**SNEAK PEEK - Worth the Risk **

CHAPTER 1-Taylor

Five years earlier…

“I think we both know this interview is merely a formality.” 

I smile politely at Dawson Metzler, one of the three named partners at Metzler, Dodson & Dodson, a prestigious firm I’ve been interning at during law school. One of the big three in Chicago that any lawyer would kill to work at, let alone a first-year graduate. 

“Well, I appreciate that vote of confidence, Mr. Metzler, and I really cannot thank you enough for allowing me to intern here. I feel like it’s been an invaluable experience that has prepared me greatly.” I attempt to keep my response open-ended because as amazing as this opportunity is, I can’t shake this feeling like I need to take a leap of faith now while I’m young and comparably more dumb than future me. 

It’s a known fact you’re more likely to take risks when you’re younger, especially risks that you don’t have the hindsight to understand yet. And maybe that’s just a glorified way of looking at ignorance on my part, but I guess I’d rather live with consequences than regret. 

“You’ve been a very valuable asset here, young lady. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we are excited to see where your career takes you.” The smile that takes over his plump face is a bit unnerving, with just enough smarmy lawyer energy to make a tingle run down my spine. “But I won’t take up any more of your time.” He grunts when he stands, his round belly getting in the way as he pulls himself up from his chair. 

“Thank you again, very much, and I appreciate all of the sound advice and wisdom you’ve given me over the years. Dodson and Dodson as well.”

“You’re already wise beyond your years, young lady.” He extends his hand toward me and I slip mine into his. He grasps it with both of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “And whatever job you end up taking, just make sure you enjoy some downtime before jumping in. This career has a tendency to take over your life if you’re not careful.”

Out of the three named partners, Mr. Metzler has always been my favorite. He’s kind but has an edge he isn’t afraid to show if the situation arises. He’s always ready to teach me how or why instead of just showing me or doing the work for me. I truly am sincerely grateful for the opportunity I have had to not only attend a first tier law school, but to then intern and possibly get a job offer from a top-tier firm. But there’s something inside me… something gnawing at my gut that tells me that while this job might set me up for life, it will never scratch that itch I’ve always had to work with a startup. And if there’s one thing I’ve had drilled into me over the years from every lawyer I’ve met, it’s that if you start out at one of the big firms, the money will suck you in before you even realize it. Any altruistic dreams of helping out your fellow man with pro bono work or getting your hands dirty with a smaller company will go out the window the second you see that first paycheck.

The city whizzes past me as I sit in silence on the train, the conductor’s voice ringing out the next stops overhead as we approach the station. A few people stand and exit the car that’s almost empty, not too rare considering it’s the middle of the afternoon on a workday. I turn my gaze toward my phone, flipping mindlessly through videos on social media. 

“Please stand clear. The doors will be closing,” the pre-programmed announcement rings out like it does every time. The doors begin to close with a whoosh but not before someone runs through them in a blur, making it just in the nick of time. I look over at the man who smiles back at me. 

“That was close.” He chuckles, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He lets out an audible exhale, running his hands through his disheveled hair before taking a seat a few spots down from me.

I give him a considerate smile before turning my attention back to my phone, a video of a cat tilting its head in all sorts of funny directions as it tries to figure out what exactly a bumblebee is, making me smile. I scroll through a few more videos, the algorithm sending me more funny cat videos and random hidden gem videos around Chicago, something I’ve started taking note of now that my nose isn’t buried in books, prepping for the bar. 

I continue scrolling mindlessly until I’m hit with one of my favorite types of videos. A slow sexy sound pumps quietly through my speaker, my finger darting to lower the volume as a man in a suit yanks his tie from his shirt before covering the camera for a second only to reveal he’s shirtless in the next photo. I’m completely engrossed in my screen; I don’t even notice the strange man on the train looking at me. 

“Hi.” I glance up at the man who’s now smiling at me. His gray suit coat is draped over one thigh that extends impossibly long over the edge of the train seat. I look behind me, then back at him. “Yes, you.” He laughs. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I offer a single wave of my hand awkwardly, unsure if I’m making a huge mistake by engaging with a complete stranger on the train… alone. I’m about to tell him I’m really not interested in joining whatever religion he’s in or supplement he wants me to buy when he continues on.

“How’s your day going?” His smile seems genuine and not creepy. I glance down at his shoes, then notice his watch. Neither are outrageous luxury brands, but they’re nice enough, so I’m surprised to see him riding the train. Usually, men who look and dress like him are the ones climbing out of the back of sleek black sedan in the financial district. 

