Page 48 of Pieces of Us

‘Yes. You. My best friends, Lily and Rome, are at work, and I thought maybe you could be my new friend.’ I don’t know what it is about her, but I trust her. I think she’s good for my soul. I meet a lot of fake people in my life, and can spot realness from a mile away.

‘Am I Dorothy?’ She’s flummoxed.

‘Who?’ My brows furrow in confusion

‘Dorothy. As in The Wizard of Oz. Have I hit my head and landed in some alternate reality?’

She’s dead serious, which makes me keel over. I have to hold the desk.

‘No, you’re not Dorothy, and yes, I’m serious. Uncle Jacob said not to accost you, but I don’t care. Plus, I could get away with murder and he’d still love me. Let’s go. I’ve had a long afternoon, and I need something.’ I tug at her hand and pull her along. I don’t know who her immediate boss is, but I doubt they’d say anything to me.

‘I made them stock Ami-tea in the kitchen,’ she says proudly. I’m shocked at her confession.

‘What do you mean!? My dad is the head of the company. He should have displayed it.’ I’m mock outraged, but this will definitely be brought up tonight when I get home.

‘It’s so bizarre that you’re Mr. Hartford’s daughter.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

We both make a cuppa and talk about surface-level topics, like what school she went to, her job here, my job. I know she’s a little awestruck, but the more we chat, the more it feels like I’ve known her for a while.

‘So you’re pretty close to Jacob and Lincoln, then?’ She adds Lincoln on like he’s an afterthought.

My hand wraps around my mug. Lifting it to my lips, I take a sip, eyeing her the entire time. ‘Jacob. Hmm.’

Her eyes go comically wide. ‘I mean, Mr. Hayes,’ she sputters.

‘Uh-huh. Don’t think I don’t know that look.’ I arch an eyebrow. She gulps down her tea, buying herself time.

‘There’s no look.’ Her face is sauce red. It’s cute and endearing that she has a little crush on Uncle Jacob.

‘If you say so,’ I sing-song.

A chill sweeps through the room as if the air conditioner has been turned up a notch. I feel ice tingle its way up my spine. The click-clack of heels gets louder with each step, and the waft of cheap perfume assaults my nose.

‘Well, look who it is,’ the overly fake cheery voice of Billie rings.

My posture stiffens. I don’t want to talk to her or be near her. I don’t want to reconcile. I don’t want to have to pretend to be civil. But I know I have to do all of those things to save face in front of the office.

A sympathetic glance from Ella is shot my way before she greets her. ‘Hey, Billie.’

‘Daniella.’

Billie’s shadow covers the table, eclipsing any light. She’s standing too close for my comfort. ‘What brings you down here, Amity?’ There’s a slice of coolness in her voice.

I force myself to look at her. She’s still as stunning as ever. Blonde barbie doll hair that’s swept off her face and a petite figure that men love. She’s in a little black dress that is probably more suitable to wear to a club, but she still looks killer in it. I hate it, and I hate her. She’s a constant walking, talking reminder of everything I’m not.

‘It’s my dad’s company. I didn’t think I really needed a reason. Plus, Uncle Jacob just finished the design of my next home.’ I drum my fingers on the table, knowing I’m being slightly petty for flaunting my success in her face.

‘Oh? Moving back here?’ she enquires.

‘That would be so cool if you were!’ Ella reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

I half-heartedly laugh, because as much as I’d love to move back here, I don’t know if I’d survive being this close to Lincoln all the time.

‘Nope, but I like the idea of having my own space when I do come back and visit.’

‘I bet everyone has loved having you back,’ Ella chimes in during the awkward gap in conversation.

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