My Hot New Year (2 page)

I run my eye over the papers in front of him in what I hope looks like a non-psychotic fashion, nodding several times like a zombie.

“Really?”  I try to sound calm, but my stomach is churning harder than ever before.  What if Jake Sterns has spoken to him?  What if they know about our love shack hook-up?

“I just got out of meetings with our new owners.  Wilshire Publishing has been bought out, and dozens of people will be laid off.  That announcement is about to be made to the staff.”  He pauses with a grimace.  “But, the good news for you is that we want to offer you a managing editor position in our New York office.  It’s a new addition obtained through the merger.  Congratulations, Jillian!”

New York?  As in New York City?

“What?”  I say in a daze.

“It’s a lucrative package, Jillian.  We will pay for your family’s relocation, and the promotion will involve a pay raise, too.”

“Wow.”  I swallow.  For a moment, my heart stands still.  I'm getting a raise AND a promotion?  Scott will really be kicking himself when he hears about this.  He spent the past 15 years as a managing editor for one of the top publishing houses in the country, and he never stopped bragging about himself.   Then, he left me for that twenty-something dingbat, who literally could float down the creek with all the built-in life preserver in her chest.  That’s beside the point.  I am going to be a New Yorker!

Hang on a minute.  What about the kids?  My dreams of them playing catch in the backyard, sipping iced tea with
Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome
just came to screeching halt.  Jim doesn't really think I can uproot my family and move to New York, does he?  Wait…did Jake find out about me, and then try to get me out of town?  Maybe he EXPECTS me to turn it down and this is their way of firing me?

My heart is racing again.

"Jillian?"

"Yes…oh, I'm sorry.  This is just a lot for me to absorb,"  I say, and manufacture a smile for him. "Can I take a look at the offer and get back to you?"  I ask vaguely.  I feel a twinge of apprehension as I see him leaning forward.

"Get back to me?  Jillian, this is not a multiple choice question - this is the ONLY option for you.  We value you, but your strengths will be better utilized in New York."

I stare at him in frustration.  This is all wrong.  This can't be right, can it?  What am I getting myself into here?  My head is pounding, and I feel nauseous.  I need to leave right this minute.  I need air and lots of it!

"Well, thank you, Jim.  I certainly appreciate what you had to say.  I will let all of this sink in, and we can talk again after the staff meeting?"

"Okay, let's talk then," he says as he excuses me from his office.

I head to my cubicle to lose myself in the office hustle and bustle.  The whispering is rampant.  As I walk along, it's impossible to quiet the panic building in my mind.  Now I feel like I'm about to start crying.  I must not think about it all, as if THAT is even possible.  Who am I kidding?

I struggle to make it back to my desk, and I sit staring at the blank monitor.  I need to be ready to face Jake.  Miserably I take a sip of coffee from the thermos Mom packed for me, and I wonder how I’ll cope with this frightening ordeal.

Rats!!  I spot the clock and hear my co-workers herding like cattle toward the main conference room.  Here we go...the countdown music begins playing in my head.  As my fellow copywriter Mike, holds the door open for me, I gaze at him with a choking panic.  He seems unphased.  He strikes me as the kind of person who would dance through the streets of Pamplona during the running of the bulls.   Boy, I'd hate to see his comb-over blowing in the wind, but that's hardly my concern at the moment.

"Good morning Mike," I say sheepishly.

"Are you ready for the big meeting?  Wonder what they are going to announce?"

"Yeah," I say, taken aback.  I mean, not that I'm the most connected person, but I thought even the dust mop knew that it was getting a new janitor.  Changes are coming.  Just look at this huge conference room.  There are at least a hundred chairs facing the podium.  

"I think this is going to be an interesting meeting," I say nervously, as I follow Mike to the corner seat and wait for the gorgeous man who I licked from head to toe to walk through the door.  He seems like a stranger now, but he sure wasn't the other night. I think of his tongue on my ummmmm....wow, could he make me squirm.  I wonder when he learned to do that.  I mean, good God!  Okay, now I'm starting to flush, and I can feel the blood surging into places it shouldn't right now.  Dammit!

And then, the moment of truth.  OH MY DEAR GOD!  The vision before my eyes hits me right in the stomach like a punch.  That horrible plunge is viler than I even remember.

SCOTT!!!