I shrug. “Okay, I guess. Could be either really good or really bad.”

His brow arches. “Meaning?”

“Well, if you’re insane and here to kill me, then really bad, but if you’re not and I get the job offer I’m expecting after my interview earlier, then really good.” He lets his head fall back as laughter erupts from his chest. It fills the car, echoing around us. 

“I promise you I’m not interested in killing you—or anyone for that matter.” 

“What about you—how’s your day going?” I’m not sure why I’m continuing the conversation. Maybe because his good looks and charming smile have actually disarmed me or maybe I’m just desperate to talk to anyone so my brain stops spinning in circles.

“Well…” He runs his hand down his smooth jaw like he’s considering my question. I take advantage of the small pause, taking in the rest of his handsome features. His long fingers tap gently on the knee of his clearly expensive suit. I wouldn’t say it’s custom but absolutely tailored and made with quality materials, not off the rack. During my time surrounded by some of Chicago’s most wealthy at Metzler, Dodson & Dodson, I learned to spot high-end from a mile away. 

“I guess either really bad… or really good.” He leans back into the seat, looking carefree and relaxed. I give him the same questioning look he gave me a moment ago, encouraging him to explain. “I just got fired from one of—actually, thee”—he emphasizes the word by punching his finger—“top financial firm in Chicago.”

“Oh.” I can’t hide my shock. “I’m sorry. I guess that is really bad.”

“Could be.” He smiles, his sparkling white teeth framed by the most perfect lips I’ve ever seen on a man. Full, even with just a hint of pink. “Or it just might be the start of something that’s going to completely change my life.”

I don’t hide my skepticism. “Are you about to sell me one of those self-help courses where you go to an overpriced conference in an old Las Vegas casino and all practice saying yes to yourself?”

He laughs again, the deep tenor making me feel a little tingly surprisingly. 

“No, not at all. And I’m not a toxic positivity person either. I was fired because I discovered that the firm was essentially skimming off the top of their biggest client.”

“And they fired you for that?” I’m fully invested in this stranger’s drama now, ignoring how odd it really is to just start confiding in someone on the train.

“Yup. Turns out, when you tell the client and show them proof instead of letting the higher-ups handle it as they promised to do when I sent them the information a few weeks ago, they don’t like that. So, here I am, unemployed with a fucking target on my back the size of the city.”

“You seem pretty upbeat for someone in your situation,” I say with a touch of sympathy. “Do you have a backup plan?”

“I guess you could call it that.” He turns his body so he’s facing me, his arm slung over the row of seats between us. “But the reality is I’ve always dreamed of opening my own firm. I mean, who doesn’t in the financial world, right? You have more freedom to take risks with your clients when you’re the boss, and then there’s the obvious financial gain—you actually get to keep your full commissions instead of splitting them with management. But for me it’s always been more than a want.” His eyes drift away from mine like he’s lost in thought. “It’s a craving, like I know I’m meant to do it.” He looks back at me. “You know what I mean?” 

I swallow the lump in my throat that’s formed. It feels like he’s speaking directly to my soul. Like he’s heard every conversation I’ve had with myself about whether or not I should just take the easy way out and take this job if it’s offered to me. I get an overwhelming feeling like the universe or God or maybe a long gone relative sent him to me to hear this message. “Yeah, yeah, I really do, actually. So, you’re going to take the leap and start your own firm?”

“I am.” He nods his head like he just confirmed the decision right here and now. “That client I mentioned, he was so grateful he told me he would follow me wherever I end up next and I would be his new financial advisor. He also said he would bring over his friends. So while it’s become a backup plan, it was always been my plan A to start my own firm and work for myself. I guess I just took the longer way around.”

“Wow.” I let his words simmer for a few seconds, studying his demeanor while I try to figure out if he’s still in shock or just this self-assured with his life. “I don’t think I’d consider it the long way around. I mean, you look pretty young so I imagine you’re still ahead of the curve.”

He chuckles. “Thank you for the inadvertent compliment.”

“How are you going to start it, though? Isn’t it crazy expensive to do something like that?”

“Yes, but I planned ahead. What kind of financial advisor would I be if I didn’t manage my own funds first?” He winks at me. “I’ve had to invest in myself in this job”—he points to his wrist—“the watch, nice shoes, and a few nice suits, but otherwise, I’ve saved pretty much everything I’ve made outside of my bills… which I’ve kept well below my means over the last few years. It’s also why I take the train; it saves money. I have no kids, no wife, and no reason not to take this risk.”

