Between You & I Read online

  Between You & I

  Susan Cairns

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Susan E. Cairns

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design: Emma Rider at AWT Cover Designs

  Copyediting: Cassie Cox at Joy Editing

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit my website at: www.susancairnsbooks.com

  For Heather, Madeline, and Penny, my “sister-wives!”

  Cheers!

  #waterfallsofvodka

  Chapter One

  Taylor

  Leaning back on my palms, the worn wood of the picnic table top presses against my skin as my legs dangle off the side. I tip my head back and smile as the warmth of the spring sun hits my face. After the best interview of my life, I deserve to take a minute to enjoy the little things.

  Staying in Buffalo after finishing my MBA and working for Great Lakes Consulting was and continues to be the best decision I could have made. I’ve only been here for a little over two years, but in that time, I’ve moved up two small steps and taken on a load of demanding work that practically guarantees this next promotion. Although I can’t lie and say interviewing for the next step wasn’t nerve-racking, but it went so smoothly, I was waiting for Miranda to offer me the job before we’d even finished.

  Exhaling all of the stress that had built up before my interview, I let out a little giggle as I hear the door creak open behind me.

  “Hey, don’t tell me it was so bad that you’ve decided to take up smoking?” The question comes from my friend and coworker Casey as she stomps over to where I’m sitting.

  “Nothing could ever be bad enough to make me take up smoking. By the way, when are you planning on quitting that shit?” I lower my head to give Casey a look as she jumps up onto the top of the table next to me.

  She shrugs. “Meh, we all have our vices. Smoking’s mine. Not like it’s hurting anyone but me.”

  “Wrong. You’re blowing that nastiness right in my face, and call me a liar, but I’m pretty sure secondhand smoke kills.”

  “Please, you’re the one sitting in the smoking area!” Casey practically shrieks. “So you’re killing yourself if you really think about it.”

  “Whatever, it’s the only picnic table, and I needed a minute and some fresh air.” I lean my head back again, closing my eyes.

  “Does that mean the interview didn’t go well?” she asks with a challenging tone.

  “No, it was incredible! So good that I seriously thought Miranda was going to make me an offer before it was over. Which is why I’m taking a minute to celebrate before I have to get back to the grind.”

  “Is that arrogance I hear? Someone seems a little sure of herself.”

  Sliding my hands against the rough wood, I sit up straight and turn my head to glare at Casey, who does nothing to hide the smug smirk crossing her face. “It’s not arrogance, it’s confidence. Besides, they literally needed to fill this position yesterday, and I already know the job. It’s not like I need to be trained on something I’ve been doing for months.”

  Casey’s expression shifts from challenging to looking confused.

  “Really, don’t you listen when I’m talking to you?” I wait for her answer.

  She waves the hand holding her cigarette. “I try not to, especially when you’re bitching about work.”

  “Bitch, and you call yourself my friend,” I joke, giving her a playful shove that nearly knocks her off the table.

  With a laugh, Casey rights herself. “Whatever, you know I love you, even when you’re bitching.” She takes a drag of her smoke. “So when should we expect to see your name in the placard instead of Lazy Lindsay’s?”

  “Tomorrow. I’m assuming Miranda’s going to announce it right before we leave.”

  “Damn, that won’t give me much time to plan a happy hour. I'm guessing you’ll want drinks to celebrate?”

  “Do you really have to ask? Anyway, it doesn’t matter who comes as long as my work bestie is there.”

  “I see how it is, I’m only good enough to be your bestie at work,” Casey throws back as she pushes off the table to go toss her cigarette. “Because those assholes you grew up with have been so supportive of your career.” She turns to face me, her hands moving to her hips as she glares daggers at me.

  “Well, excuse me, my bestie of everything!” I stick out my tongue at her. “You know what your friendship means to me, Case. Don’t ever think you’re below my ‘other’ friends.” I make air quotes around the word.

  “Just making sure you knew my place.”

  A loud laugh breaks through my lips. “Like you’d ever let me forget! Now get your ass back to work,” I say as I slip my feet to the ground and stand from the table.

  “Don’t get all power-trippy on me. You’re not the boss yet.”

  Casey takes the lead, moving across the small patio area to the door. She pulls it open with a squeak then waits for me to pass by. On the way back to my cubicle, I look at the empty office Lindsay used to occupy and notice Miranda removed the name tag from the placard. Seeing that, knowing it was there before I walked outside, adds to my confidence, making me almost skip the rest of the way to my desk.

  My chair is facing the door to my cube, probably where it stopped spinning after I got up to go meet with Miranda, so I plop down and spin to face my computer. Before waking the dark screen, I push the button on my phone, bringing the screen to life and revealing a text notification from my mom wishing me luck. I want to text back that it’s in the bag, but I know my mom and she’ll tell me to reel in my cockiness. So I ignore the text for now, making a mental note to give her a call on the way home. It’s probably bad luck to be so sure of myself, but when you know things are going your way, you just know.

