Читать книгу Best Friends, Secret Lovers - Jessica Lemmon - Страница 12

Two

Six months later

At Monarch Consulting, Flynn brewed himself an espresso from the high-end machine, yet another perk—pun intended—of being in charge.

The break room had been his father’s private retreat when he was alive and well, and he’d rarely shared the room. Not the case for Flynn. He’d opened up the executive break room to his closest friends, who shared the top floor his father had formerly hogged for himself.

Flynn didn’t care who thought he was playing favorites. When he’d returned home from vacation and become president, he’d outfitted the upper floor with three new offices and placed his friends at his sides. They were a good visual reminder that Flynn wasn’t running Monarch in a vacuum—or worse, a void.

It was his company now. He could do what he wanted. God knew Emmons had been doing it his way for years.

Monarch Consulting was a management consulting firm, which was a fancy way of saying they helped other businesses improve their performance and grow. Monarch was dedicated to helping companies find new and better ways of doing things—an irony since Emmons had done things the same way for decades.

Gage Fleming’s official title at Monarch was senior sales executive. He was in charge of the entire sales department, which was a perfect fit for his charm and likability. Reid was the IT guy, though they fancied up his nameplate to read Digital Marketing Analyst. Sabrina, with her fun-loving attitude and knack for being a social lubricant, was promoted to brand manager, where she oversaw social media factions as well as design work and rebranding.

Flynn stirred a packet of organic cane sugar into his espresso and thought about his best friends’ support of his climb to the very top. They were the glue that kept him together.

“What’s up, brother?” announced one of those best friends now. Flynn turned to find Gage strolling into the room. Gage wasn’t his biological brother, but was worthy of the title nonetheless.

Oh, that I could choose.

Gage’s hair had grown some since Flynn’s father’s funeral. Now that it was longer, the ends were curling and added a boyish charm to the mountain of charm Gage already possessed. Flynn didn’t know anyone Gage didn’t get along with, and vice versa. It made him an asset at work, and he provided a softer edge for Flynn whenever he needed it—which, lately, was often.

“Surprised you’re still upright after the long weekend.” Gage slapped Flynn’s back.

The long weekend was to celebrate the finalization of Flynn and Veronica’s divorce. It couldn’t have come soon enough, but Flynn hadn’t felt like celebrating. His divorce marked an epic failure that piled onto the other failures he’d been intimately acquainted with lately. In no way would Gage and Reid have let the momentous occasion pass by without acknowledgment.

Acknowledgment in this case meant going out and getting well and truly “pissed,” as Reid had put it. And honestly, Flynn had had fun letting go and living in the moment, at least for a weekend.

“I always land on my feet,” Flynn grumbled, still tired and, yeah, probably a little hungover from last night. He should’ve stopped drinking before midnight.

“Good morning, Fleming.” Reid sauntered in next. “Morning, Parker.” Reid had refused to leave his accent in London. He kept it fine-tuned for one essential reason: women loved it.

Where Flynn was mostly an insensitive, shortsighted, hard-to-love suit, Gage was friendly and well liked, and Reid...well, his other friend was a split between the two of them. Reid had charm in spades but also had a rough edge from a past he’d always been tight-lipped about.

Flynn figured he’d tell them when he was ready. At this rate probably when one of them was on his deathbed.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? Three of Seattle’s saddest rich boys.”

Sabrina strolled in with her signature walk, somehow expressing both childlike wonder and sophisticated capability. Her slim-fitting skirt, blouse and high-heeled shoes proved she was 100 percent woman. Sabrina had a fun-loving attitude but liked everything in its place. She was the only one who’d balked at the promotion that Flynn had had to talk her into. She put others ahead of herself often, which was so converse to who Veronica was it wasn’t even funny.

Sabrina saw the world as a sunshiny bouquet of happiness even though Flynn had cold hard proof that it was a cesspool.

“Whoa.” Sab’s whiskey-smooth voice dipped as she took in Flynn. “You look like last night handed you your own backside.” Her eyebrows met the frame of her glasses as she studied Gage and Reid. “You guys don’t look that great either. Were you... Oh my gosh. It’s final, isn’t it? It’s done?”

“He’s single with a capital S,” Reid confirmed.

Her smile was short-lived as she approached Flynn. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

That question right there was why he hadn’t told her about the finalization of the divorce. He wanted to drink away his feelings on the topic, not discuss them.

Flynn sent a glance over her head to Reid and Gage.

Little help, guys?

“You wouldn’t have wanted to accompany us even if we invited you,” Gage said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her frown returned, but she aimed it at affable Gage, which was fun to watch. He finished stirring his own coffee and sent her a grim head shake.

“Darling.” Reid looped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t make us say it.”

“Ugh. Did you all pick up girls?” She asked everyone but her eyes tracked to Flynn and stayed there. “And why wasn’t I invited? I’m an excellent wingwoman.”

Flynn felt a zip of discomfort at the idea of Sabrina fixing him up with a woman—or being there while he trotted out his A game to impress one. He’d suffered a few crash-and-burns last night and was glad she wasn’t there to witness them.

Sabrina pursed her lips in consideration. “Did the evening have anything to do with you three reaffirming your dumb pact?”

“It’s not dumb,” Flynn was the first to say. Family and marriage and happily ever after were ideas that he used to hold sacred. He’d seen the flip side of that coin. Broken promises and regret.

Divorce had changed him.

“You’re single with us, love. Did you want in on the pact?” Reid smiled as he refilled his paper Starbucks cup.

“No, I do not. And I’m single by choice. You’re single—” she poked Reid in the chest “—because you’re a lemming.”

“I’m to believe you’re single by choice,” Reid stated flatly. She wisely ignored the barb.

“A pact to not fall in love is juvenile and shortsighted.”

“We can fall in love,” Gage argued. “We agreed not to marry.”

“Pathetic.” She rolled her eyes and Flynn lost his patience.

“Sabrina.” He dipped his voice to its most authoritative tone. “It’s not a joke.”

She craned her chin to take in all six feet of him and gave him a withering glare that would’ve shrunk a lesser man’s balls.

“I know it’s not a joke. But it’s still pathetic.”

She turned for the coffeemaker and Reid chuckled. “You have no effect on her, mate.”

“Yeah, well, vice versa,” Flynn said, but felt the untruth hiding behind his statement. Sabrina had enough of an effect on him that he treated her differently than he did Reid and Gage. As present as she was in his life, it’d always been impossible to slot her in as one of the “guys.” And in a weird way he’d protected her when he’d excluded her from last night’s shenanigans as well as the skiing weekend. Flynn was jaded to the nth degree. Sabrina wasn’t. He needed her to stay positive and sunshiny. He needed her to be okay. For her own sake, sure, but also for his.

“Heartbreak isn’t a myth,” Reid called out to her as she walked for the door. “You’ll see that someday.”

“Morons.” She strolled out but did so with a twitch in her walk and a smile on her face. Immune to all of them, evidently.