Jealousy hits me right in the chest. I want to have that attitude. I want to take the risks.

“It sounds like you’ve got everything figured out for next steps.” 

“What about you?” he says, standing up and walking toward me. “The interview this morning, is it your dream job?” His arm extends and he rests his hand against the metal bar above my head so that he’s looking down at me. The other hand slides into his pants pocket. He looks effortlessly sexy, his hair hanging down slightly over one eye, a few buttons undone on his dress shirt. He looks just like those sexy booktok guys I drool over whenever I’m feeling too overwhelmed in the real world and need to escape to social media.

“Dream job?” I snort. “I’m not sure I have one of those but it’s definitely a huge opportunity. Like a set you up for life kind of opportunity. A you’d have to be a complete idiot not to take the job kind of opportunity.” I add the last part as an audible reminder to myself. Maybe if I say it out loud to someone else, they’ll confirm that passing up a job like this would be the mistake of a lifetime and I am a moron for even considering something else. 

“That sounds like a dream, then.” He smiles and it makes my stomach do a little flip the way he’s looking down at me. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m a lawyer—well, I’m licensed and passed the bar, but I’m an unemployed lawyer at the moment.”

He whistles. “Damn.” Then he steps back a few inches to look me up and down. “Yeah, I can see it,” he says with a lazy grin. “You’re lawyer material for sure.”

“What’s that mean?” I feel my spine stiffen in defense and my shoulders square.

“Nothing bad.” He laughs, taking a seat next to me. “You just look very polished and put together, like you could walk into a courtroom right now and deliver the closing arguments in a high-profile case without missing a beat or breaking a nail.” The warmth spreading up my neck and cheeks tells me what I already know—I’m blushing. “And you’d win.”

“Is that a complimentary way of saying I look uptight?”

He laughs again. “You’re really funny, you know that?”

“Thanks.” I smile, letting him think that I actually am that funny and not that uptight about being… uptight. 

“But I get the feeling you’re not excited about this huge opportunity you mentioned.” His gaze stays focused on mine like he’s reading me. Instead of the urge to lie to him and dismiss the conversation quickly so I can move on with my day, I find my usual uptight demeanor relaxing. 

“You would be correct.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“Would you believe me if I repeated your same speech about doing your own thing back to you?”

“Ah.” He leans back in his seat. “So your dilemma is going to be following your heart.” He looks over at me. “Or following your head.” I nod. “I imagine for an intellectual like yourself that’s hard?” I nod again. “When do you expect to hear back from them?”

“Tomorrow probably. What about you? When will you know if that client was serious?”

“Tomorrow probably.” He shrugs and laughs which in turn makes me laugh. “I’m Austin by the way.” He leans over and extends his hand toward me. “Austin Blake.”

“Taylor Harrington.” I shake his hand, our fingers lingering briefly before we separate. “Nice to meet you, stranger on the train I just had a weird heart-to-heart with.”

“My pleasure.” He bumps his shoulder against mine and for a brief moment, it’s like we really are friends, maybe old acquaintances that reconnected or long-lost lovers. “This is my stop.” He nods his head toward the doors before standing up and reaching into his pocket. He produces a small white card and hands it to me. “You know, I could really use a lawyer as I start up my own firm, someone to come on board and hold my hand along the way.”

“Oh yeah?” I take the card from him, my fingertips grazing his softly. I glance down at it to read his name embossed in simple black letters. “I just happen to be specialized in corporate law and financial services.” 

“Please tell me you’re fucking with me?” 

I smile and shake my head. “I love statistics and numbers and I had actually planned on studying actuarial—well, never mind, that doesn’t matter. Bottom line”—I wave my hand in frustration at my own nervous chatter—“I had better odds getting a good lawyer job in finance than insurance.”

His smile only grows wider, like he’s just as invested in my path to financial law as I am. He reaches his hand out and just barely grazes my chin. “You know what this is, Taylor?” He winks. “This is fate. You know that, right?” 

“And what if I get the job offer from this other firm?”

He gives me a different smile this time, more of a half smirk that tugs at one corner of his lips. It’s sexy, something I imagine he’s used on women in bars over the years and it probably has a very high success rate. Apart from his looks and his approachable, easygoing manner, the man has a body like an athlete wrapped in a fitted suit. 

“Then I can take you on a date instead.” 

He doesn’t give me time to reply, just tosses his suit coat over one shoulder and walks off the train. I let my gaze follow him, finding myself gnawing on my bottom lip as I watch his ass in those pants before the train pulls away. 

