Page 50 of Middle Ground
She doesn’t say more after that. I wait a beat, phone in hand, but nothing comes. Perhaps she is right—it’s dangerous to get my hopes up with her.
A couple hours pass as I settle into work, the dropped conversation with Meyer somewhat forgotten. Between paperwork and sorting through employee suggestions, I manage tofinallyorder a new chair to replace the one I’m currently sitting in. I can already picture what Meyer is going to say, but that is one thing I’m unwilling to compromise on.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my head, and then Trystan sticks his head in. “Jackson,” he says, “there’s someone here to see you.”
My brow arches. “Who?”
He shifts to the side, and in his wake, my best friend’s form fills the doorway.
Wells looks no different than the last time I saw him, which was a couple months ago now. He, like me, is more often than not wearing a suit, but today he has opted for jeans and a t-shirt. It contrasts my button-up and slacks.
He grins. “Hey. Thought I’d finally come check the place out.”
I stand from my chair and round the desk. He steps into the room and pulls me toward him, patting me on the back.
It’s been a while since I’ve even talked to Wells, too. He has been texting me, but I haven’t gotten around to replying. All of my focus has been on Meyer and the inn lately, whichhas left time for little else. I know he’ll probably give me shit for it, and I deserve it. I’ve been a shitty friend. I have been since I collapsed in that conference room, if I’m honest.
But it’s hard letting people, especially your family, see the parts of yourself that you’re ashamed of.
“Hey,” I say, then raise a brow. “You really drove up here just to see the place?”
He makes a show of looking around the office, inspecting it. “Is that so hard to believe?”
An out of the blue visit? “Yes.”
Although my friend isn’t a fan of much of the things his parents involve him in, he always sticks close to the city. Always shows up to this event and that party. While I may be beholden to my job, Wells is beholden to his family and the leash they’ve had attached to him since he was a kid. He’s never strayed far because of it.
Wells doesn’t have time to counter because Meyer bursts into the office then. She’s wearing her signature jeans and t-shirt, but there’s something about her that feels…different. It’s in the way her gaze settles on me. Like maybe she is warming up to me after all.
“Vaughan, why the hell is there a fancy car parked out front?” she asks. “You have your own spot for a reason.”
Wells clears his throat. “Sorry, that would be my fault.”
Meyer whips around, taken off guard by my friend, who is now leaning against a filing cabinet beside the open door. He straightens, stretching out a hand.
“You must be the infamous Meyer Ellison. Jackson’s told meallabout you,” he says. While I did mention Meyer and our rocky start when I first arrived, I haven’t updatedhim on the progress I’ve made with her. But that doesn’t matter—I don’t miss the sly look he sends my way. “I’m Wells McKenna.”
“That’s me,” she replies, shaking his offered hand. “Sorry,someoneforgot to mention we needed to roll out the red carpet. It’s at the cleaners from the last time a VIP stopped by.”
It’s often predictable how people will react when meeting Wells. They see his inviting grin, his good looks and his connection to his parents, and they think they can suddenly be his friend. As soon as the words leave Meyer’s lips, I know that Wells is appreciative. Besides his job, one thing my friend does very well is poke fun at himself.
He grins. “Don’t go to any trouble on my account. As long as I’ve got a solid gold toilet in my room, I’m good.”
Meyer lets out a bark of laughter. “Wells, you have to tell me. How areyoufriends withhim?” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder in my direction.
I scoff. “Now that’s a little rude.”
“My parents made me play with him when we were little,” Wells explains. “He kind of grew on me after a while.”
She hums. “Right. Like a fungus.”
He chokes on a laugh, and then he turns to me. “I like her. Can she be my new best friend?”
“Sorry,” she interjects, “but I’m partial to my Pippa.”
His head cocks to the side. “Your Pippa?”
The door opens then, and Pippa herself sticks her head in.
