Page 95 of My Office Rival

And still I couldn’t forget her.You might never forget her.She might have been the one. How quickly things turned to shit. The deal was fucked and my origination credit was gone. Two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars down the drain. I wanted to scream into the wind coming off the river. That meant a year, maybe two, at the firm?Fuck. A year or two of late nights, the ever-present fear of discovery, coming home alone, except for the occasional woman I met on the app. And how could that compare to what I’d had with Cynthia?It couldn’t. Those were casual fucks. She was the first woman who’d ever slept in my arms. For the first time in years, I had slept through the night. I pictured a faceless woman taking her place. My stomach roiled.

Stop thinking about her. Stop tormenting yourself.Every footfall chastised me as I tried to outrun the pain. I returned to my apartment, theemptiness yawning. I showered and thought of her and my fucked-up life. I toweled dry and thought of her.This has to stop. I texted Miles and Jonah.

Jonah

I need a break. Gotta get out of my head.

Miles

Want to go upstate this weekend?

Jonah

Did you just invite yourself to my house?

Jason

Let’s do it. Which one of you is driving?

Jonah drove like a bat out of hell and took turns with speed that had me clutching the handles. Miles was marginally better, except he had horrible taste in music and insisted that it was “driver’s choice.”

Jonah

My house. I’m driving.

Jason

Hopefully we survive to see the house.

Miles

What’s going on with you? More texts?

Jason

It’s her. I’ll tell you about it at the house.

Jonah

I have updates for you on the search.

59

JASON

Jonah’s upstate house was insane. As we pulled up the private drive, past the row of massive conifers, the mansion came into view. It was a warm beacon in the crisp air, with multiple wings, a magnificent porch, and stately grounds. I unfolded myself from Jonah’s “weekend car”—a Bentley SUV—and stretched.

Miles was needling him about how much time he’d spent on the phone while driving. “We pulled over three times so you could send emails. Just have Lou drive us next time. Or me.” He grinned.

“You are not getting behind the wheel of this car,” Jonah responded shortly. “You are the worst driver I know.”

“It’s a competition,” I muttered, sucking in the cool country air.

We’d been coming here for years, and Miles liked to pretend they were regular guys up here. Jonah wasn’t interested in being regular, but he went along with our plans. We would grill, use the pool on hot summer days, hike, and go to local bars.

We grabbed our bags and pushed open the front door. The house would be ready for us. It always was. Jonah had staff who bought all the groceries, changed the linens, and thought of his needs before he could even ask. It was good to be a billionaire.

Not an hour later, I was ensconced in what Jonah called “thelibrary,” which we’d slowly modified to be more of a pool-hall-slash-den-of-debauchery. There were pool and poker tables, a massive sectional, a flat-screen TV, and a hidden bar. I pressed a button and the wall slowly retracted to reveal a gleaming bar that jutted out into the space.

---