***

“I’m sure you were expecting this call.” Dawson Metzler’s wheezy laugh follows. “We would be more than happy to have you join our firm, Miss Harrington. Human Resources, of course, will be reaching out with details, but I wanted to be the one to call and congratulate you.”

My chest feels tight as I squeak out a response. “Thank you, sir. I-I don’t know what to say.” 

He assumes I’m overtaken with excitement, I’m sure, but I’m not lying. I have no idea what to say. I hardly slept last night thinking about the conversation with Austin. I flipped his card over and over in my hand, debating if I should call him and say I’ll do it, I’ll be his lawyer. 

“Listen, before you say anything, I meant what I said about taking some downtime. I’ve let HR know there’s no timeline on your start date. You tell them what works for you.”

“Thank you.” I sigh, grateful for the time this buys me but still no closer to making a decision. 

“We can’t wait to have you on board.” He doesn’t offer any pleasantries after his comment, just the faint click of the line going dead letting me know he hung up. 

I jump up from the couch and grab Austin’s card from my nightstand where I left it. Then I look down at my phone in my hand and think of Noah. Sweet, kind Noah who told me that if I get the job, I should absolutely take it. Then proceeded to tell me all the risks I’m taking if I were to walk away from an opportunity like this. 

“You could seriously destroy your reputation in the lawyer space, especially with this firm. Do you really want to risk that?”

“I’m sure they’d be understanding,” I tried to explain. “I wouldn’t just not show up. I’d explain everything to Mr. Metzler.”

I close my eyes for a brief second, then I type out a quick message and hit send before I can talk myself out of it. 

Me: Hey, girl from the train here… how’d things turn out?

My heart thuds in my chest as three little bubbles appear, dancing across the screen as he types out a response. 

Austin: Hey, guy from train here… come over for a drink. We’ll discuss.

My mouth falls open when a second later, his address pops into the text box. A giddy little feeling sizzles in my belly as I type out a response.

Me: Is this the part where you kill me? What time?

Austin: Now and no, I’m smart enough not to leave a text trail. ;)

I imagine him saying that last part with his charming smirk and that sexy wink he tossed at me yesterday and my smile grows wide. Then I notice the time.

Me: It’s 3:00 p.m.… Little early for a drink?

Austin: Last time I checked we’re both unemployed… I think we deserve it.

I laugh, jumping up from the couch and heading to my bathroom to try and revive my unbrushed hair and add a touch of makeup. When I get to my closet, I’m suddenly overthinking everything. 

Is this a date? He said he wanted to ask me on a date. Was that only if I didn’t get the job? I got the job, though, so it’s not a date then… unless I don’t tell him I got the job… But what about Noah? 

“No.” I snap myself out of it. I promised myself last night that if I end up not taking the job and working with Austin, that is a line I don’t want to cross with him. As hard as it would be not to…

I decide on a simple button-down blouse and my favorite jeans. It says effortlessly chic with zero implications of anything more. I add my usual jewelry pieces and slip on my Tory Burch flats, grabbing my purse and heading over to meet up with a stranger I met on a train.

CHAPTER 2-Austin

“Hi, train girl.” I smile down at Taylor like an idiot. 

“Hi,” she says back, her voice a touch breathy. 

“Would you like to come into my murder pad—I’m sorry, I mean my apartment.”

She laughs and it’s sweet, if not a touch nervous. 

“I would have nobody to blame but myself at this point,” she adds, stepping over the threshold and into my apartment. I take her purse, hanging it on the hook by the door. “Nice place.” She shoves her hands into her pockets as she looks around for a second before settling her gaze on me. 

Her blue eyes look even more pronounced than they did on the train. A stark contrast to her pale skin and wavy strawberry-blond hair. 

“Part of my smart financial plan.” I tap my temple. “A small, relatively inexpensive place that has everything I need in a safe area and right next to my train stop. Can’t beat it.” I lean against the kitchen island, Taylor switching her hands from her front pockets to her back pockets. “You seem nervous.”

She shrugs. “I’m still coming to terms with the fact I’m in a strange man’s apartment whom I met twenty-four hours ago.”

“You don’t date?” I push off from the counter, grabbing two wineglasses from the cabinet and the bottle of wine I put in the fridge earlier. 

“I mean, I do—kind of. I just started dating again actually, but I don’t go over to their house on the first date.” I glance up from pouring the wine to see her face flush pink. “Not that I think this is a first date. I just meant I don’t—when I do go on dates…”

“I understand.” I smile, handing her a glass. “No one-night stands or random hookups with strangers. Certainly safer.”

