

My eyes caught first on her the vibrant purple color of her flowing skirt, on the tiny white t-rexes printed on the fabric. Then on her face.

It only took a second for me to recognize her.

A flash of those telling blue eyes of hers.

Aurora.

The woman I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about over the past week, the one I never thought I’d see again, was here in Epiphany. She was in my office.

I felt like someone had thrown a glass of ice water in my face.

She’d cut off most of her brown hair. That night, she’d bound it in a neat ponytail that reached halfway down her back. Now the ends brushed her shoulders.

She wore a boxy and worn button-down coat with paint splatters staining the sleeves. It didn’t look like house paint. I felt the urge to ask what medium it was.

“Hi,” she said with a small wave.

Our gazes collided. She sucked in a sharp breath.

Immediately she looked away and examined the conference room. Her pulse ticked on the side of her neck.

She looked exactly and nothing like I remembered.

And she was intimidated.

If this was a scam, she was an inexperienced scammer. Any bluff she may utter would be more convincing behind sunglasses and a scarf.

Her throat worked as if swallowing was difficult. “I, uh, didn’t expect to see you again.”

It sounded true. I hadn’t expected to see her again either. Still, she was avoiding eye contact.

“Yet you’re here,” I said. “In my office.”

“I am.” She chewed her lip. “I have to be.”

“Why is that?”

“I received this in the mail.”

She set down a paper on the conference table.

This was the part where she tried to convince me that the certificate wasn’t fake, where she tried to coerce me into paying her a chunk of money to get out of our “marriage” so I didn’t have to deal with the headache of hearing from her lawyer.

I hadn’t thought her the type to do something like this. But one night wasn’t enough to really know a person, even if it had felt that way at the time. And here we were.

Part of me hoped she’d prove me wrong.

I waited.

Silence was a shield. I’d learned its power as a child. My work handling sensitive information reinforced its worth on a daily basis.

“Do you have any idea how this happened, because I don’t.” Her eyes were pleading, her voice distraught. “You’re a lawyer, right? It happened in another country, so it can’t be legally binding.”

Interesting.

“Why are you here, Aurora no-last-names?” I asked.

“I need your help. I cannot be married.”

Me neither. I didn’t do commitment. I didn’t do feelings.

But my nerves were firing like an electrical storm.

The purple of her skirt and the blue of her eyes made the room brighter.

She knocked the tired haze out of my system.

So I played the devil’s advocate. “Why not?”

She huffed. “Seriously? We don’t even know each other, like at all. I can’t be tied down and forced to think about what someone else wants.”

“What do you want?”

“Another chance to prove that I deserve to be taken seriously. Success. Security. Not to be married.”

I looked her over—the wild, pleading look in her eyes and the complete change in appearance. I saw the same thing I’d seen in North Pole Island, only more strongly now.

Aurora was lost.

“Tell me this certificate isn’t real and I’ll be out of your life for good,” she said. “We can both move on.”

I looked it over and finally learned her full name—Aurora Norey.

“It looks real enough,” I said.

She pressed her lips together, clearly displeased with my assessment.

“That’s okay. I brought annulment paperwork just in case.” She rifled through her bag and slapped down another paper onto the table. “I need this. I don’t have a place to live, or a job anymore, let alone energy to deal with legal stuff.”

No wonder she was lost. My heart went out to her.

I reached for the annulment paper.

“Ever since that crusty toenail clipping ruined my exhibition…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Never mind. Not your problem.”

Exhibition?

“Tell me,” I commanded.

She licked her lips, looked down at the paper, then back at me. A flush covered her cheeks.

“I’m an artist,” she said. “I was on North Pole Island for an exhibition I curated of my mentor’s work. Shard, this super famous street artist, broke in and ruined it. And now he’s getting all this praise for destroying both my career and my mentor’s paintings.”

She practically spat my alias.

And this story she was telling…it was a lie.

I scanned her expression for any hint of deception.

I looked into those eyes that told only truth.

And I saw fire, but no lies. Was it possible she really didn’t know?

In an even tone, I repeated her words, “This Shard character broke in?”

“Well, the museum was open when I returned.” She shifted on her feet. “But I definitely locked it.”

“And he destroyed the artwork yet everyone is praising him?”

“Well I think Shard goes by they, so no one knows if they’re a man or woman to better hide their crimes.”

I never told anyone to call me they. It wasn’t a bad idea, but it wasn’t mine.

“And yes, it’s the worst thing ever,” Aurora continued. “Please sign this paper so I can get my life back on track.”

She really didn’t know.

Bertram hadn’t told her.

I could tell her everything now. I could release her like she asked. But something held me back.

I was drawn to people who got stuck in their own way.

Aurora had chosen Bertram as a mentor. Trusting him left her homeless and jobless. She made terrible decisions.

And now she was here, asking for my help.

That was exactly what I would give her.

“No,” I said.

“No?”

“You can pursue a divorce if you want, or you can choose to honor the commitment we made. I won’t sign.”

“I didn’t commit.” A flush of red crept up her neck.

“We consummated our marriage,” I said.

“We weren’t in our right minds!”

“We weren’t under the influence of anything.”

“But….” Her shoulders heaved with her staggered breaths.

“We’ll give it until Christmas.” That would be enough time to help her. “You’ll live with me. And if at the end you still want me to sign your paper, I will.”

Energy and inspiration thrummed through my veins. I hadn’t felt so alive in as long as I could remember.

“No freaking way.” She glared at me.

I countered, “You said you don’t have a place to live.”

“I’m doing fine on my own.”

I shrugged like it didn’t matter to me what she decided.

It did matter. More than it should.

“I’ll make you regret this,” she said.

The buzzing sensation under my skin surged. It was almost too much to contain.

“I look forward to seeing you try.” I offered her my phone. “Put in your number.”

“Or I could chuck it across the room instead.”

I could see how much she wanted to do that. I also knew she wouldn’t follow through. “And have to pay for the damage?”

With a bitter look of disdain, she smashed her thumbs against my screen. When she was finished, she set down the phone rather roughly on the table instead of handing it back.

I pulled out my spare key. “I’ll text you the address. See you tonight, Mrs. Musa.”

She looked like she was about to explode as she snatched the key from my hand and stormed out.

Charged with inspiration, I barked a laugh and dug into work.