Page 70 of Beauty
Never in my life have I wished more for female friends to help me figure out what the fuck occurred in the family and friends suite last night.
Other than Millie, I really don’t have anyone to talk to. And I can’t possibly talk to her, considering who she’s married to and because Hannah is her sister-in-law. I swear someone needs to make me a diagram so that I can remember who everyone is either related to or fucking.
It’d be one of those giant diagrams pinned to a wall. The kind always depicted on crime shows. With red string and pushpins.
Seven Degrees of the Langfield Brothers.
I swear, no matter who I meet, they’ve got some sort of connection to at least one of my brothers.
Annoyance flares to life in my chest. Can’t I just have one person to myself? One memory?
Nope.
Not even Noah, apparently.
“Here’s your office.” Gavin stops in front of a door a few down from Liv’s.
I peer in, take a step back into the hall, and eye the nameplates outside the surrounding offices. “Where’s yours?”
Gavin smirks. “I have one downstairs. Near the rink. This is my old office.” A smile creeps onto his face as he surveys the room, like there are real memories walking around in there.
I eye the space through his eyes, quickly racked by a full-body shudder.
“How many women have you fucked in this room?”
With a scoff, he slips his hands into his pockets and looks away.
I take a step to the side so I’m in his line of vision and arch a brow.
He was always the fuckboy of the bunch. His attempt to act like he’s affronted by my question isn’t fooling me.
With a sigh, he adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves. “It’s been empty for years, and it’s cleaned weekly.”
I snort as I walk in. “Noted.”
“Don’t say anything to Millie,” he grumbles from the doorway.
Laughing, I spin to face him. “Right, because she thought you were a saint when she seduced you all those years ago.”
Gavin wanders around the office, ignoring me.
That’s fine. I’m happy to move on, and honestly, bantering with him like that put me in the headspace I need to move forward with this day.
“What do I do now that I’m here?” I round the desk and run my hands over the black lacquered surface.
It’s nothing like Liv’s desk, or Beckett’s. Theirs are standard solid-wood pieces. This one is shiny and sleek. My heart aches with affection when it hits me that he had this put in here specifically for me. That he took the time to find something he knew I’d like.
The office itself is simple, with a tall bookcase on one side and framed photos of Boston on the other, but the view of the Atlantic through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the desk makes up for it. It may not be the Eiffel Tower, but it’s no less beautiful.
As that thought runs through my mind, I make a promise to myself to stop comparing this new life to my old one.
There’s no going back, and it’s time to start working toward making peace with that.
“HR has a few forms for you to fill out.” He slips his hands into his pockets. “I’ve left you a list of the contracts that are up for negotiation this year, as well as a list of positions we’ll be looking to fill. Take your time. Familiarize yourself with the notes. It’ll probably seem like a foreign language to you?—”
I snort. “I moved to France before I could speak a lick of French. I can figure out your hockey stats.”
He nods, a smirk on his face. “I have no doubt. Still.” He surveys me, his expression thoughtful, caring. “It’s a lot. My door is always open?—”