She takes a small sip and sighs. “That’s so good, thank you. What about you? Lots of strange women seeing your place after less than twenty-four hours?”

“No.” I chuckle. “My dating life consists of me working till ten p.m. in a cubicle farm most nights… or did rather.”

“Ah, yes, to unemployment.” She lifts her glass to mine and we cheers before taking another drink. “Any more decisions regarding starting your own firm?”

“Let’s have a seat.” I nod toward the couch and she follows me over, taking a seat on the cushion farthest from me. “So, the client called me this morning.” 

Her eyes grow wide like she’s just as excited as I am. “And?”

“He said, and I quote,” I lower my voice, attempting to recreate the same gruff tone, “‘let’s get this goddamn ball rolling, son. What the hell are you waiting for? The sun to shoot out your ass and tell you to pull the trigger? Start the damn firm and make me more money.’”

She laughs at my impression, her eyes sparkling. “Holy shit, that’s amazing. Congrats! What are the next steps?”

“I’ve spent all morning looking through office building rentals. One of my college buddies, Craig Nelson, he’s really up-and-coming in the corporate real estate world so he’s helping me navigate all of that. But get this. That’s not even the biggest news. He told me two of his business partners want to move over to my firm starting day one.”

“Austin.” She shakes her head. “This is huge.”

“I know,” I say, smiling at her. It feels weird to be sitting across from someone you don’t know, sharing the biggest news of your life, but at the same time, she’s the first person I thought of when I got the call this morning.

“Can I be nosy?” she says, interrupting my train of thought.

“You want to know who the client is, don’t you?” 

“Guilty.” She laughs. 

“Newt Chambers.”

Her face goes white. “The Newt Chambers? The guy who owns half of Chicago and has his name on an entire wing of my law school?”

“The very one.”

“Oh my God.” She stands up. “Austin, this is bigger than huge… and he wants to bring over two business partners? Are they also whales?”

“Elizabeth Zellner and Kip Mortimer.”

“So the media mogul and the real estate baron of Chicago as well.” She finishes the rest of her wine and slowly sinks down onto the couch. “This is—this isn’t just a chance to start your own firm, Austin. This is life-changing.” She keeps her gaze forward, her mouth hanging slightly open like she’s thinking through something. “Why’d you tell me? Why not call your parents or friends or anyone besides a stranger from the train?”

“You’re the first person I thought of when he called.” She turns to look at me. “Felt like a full circle moment and honestly, I should be thanking for you yesterday. For listening to me. I was running on adrenaline and probably a healthy dose of fear after walking out of my office unemployed, but I don’t know.” I shrug again, feeling like an awkward teenager. “You were great and it felt like we were meant to meet. Am I an idiot?” 

“No.” Her expression shifts, like she not only gets what I’m trying to say but feels the same. “I appreciated our talk too. I’ve been in my head a lot lately with finishing school and my internship and yeah… turning into an adult is kind of a bunch of bullshit.”

We both laugh at that, agreeing that while it has its perks, growing up is often overrated. 

“What about you? I’m sorry. I’ve been word vomiting all over you about this whole thing, but did you hear back from your interview?”

“Refill?” she asks, reaching for my glass as she stands up. 

“Sure.” I hand her my glass that isn’t empty yet. “I’ll take a top off.”

I watch her walk to the island, pouring the wine and bringing her glass to her lips to take a healthy sip. 

“How old are you?” she asks, clearly ignoring my question. I make a note to ask her about it again later, but it’s clear she’s not in the mood to discuss it now. 

“Twenty-eight.” I stand up and make my way toward her. “You?” I reach for my glass of wine and bring it to my lips. 

“Twenty-four.” She nods, not saying anything else. 

“Why?” Notes of citrus linger on my tongue from the wine. I place my glass on the counter and take the few steps around the edge where Taylor is standing. 

“Just curious.” She shrugs, her fingers clutching her glass. 

I reach my hand out and take it from her, placing it on the counter beside mine before turning back toward her. Her throat constricts as I see her swallow and her eyes shift back and forth like she’s trying to anticipate my next move. 

There’s something about her… besides her drop-dead gorgeous looks and killer body. Something that makes me want more. To know her more. To feel her, touch her… kiss her. My eyes drop to her pouty lips, my hand coming to rest against her waist as I close the distance between us. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say softly, my hand pulling her against me as I start to walk us backward toward the wall. “Am I worth the risk?”