Jackass!!!  Bastard!!!  Cocky son of a you know what!!!!

SCOTT!!!!  Why is my ex standing directly in front of me and the rest of my coworkers, smiling, and acting chummy with my boss?  What could this possibly mean?  Why is HE here?  Yes, he's a successful managing editor, but he works for Harold’s Publishing.  We haven't worked for the same company since 2010, when we divorced.  So, why is he here with…?

Oh, no!  I can't do this.  I can't even look at him.  It's bad enough when we exchange the kids, but he doesn't belong in MY office.

For a while I stare straight ahead in angry silence.  Then it becomes clear to me exactly what's happening here.  Scott is the new Managing Editor for this new company, and I'm being farmed out to New York City, so it's not "messy."

“Thank you all for being here today," Jim says, and lifts his hand to welcome everyone.

I can see Scott nervously scanning the crowd, and his body freezes when he sees me.  I make a pleasant face and act as reassuring as I can.  If Scott had any idea of my reality right now, he'd be trying to have me committed to a psych ward.

"I would like to welcome Scott Goldberg to our team."

Applause breaks out among my co-workers, yet I feel like a crane should move into the conference room to pick up my hands and make them clap.  That’s not going to happen.  The gut-wrenching memory which I successfully suppressed for three full days begins to resurface.  I see Scott walking in from a business trip, setting his luggage down, and asking me to have a seat at the kitchen table.  He came in to tell me “big news.”  He said he was taking a job with Harold’s Publishing, so we could begin our new lives.

Well, what I supposed to think?  There he was, smiling and telling me he got a new job and we could begin our new lives?  I jumped up with a squeal, and leaped into his lap with visions of luxurious vacations with our kids.  When he pushed me off of him and told me to settle down, I thought he was just being modest about this big promotion.  I began carrying on even more enthusiastically.  I was a supportive wife after all.

Looking back, I suppose it took me longer than it should have to comprehend what he was trying to tell me.  In fact, he had to shake me, although he did apologize for that afterward.  Yes, there were a lot of missed dinners and many, many, MANY months without sex, but I just thought every marriage went through its ups and downs.  Apparently there were a lot of UPS and DOWNS for Scott too, but they had more to do with his inflatable Barbie doll girlfriend than our marriage.

"Scott is coming to us at a very critical time for our company.  We'd like to announce today that he, along with his publishing partner Jake Sterns, are the new owners of Wilshire Publishing," Jim says excitedly.  He begins clapping like a circus ringmaster.

I stare at Scott, frozen in horror.  He returns the gaze, with a look of pride for his ultimate power play.

Wow!  So let me get this through my brain.  My lover, Jake, is not only the new owner of my company, he is also my ex-husband’s business partner.  I’m also being forced to move to New York City, so the company can ignore the enormous ethical conflicts between all of the above.  Splendid!

Something tells me that finding a new job should be number one on my list of New Year’s resolutions.  Now all I see are mouths moving and hands clapping.  I hear absolutely nothing of what's being said.  This has got to be the worst possible moment I could go through.  I mean, I was a relationship columnist and shit like this NEVER came across my desk.  If it had, I would have run through the office like I had the winning lotto ticket.  Talk about gossip.

There's a tense feeling in my stomach that seems to intensify when I thing about where Jake is.  All this time, I worried about the moment I'd have to face him, and now all I can wonder is WHY he isn't here.  Does he know that I'm Scott's ex?

Oh, God.  I can't take it any longer.  The room is beginning to spin, and these mouths are moving faster and faster, like a bad cartoon.  I can't breathe.  A panic creeps over me as I contemplate how I am going to sit still any longer.  In a split second, I am on my feet interrupting everyone, yelling "I've got to leave. I've got to leave."  My voice feels strangled, yet I realize by the reactions around me that I am anything but quiet.

Mike is next to me with a look of concern as I fumble to get past him and his comb-over to make my way to the exit.

"Jillian!  Jillian!  Are you all right?"  I hear him shouting from behind me as I bolt for the door.

I don't even toss a look over my shoulder while I power-walk toward my escape.  I need air.  I must get out of here.  Jake.  Sex.  Scott.  Move to New York.  All the things.  I’ve been trying so hard not to focus on slam through my thoughts.  Desperately I slam them back out again.