  Seven hours later, I’m still waiting. Since just before eight this morning, I’ve been waiting for Miranda to make me an offer while I alternate between chewing my nails off and clicking my pen to the beat of my heart. I’m surprised no one has noticed how on edge I am. At this point, I’m so nervous I don’t think I could even make the short walk to Miranda’s office without tossing my cookies.

  A meeting notification pops up on my computer with a “ping,” and I nearly have a panic attack. Miranda wants everyone to gather for a quick meeting in fifteen minutes. I expected this, but not before I got an offer. I’m not naive, I know this isn’t looking good, but I’m still holding out hope. Not that Miranda’s the kind of boss to spring something like this on anyone in front of the group, but you never know; there’s always a first time.

  After hitting send on the e-mail to one of my small business accounts, I spin my chair toward th
e opening of my cube. I suck in a deep breath before hurling myself up on shaky legs and taking the few steps from my cube to our usual meeting place. Standing quietly with my back barely touching the half wall behind me, I watch the rest of the group slowly form a circle around the room. No one seems to have an expectant look on their face, which is good. That means no one else is waiting with the same hope I am.

  “Taylor!” Casey calls across the circle, her hands cupped around her lips to emphasize her whisper-yell, then she gives me a thumbs-up.

  In between glancing at the clock on the far wall to my right and craning my neck to look around the corner at Miranda’s office door, my armpits start to sweat. My body heat is rising to the point that there’s probably a slick glow across my forehead. I look at Casey for some reassurance. Nodding, she shoots me a bright smile. I crush my teeth together, pressing my lips into a thin line. It’s the best I can do at the moment.

  I haven’t talked to her since lunch, so she has no idea Miranda hasn’t talked to me. As far as she’s concerned, I’m still in the running, and right about now, that’s making me feel worse. I should have said something. If I had, she’d be over here holding my hand and telling me not to give up hope. Instead, I’m attempting to calm my nerves by studying the nasty floor where the carpet tiles have started to lift from wear. Swallowing hard, I force the barf ascending my throat back down. This isn’t nerves, not anymore; it’s the realization I didn’t get the job.

  Catching movement out of the corner of my eye, I lift my head in time to see Miranda approach the group. She’s far enough away that I can see her face, but close enough to make me even more frazzled.

  “Is everyone here?” she asks, her calm tone doing nothing for my anxiety. Someone must nod because she continues. “As you all know, Lindsay left us a little a couple of weeks ago. In an effort to not disrupt our clients too much, we’ve been in a crunch to find someone to fill her position.”

  Trying to maintain my composure, I lift my head and lock eyes with her for a second.

  “And I’m happy to announce we’ve found someone I think will be a great fit for the clients, as well as Great Lakes Consulting,” she pauses just long enough to amp up my anxiety. “His name is Reid Mariano, and he’s coming to us from a marketing group just outside of Chicago.”

  I shake my head, thinking I didn’t hear her correctly, but she doesn’t stop or backtrack.

  “Even though I have all of his specifics, I’m going to wait and let him share his background with you. But one thing I will do is guarantee you that he more than lives up to the quality service we provide. He’ll be here Monday morning, and after we run through all of his paperwork, I’ll let him tell you about himself.” Miranda claps her hands together. “All right, twenty minutes left and then you’re free. I hope you all have a fantastic weekend.” Miranda gives one more encouraging clap before turning around and heading back to her office.

  While everyone around me starts moving back to their desks, I stand there with my feet cemented to the floor, staring at where my boss was just standing.

  “What the ever-loving-fuck just happened?” I whisper to myself, not quite comprehending that I was passed over for a job I’ve been doing for months. While Lazy-ass Lindsay did absolutely nothing. Not to mention she gave the position to an outsider! Someone who doesn’t know a damn thing about the company or our clients. What was the point of even interviewing me? Clearly Miranda already had made her decision before she met with me because I can’t imagine she would offer the position to someone on a Friday and expect them to start the following Monday.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Casey’s harsh words pull me back to the present. “I thought it was as good as yours! Did she say anything to you?”

  “Uh, um… no, my interview was perfect. I seemed so sure that she was going to make me an offer. Then I waited all day today and nothing,” I answer without even looking at Casey, still focused on the empty spot where Miranda had stood.

  “I didn’t even see her interviewing anyone else, did you? And who is this guy anyway?”

  The anger in Casey’s voice gets my attention finally. Turning to look at her, I see rage on my behalf in my best friend’s face, and I can’t hold it back any longer—tears well up in the corners of my eyes.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t, uh, see anyone either, but I guess there must have been?” I ask, even though I’m not expecting an answer.