Her hand rests gently atop my arm, the warmth of her fingertips against my bare skin causing my cock to stir. I question if I’m reading the look on her face correctly, but there’s no denying the heavy-lidded look of lust on her face. 

Her back hits the wall and I tilt my head, bringing my lips toward hers when her hands are suddenly against my chest, stilling my movements. 

“I didn’t get the job,” she blurts out. 

“What?” 

“They passed on me. I didn’t get it.” My fingers dig into her waist, my others against the wall behind her. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I feel like an ass for going on and on about my good news. No wonder she looked so conflicted on the couch earlier. She was probably trying to hide her own disappointment while I was celebrating.

“Do you still need a lawyer?” she says with a little laugh, and my hands still on her body.

I groan which turns into a laugh because I know what she’s going to say. “I very much need a lawyer, especially one like you.” 

“Then we probably shouldn’t…” 

“Yeah.” Reluctantly, I release my grasp on her, stepping away to take a few deep breaths and redirect the blood flow away from my cock. “You’re probably right.” I drag my hands down my face, my back toward her as I try to refocus my thoughts. 

“So… business partners it is, then.”

I turn back around to look at her, her skin still flush with desire, her shirt askew from where my hands were gripping her. She looks sexy, a touch undone, and I have this overwhelming desire to say fuck it and pull her to me again so I can taste her lips.

“Business partners.” I smile, holding my hand out toward her.

CHAPTER 3-Taylor

Present Day…

“Where’d you get this couch again?” Austin groans, settling back into the love seat in my office. “It’s so comfortable.” His legs stretch out long and wide in front of him, his body in a heavily slouched position. He runs both hands through his wavy hair before leaning his head back and closing his eyes, just like he does every Friday around the same time. 

“For the hundredth time,” I half mumble as I flip through an endless stack of papers in front of me, “I found it online, someone was selling it.”

“That’s not code for I found it on the street, is it?” His nose scrunches with the question.

“No. I just said someone was selling it. It’s an Audo Copenhagen.” He stares at me blankly. “It’s a ten-thousand-dollar couch I got for less than three.”

“Damn.” He picks at a piece of lint on the cushion before smoothing his hand over the cream material. It’s the same couch I’ve had for almost a year and at least once a month he comments how comfortable it is. “I need to have you help me furnish my place. Not only do you have good taste, but you know how to find the best deals.”

“It was just a casualty of divorce. I’m not particularly good at finding sales. Hey.” I look up from the current contract I’ve been buried in for the last few weeks. “Did Tyson end up signing with us? I didn’t see anything come across from my de—”

“You know the rule,” he interrupts, lifting his hand, his head still back with eyes closed. “This time is sacred.”

“For the record, I never agreed to your rule. You decided that Fridays at 4:30 p.m. in my office was a no-work time for you. I don’t have that privilege.” I try not to let the evidence of my failed relationship seep into my work life but lately, I can’t deny that it’s taking a toll on my mood.

“You have a paralegal and an assistant. I believe I’ve told you more than once to hire on a second attorney so that you can have a better work-life balance, but you’ve chosen not to.”

“Well, if you’d stop bringing in rich assholes with insane amounts of money to manage, I wouldn’t be so stressed.” A smile splits his lips, his eyes still closed as he chuckles. “And hiring another attorney won’t fix my work-life balance; we both know that. It’s a control thing.”

“Then what will?” He eyes me. “Besides removing the giant stick up your ass which we both know you’ve come to enjoy.” When I don’t give him the response he’s looking for, he presses further. “Fine, maybe being in a relationship with a man that doesn’t make you want to work late all the time.”

“Excuse me?” I glance over the papers in my hand. 

“Oh, please.” He finally lifts his head with a huff. “Nothing will at this point; you’re a workaholic and we both know it.”

“One of us has to be.” I smile dryly, returning my attention back to the file in my hands.

“Why not finally get that kitten you’ve always wanted?”

I furrow my brow in sadness, Noah’s constant empty promise of adopting a cat with me another one of those carrots he’d dangle in front of me if I wasn’t home enough or performing as I should have been as a girlfriend.

“Maybe.” I shrug.

Since we started this wealth management firm five years ago, it’s grown at a rate that neither of us expected… even if Austin likes to pretend he knew it would happen. We’ve brought on an entire team of financial experts, moved to a high-rise office building in the middle of The Loop in the financial district of Chicago, and become one of the top firms in the city. 

