19. Leah

CHAPTER 19

LEAH

FOUR WEEKS LATER

I scroll through the news on my phone, drinking in everything written today about GourmetGlobal's new release.

The authors praise Leadsom Inc., going on and on about how innovative the app is.

So far, it looks like the new launch is a success — if you're just looking at the numbers and the amount of press.

But something is lacking. The personal touch that I originally designed the app with isn't there.

The new design, which was the one I just hated the least, is cold and stark. The ease of use is there, but there's nothing warm and welcoming about the app.

Worst of all, Jack took away the on-call help that I used to have available. Now users have to send a message and wait for someone to get back to them.

But why should I expect otherwise? Jack said that feature was a waste of money.

Sighing, I put my phone face down on my desk and sit back in my chair. A second later, it beeps with a text.

Picking it back up, I find a link from my grandfather.

This house is for rent in town, he says. Real cute. Thought of you and the babies.

I smile. He's still trying to get me to move closer to them, and while that won't be happening, his persistence is sweet.

Just to humor him, I click on the link. Up pops a listing for a cheerful yellow cottage with a white picket fence and an abundant garden in the front.

Unexpectedly, my breath catches. I flick through the photos, taking in the sunny rooms and quaint décor. It's not like the sleek, modern apartment I'm used to, but there's something comforting about the thought of living in a place like this.

I imagine setting up the nursery in the cozy second bedroom and watching the kids play in the garden.

The rent is ridiculously low compared to Olympus City. So low that it has me thinking about what else I could get in my grandparents' town.

I could go ahead and buy a house. That would be an amazing investment to make.

But then reality hits me like a bucket of ice water. This is not my life. I have a successful career, and I'm not going to give it up for some fantasy of domesticity.

I push the phone away and try to focus on work, but my mind keeps wandering.

Maybe it's time to rethink my grandparents' desire for me to move closer to them. It's crazy that I'm even considering this, but some days I feel painfully close to throwing in the towel.

Except I don't want to leave GourmetGlobal. Not really.

Maybe there's an in-between. Maybe working remotely wouldn't be the disaster I've imagined. After all, it's not like being here in the office every day has led to getting what I want.

My eyes drift to the clock on the wall, and I jump. Is it really already ten thirty?

Shit! I have a prenatal appointment starting in fifteen minutes — and it's thirty minutes across town!

Letting out a string of curses, I grab my purse and run out the door. Today is my first ultrasound, and it's the only thing I've been looking forward to for the last few weeks.

And yet, thanks to the relaunch, I just got completely distracted. Here's hoping they can still get me in even if I am late.

In the parking garage, I sprint my way to my car, every second feeling precious.

As I reach the car, I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I insert the key into the ignition and turn it, but nothing happens. I try again, but still, nothing.

Panic sets in as I realize that I'm going to miss my appointment. This was supposed to be the day I finally see my babies' faces, and now it's ruined.

"No." With a moan, I let my head drop against the steering wheel.

Okay. This isn't completely ruined. I can still come back from this. I'll just order a car.

Fumbling for my phone, I pull up my rideshare app. The closest driver is ten minutes away.

"Ten minutes?" I yell at the phone.

Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. It's Jack, standing there watching me with a raised eyebrow.

Instantly, I stiffen. Having him catch me in a weak moment like this is definitely less than favorable.

Even worse, he's walking up to my open window — probably to make a rude remark.

"Not now," I growl at him.

He stops and smirks. "Excuse me for being concerned about my employee."

That makes my teeth grit. It's torture to remember how I used to like this man, how I briefly dreamed about what a happy future with him would look like.

"Just leave me alone, Jack." I look away, waiting for him to leave.

But he doesn't. He just stands there. Looking at me.

Fine.

I purse my lips. "I'm late for my doctor's appointment, and my car isn't starting."

His eyelashes flutter. "I can drive you."

I stare at him. No way did he just offer that.

We haven't spoken in weeks, and now he wants to give me a hand?

Bullshit. Something is up.

"What happened to you treating me like I'm a disease?" I ask.

He looks down. Do I detect some shame there?

No. Surely not. Jack Leadsom is incapable of such an emotion.

"We can have our differences," he says, "but you're still late to your appointment."

Differences? So that's what he's calling his treatment of me?

Wow. Just when I think this guy can't hit any lower…

"I ordered a car." I look away.

"When will it be here?"

I check my phone. Now, for some reason, the car is twelve minutes away.

I sigh. "Fine."

I can't believe I'm doing this. It's a mistake to accept his offer. I know that. It's going to kill me to be in the same vehicle as him.

But I don't have much of a choice at the moment, do I? Ultrasounds are hard to book at this clinic. I might have to wait weeks if I miss today.

And so I follow Jack to his expensive sports car, where he opens the door for me. I get in, careful to avoid looking at him. Just because he's giving me a ride doesn't mean I'm going to change my approach to him.

And I definitely will remain unaffected by him.

"Ready?" he asks.

I've barely buckled up before he grins in a devilish way and tears ass out of the parking lot. The jolt of adrenaline ignites a rush of heat between my legs, and it takes all my strength to not stare at the wind whipping his thick hair and his perfect, chiseled profile.

Yep. I'm completely unaffected.