  “I’m so sorry, Tay. I seriously thought we’d be jumping up and down celebrating right now.”

  “Don’t. I’m not going to let this upset me. I guess it’s just a little bump in the road. There’ll be other positions, and when they come up, I’ll be more than ready for them,” I say with all the confidence I can summon, giving my head a little shake to clear the wetness in my eyes.

  “Whoa, okay, so I get that you’re all ‘I gotta get back on the horse’ and whatnot, but take a minute to be pissed off, you deserve it.” Casey gives me a pointed look, moving her hands to her hips.

  “Case, don’t you see I never had a chance? Miranda picked this guy before she even interviewed me.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Come on, who in their right mind would accept a job on Friday that they start the following Monday when they have to move halfway across the country.”

  “I see your point, kind of makes you wonder why Miranda’s such a bitch, getting your hopes up when she had no intention of hiring you.”

  “Right,” I say, nodding my head once.

  “Which only means instead of getting drunk to celebrate tonight, we’ll get drunk and shit talk our boss, so don’t try to crap out on me!”

  “Oh my god! You didn’t send out the e-mail inviting everyone to happy hour, did you?” I ask, my eyes bugging out.

  “Are you kidding me? No, of course, I didn’t. But it is typed up and ready, so I could turn it into a ‘Reid Mariano can suck it’ celebration if you want.”

  “No, I don’t need everyone knowing about my failure.” I turn back toward my cube, wanting to sit down and bury my face in my hands.

  “Seriously, Tay, that shit needs to stop now. You’re not a failure.” Casey follows me, staying just inside the door to my small cubicle as I sit down facing my dark computer screen. “You’re freakin’ younger than me, you have your MBA, and at twenty-five, you’re in a pretty comfortable position with an up-and-coming company. So no, you are not a failure. If anything, you’re an inspiration.”

  Straightening my back I turn and look at Casey. “I’m not an inspiration to anyone.”

  She leans her hip against the empty part of my desk and leans down, closing the distance between our faces as she looks right into my eyes. “You are to me, whether you admit it or not. You’re the one who made me want to go back to school and finish my degree. You made me give a shit about this job. That is what someone inspiring does. Now, take”—Casey drops her eyes to her watch, then returns them to mine—“the next fifteen minutes to wallow in your sadness, because as soon as we leave this building, there is nothing but hate drinking and causing trouble.” She follows that with her stone face and her left eyebrow cocked. “By the way, we’re dropping your car off at home. I’m driving tonight.”

  “You’re not drinking tonight?” I ask skeptically.

  “I’ll have one or two, but tonight is about you and making you forget about the shit day you’ve had. Who knows, maybe we’ll find some willing hotties to help with the forgetting.” She winks then turns on her heel and marches right out of my cube.

  Rolling my chair back, I look down the hall, watching Casey head to her desk. “I think your expectations for Fran’s are a little high, friend.”

  “Spring break is over. Hottie college guys need to drink and forget that finals are coming up. I have high hopes.” She winks at me again before dipping into her own cube.

  Shaking my head, I can’t help the smile that my best friend put on my face. I roll back to my computer, bypass wakin
g it up and grab my phone instead. I might as well get the whole let-the-parents-know thing out of the way. I’m sure my dad will offer some encouraging words along the lines of, “You’ll get em’ next time Tay. You’re the brightest bulb there, they just haven’t realized it yet.” But my mom, she’s going to tell me I was too cocky, and knowing that has me skipping the dreaded phone call to type out a short, but sweet, text.

  The smell of stale alcohol and bleach assaults my nose as soon as I clear the door to Fran’s. It’s early, just a little after five, so the bar is mostly empty. Only a few regulars sit along the worn wooden bar that runs down the left side of the room. But like Casey said, spring break is over, so we know it won’t be empty for much longer. First the after-work crowd will head in, then when they’re heading out, the college students will take their place. Right now, neither group sounds appealing to me.

  Heading toward the bar, I pull my light spring coat from my shoulders then hang it over one of the high-back stools while Casey slides into the one next to me. Before we have a chance to pick up the drink menu from the bar top—to see if anything new, exciting, or in Fran’s case, unusual was added in the last week—Fran is coming toward us, rubbing her hands on a bar towel. She’s in her usual attire of tight mid-wash jeans with a half-buttoned green-checked flannel showing an ample amount of cleavage, which only helps with the tips—or so she says.

  “Hey, girls, long time,” she says sarcastically in her gravelly, pack-a-day voice. Despite seeing Casey and me at least once a week, she makes that comment every time we come in.

  “You know, Fran, I’m starting to think you miss us during the week. Maybe Tay and I should add a mid-week drinking binge to our schedule.”