“You know, when I met you”—I glance up to catch Austin looking at me—“I thought you were just uptight because you were stressed about finding a job.”

My shoulders drop, my hands drifting slowly back down to my desk. I’ve always been uptight, he knows that, but lately it’s been even worse. Clearly, he’s picked up on it and while I had hoped I would be able to compartmentalize my professiona life from my personal life which is falling apart… I’m failing. 

“And here I thought that’s what you love about me, my uptight status quo.” I offer a genuine smile, sitting back in my chair as I swivel to face him. “One of us has to be the neurotic one so that the other can be the easygoing, charming one.”

“Charming, huh?” He props his arm behind his head, his stomach flexing beneath his shirt. “After five years”—he winks—“she still thinks I’m charming.”

My eyes want to linger, to notice the way his belt sits perfectly at his hips. To imagine that view from above him, his hands on my waist as his voice drops to that sexy, rich tenor that may or may not make my knees go weak.

“Me, obviously. You’re the neurotic one,” I say, rolling my eyes which in turn makes him laugh. That same loud, unapologetic laugh he let out on the train car that day we first met. 

“Well, if you ever need to relax and let loose, I promise I can step up and be neurotic for you.” 

“I’ll take a look at my schedule and let you know. I might be able to squeeze in fifteen minutes of relaxation somewhere next month.” I reach beneath my desk, pulling off my newest pair of Christian Louboutin Athina heels and let them fall to the floor. 

“I don’t know how you women do it,” he says, nodding toward my shoes. “Don’t your feet hurt?”

“Of course they do.” I shrug. “But I don’t buy them because they’re comfortable, I buy them because they’re stunning and they make me feel like a badass when I wear them.”

“You are a badass.”

“Well, we know that, but I have to make sure the men that walk through that door,” I say, pointing toward my office entryway, “know that because they like to think I’ll be impressed with the size of their portfolio. So I like to remind them that I wear heels bigger than their dick.”

His smile widens as he shakes his head. “Fuck me, I love you.”

It hits me, right in my stomach every single time he says that. Delivered with the same cadence, same laugh, usually always right after I’ve said something particularly snarky. 

He stretches one arm out as he sits up, reaching for one of my shoes. He picks it up, running his thumb along the edge. “You have incredible taste, though, that’s for sure.” I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking as he stares at the heel, his thumb still dragging so slowly along the insole. “What was the occasion this time?” 

“What?”

His head tilts, a curious smile on his face as he looks at me. “You always show up in a new pair of Louboutins whenever something’s happened. First day of work after we started this firm you showed up with a new pair. Different than the ones you said you bought yourself after graduating law school. And then that time the girl screwed your hair up”—he flashes me a grimace—“after I convinced you to get a bob.” He gingerly places the shoe back on the floor after gesturing with it. “So, was it good or bad this time?”

He noticed that? 

A silly little tradition I didn’t mean to start for myself when I graduated. I saved for three years for my first pair, promising myself that the day I signed on with my first big firm, I’d buy my second pair. Well, I never signed with a law firm, but I did buy my second pair when I met Austin. And the hair situation… well, that was a nightmare I had to distract myself from so after my tears dried and I learned a few in between hairstyles I could pull off as my hair grew out, you bet your ass I bought my pair of fancy fucking shoes. 

My breath catches in my throat, making me cough slightly. Even though we clicked the second we met and our business relationship has turned more into friendship, I forget just how much time we spend together. How deeply we’ve come to know one another whether through words or noticing little habits and routines like this.

I debate on telling him, on finally saying the words out loud. 

Noah and I broke up. 

A fact I haven’t told anyone yet besides my best friend Becca, but I can’t make myself say it. It’s still fresh, too new, and I really don’t feel like crying about it anymore. Not only because Noah doesn’t deserve my tears but also because it’s been four months; it’s time I start focusing on myself and stop living in the past. I gave him almost five years. He doesn’t deserve another second. 

A thought I keep reminding myself of when I find myself yet again crying on the shower floor or in my closet after a particularly long day. 

“Bad,” I say with a shrug, my eyes staying focused on his so I don’t seem too upset. I know if I looked away or showed how upset I still am, he’d be asking me twenty questions to get to the bottom of it. That’s what Austin does, rushing in as the white knight to try and make everyone’s problems go away. 

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nope. What are you doing this weekend?” I change the subject. “Any hot dates?"

“Actually.” He smiles. “I have a first date and I’m pretty excited about it.”