I'm running down the hallway now, but there's no one to see my panic.  They all indulged in the “Jillian Meltdown Show" back the conference room.  Finally I spot the exit.  I feel as if my lungs are closing.  I push at the door and wince at the sight before my eyes.  There's a tall, dark haired man on his cell phone with his back to me and he looks suspiciously like Jake Sterns.

This is more than nerve-racking.  As soon as the door swings open, the man looks around.  Right there, to my dismay, is the man who bound me with his silk tie and gave me the strongest proclamation of satisfaction that I ever experienced.  Oh God, he looks just as gorgeous as I remembered in the soft light of the snow covered cabin.  He's wearing an exquisitely tailored dark suit. His hair shines, and his lips look just as perfect as they felt on my skin.  Wow.  What a Christmas Eve that was...

My eyes fall on his, and I feel my stomach flip over.  I'm going to die of panic.  Please just kill me, and do it quickly.  Where is the high-speed chase that mows down innocent bystanders when I need one?

“Hello, Jillian,” he says as he pulls his phone down from his ear.  “I think it's time we talk."  He takes a few steps toward me.

"Oh," I say.  "Yeah, it's been a pretty crazy day..."

As I reach the little step outside the building I feel a stab of nerves, and without quite meaning to, I stop in my tracks.  Shaking uncontrollably, I take a deep breath and ask the million dollar question.

"So...I suppose you know?"  I squint my eyes and look at him hesitantly.

"Know that you are getting transferred to New York?  Know that your ex is my business partner?  Yes, I know all of that...now."  Jake says it all while staring directly at me.

Don't look away.  Don't look away!  Don't show weakness.

"But, I bet there's something you still don't know..." his voice trails off.

I hold the gaze with his dark eyes, and for a few still seconds, we just stare at each other.

"Yes?"  I say nervously.

He studies my face and seems like he can't decide whether to tell me his thoughts.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I think so..." I say impatiently.

"Well, I was going to tell you that I can't stop thinking about our night together in the cabin and how beautiful you are."

"You…you can't?"

Dear God.  I MUST work on these ridiculous comebacks.  There's got to be a book I can buy that will give me some tips on what to say when a man says these kinds of things.

"No, Jillian, I can't.  But, I think it might help if I had a refresher."

A refresher?  He wants to have sex with me AGAIN?  Okay.  This day is just TOO much for me to handle.

I stare at him for a few seconds and then look down at my scuffed black heels, clenching my sweaty hands tightly inside my pockets.  What do I say?  I can't quite believe that this wealthy, brilliant, gorgeous man just told me that he wants to have sex and I haven't jumped him yet.

"Well, you do realize that I'm moving to New York City...now."  I pause and look down again.  "Don't you live in Oyster Cove?  I assume you're only here in Boston for this announcement, right?"

"That's true."

"I see."  I fidget my fingers and feel blood rushing to my cheeks.

He's going to break my heart.  He wants to have his way with me again and leave me like the long line of other women he must have been with.  Maybe just one more night? No!  Absolutely not!  If I do this I will be even MORE screwed up than I already am.

"I'm sure another night wouldn't hurt..."

WTF...Did I REALLY just speak those words?  What on God's green earth is WRONG with me?  Oh, it's just that this man is so perfect.  His hands knew ALL THE RIGHT PLACES…

"I'm glad you agree.  So, tonight then?  What time could you drop by my hotel?" he asks.

"Anytime you'd like..." I feel the corners of my lips lifting toward a smile.

NO SMILING!  What are you DOING?

"Great," says Jake calmly and looks back at me.  "I'll text you my room number.  See you tonight."

And with that, he walks away.  Everything begins spinning, and all I can think about is peeling off his clothes and pressing my…

Mom!  Oh My God, Mom!  What excuse am I going to give her to get out of the house?

Chapter 2: Reality
 

When I turn up at my cubicle, I can't help but feel as if I was just hit by a Mack truck and crushed to a pulp.  I quickly close my eyes and start taking note of all the things that have changed in the last two hours.  There was the meeting with Jim.  Oh yeah, I have to go back in and talk with him.  Then, there was the lovely vision of Scott beaming with pride over his latest acquisition.  Last but not least, not least, there was my meeting with Jake, which I must admit is the best of the three crisis moments this day presented.