“Oh?” There’s an unpleasant flick of something in my stomach. Austin goes on a lot of first and second dates… maybe not a lot but enough that it’s rare if ever that he gets excited about a first date. “I thought you were seeing Penelope? Is that her name?”

“Was,” he corrects me, “and we went on a few dates. It was nice but neither of us felt a connection so on to the next.”

I scrunch my nose at the sentiment. Not because I’m judging but because I wish for one damn second of my life I had that kind of attitude. Had I really analyzed my relationship with Noah after even six months, I’d have seen that we weren’t right for each other, but I wanted it to work. 

I needed it to work. Because he was the one I chose. The one I thought was my happily ever after while Austin was the business risk. At least that’s what I convinced myself back then. Noah was safe. He wanted the white picket fence and the family in the suburbs. He wasn’t making risky business decisions and charming random women on the subway. 

That excitement I felt when Austin first spoke to me on the train, his bold outgoing personality was doing exactly what he had crafted it to do. It pulled me in. And somewhere along the way I told myself that excitement and intrigue like that don’t last forever. 

“And the new date, where’d you meet her?”

“Running the lakefront. She’s a lawyer too actually—said starting her morning with a vigorous workout has been life-changing.” Stupidly, I feel a pang of jealousy when I have no right to because I’ve blown off Austin’s invites to go running for years, claiming I have no time as an attorney when the reality is, I could have made time like she does. 

At first my excuse was born out of a general hatred for running. I had tried to pick it up in college, even joining a few classmates in a running club once a month for several weeks, but it was never my thing. But as time has gone on, even if I had been interested in joining him, it wasn’t worth the fight it would likely cause with Noah. And lying to him about it was out of the question. 

“What does she look like?” I regret the question as soon as I say it. It sounds jealous, no way around it, but he doesn’t seem to hear me because he doesn’t answer me. He sits up with a smile, like he’s replaying the memory of meeting her in his head. 

“I had just finished a quick few miles and was watching the sunrise when she stopped to watch it with me. We made small talk and exchanged numbers so I’m taking her out tomorrow night.” 

“That’s romantic.” My heart flutters because it really does sound like the beginning of a movie. “Two strangers sharing a single moment between just them in the middle of a huge city. Sounds like true love if you ask me.” I wriggle my eyebrows at him, making him laugh. 

“You know”—he glances down, smoothing his hand over his flat stomach—“some people would say that about how we met.” When he looks back up at me, he has that smirk. The one that’s always managed to snake its way into my thoughts and wrap itself around my brain, squeezing any rational thoughts from it at the most inconvenient times—like right now.

“Oh yes.” I join him in laughter, shaking my head as if it will dislodge the thought of him. “I forget how romantic the train can be. The smell of stale urine and ever-present threat of being accosted if it’s just you and someone else in the car.”

His smile fades, his laugh tapering off too as his gaze drifts from mine. “Yeah, I guess you’re right; it wasn’t the most ideal setting when we met. What about you? Noah whisking you away for some romantic weekend getaway? Or hey, maybe even a date if he’s feeling generous?” His tone has an edge.

“Austin…” I don’t have to verbalize what he knows I’m going to say. What I always say to him about Noah. “I’m really not in the mood today.”

We’ve had this conversation before over the years, more times than I care to count actually. And while deep down I know Austin is right, that I shouldn’t have had to beg and fight tooth and nail with my boyfriend to take me on a date or spend some quality time with me, I don’t think I’m ready yet to face that reality. To accept the fact that a man I loved, a man I gave everything to over the last several years cared so little about me. And even harder to swallow… I stayed.

“Right, because it’s never a good time to ask your partner for the bare minimum.” I stare at him with a pleading look. “Anyway…” He pushes himself up from the couch. “I will let you get back to burying yourself in work like you do every weekend.” He pauses when he reaches the door, his eyes finding mine again. “You know, Tay, you can’t use being a workaholic as an excuse for someone not spending quality time with you if they’re never actually trying to spend time with you. At some point, you’re giving them an excuse so that you don’t have to face the reality of their priorities.”

It’s a good thing he closes my door behind him because giant tears start to drop one by one from my eyes onto my desk. I wipe at them furiously, anger building in my chest at the truth of his words. 

Then that thought creeps into my brain… the one I’ve had before but pushed aside the second it entered my head. The thought I won’t allow myself to consider because the risk is too high. 

The thought that has secretly haunted me for years. 

The thought that has tormented me with guilt every time I’d look into Noah’s eyes.

What if I had chosen Austin five years ago?