Crushed Read online

  I’m relieved when another face I remember appears in my sight line. Matt walks toward me with a big smile on his face and a pretty brunette on his arm.

  “Jessica Adams? Shit! I haven’t seen you in ten years!” Matt practically yells as he embraces me in a huge bear hug.

  “Hi Matt!” I can’t help but match his enthusiasm. “But it’s Rogers now.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” His mouth twists into a frown. It’s so quick I almost miss it. “I’m glad you’re here. This is my wife, Rachel.”

  Rachel extends her hand to me. “So nice to meet you, Jessica. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Nice to meet you too.” I grasp her hand and wonder why she has heard about me. After Luke and I started dating, I spent most of high school hanging out with him and Matt. After we ended, so did my friendship with Matt. His family moved from the neighborhood while I was away at college, and I completely lost contact with him. Luke and Matt were very close in high school, so it’s possible they are still friends. Based on the reaction I received from Luke, I doubt I’m the topic of any conversation he’s been having though.

  I enjoy catching up with Matt, and Rachel is lovely. The interaction gives me time to recover from Luke. I catch a glimpse of him from time to time. He’s always engaged in some lively conversation and drawing the attention of women congregating nearby. He appears to be here alone though.

  The night continues with lots of small talk with people I half remember. We politely ask about each other’s careers, spouses, and kids. We wonder aloud what happened to those not in attendance of this awkward event. I was hoping to see Karen tonight. I owe her an apology for not keeping in touch after high school. A tall man named Chris, who I remember from my biology class, mentions she moved to Alaska with her husband about a year ago. I’m about to ask him if he knows anything else about her, but I’m interrupted when Donovan boorishly bursts into our group. I never did care much for him and his class clown antics.

  The biggest success of the evening is my ability to avoid Luke. I’ve kept an eye on him throughout the evening, so I know he’s still here. I’m thankful I haven’t had to endure any more uncomfortable interactions with him, even ones across the room.

  After a couple more drinks and an enjoyable conversation with Sarah, our class president, I decide this isn’t as painful as I thought it may be. I let my guard down, and I’m not paying attention when a girl I know from eleventh grade drama class drags me over to a group of people to say hello. Shit! Standing opposite me is Luke. He stiffens and presses his lips together. I stare before I have time to think better of it. Because of his earlier reaction, I expect him to be hostile, but all I see is a flash of pain before he looks away.

  The group chatters on, about what I have no idea. I can’t focus on the conversation. Luke has grown unusually quiet.

  “Jessica, so sorry to hear about your divorce.”

  The mention of my name captures my attention. A short blonde whose name I can’t remember is standing next to me. She isn’t wearing a wedding ring, and there is something about the way she says it that makes me wonder if we have something in common we wish we didn’t. I nod and smile at her. I have no idea how news of my impending divorce has traveled so quickly. I only mentioned it to a couple of people after they specifically asked me about my marital status. Apparently, the gossip mill hasn’t died down at all during the last ten years.

  “I’m divorced too. Was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through.” She places a hand on my arm.

  “It’s certainly not fun.” I give her a small smile, wishing she would stop talking. I don’t like speaking about my divorce, but I can tell she’s being sincere with her empathy, so I maintain my politeness.

  She leans into me. “I wore my ring for months after too.”

  “Oh…yeah.” I avert my eyes. I don’t wear my ring all the time anymore, but I thought wearing it tonight would help avoid uncomfortable questions. It seems silly and pathetic now. To make matters worse, I can feel Luke’s eyes on me.

  I glance at the blonde, and she offers me a nod of solidarity. She is kind enough to turn her attention to someone else. I make it a point to pay attention while she asks others about their jobs and where they are living these days. Someone addresses her by name. I regret I didn’t remember her name is Rebecca before.

  “Luke Taylor, handsome as ever,” she says when it’s Luke’s turn for questions. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you two used to date?” Rebecca has connected dots I wish would have stayed unconnected. I don’t dare look at Luke. I don’t want to see how he has reacted to the question.

  “A long time ago. Excuse me,” I answer and turn to walk away before Luke can say anything that would hurt or embarrass me.

  Overall, I would call my reunion experience a success. I enjoyed most of it and survived being around Luke. Seeing him brought back too many feelings, good and bad. Luke is handsome and overwhelming and completely off-limits for me. Before Grant, there was Luke. Different but similar. Men who initially made me feel safe and loved. Men who both took pieces of me with them when my time with them was done.

  I want those pieces back.

  Chapter 2

  The next couple weeks at work are busy. We’re completing a quarter end, and as the controller, I have increased responsibilities to manage beyond my regular duties. In addition to completing financials, the management team is still searching for investors for the winery where I work. The market in Temecula continues to grow, and we want to be able to compete well into the future. The good thing about me being overloaded at work is that it makes it difficult for me to find time to overanalyze the reunion and my interactions with Luke.

  I’m exhausted by the time the weekend arrives. Grant was supposed to help Amelia with her school project last weekend, but he made up some lame excuse about not having enough time. We’ve only been separated for a few months, but I can already tell he’s going to be a Disneyland Dad. He picks Amelia up every other Friday from school, takes her to the movies, dinner, and theme parks, and then brings her home Sunday to a boring mom who makes sure her homework is done and that she eats her vegetables. It makes me angry, but mainly sad. I worry our relationship will be affected because I don’t get to be the fun parent anymore. Cleaning the house and helping Amelia with her final report for the year will dominate the entire weekend.

  The word “help” may be an understatement. She has a report about her favorite dinosaur to complete. She picked a pterodactyl. We’re halfway through answering her list of questions when I realize a pterodactyl is not even really a dinosaur, but a flying reptile. I try to explain this to my daughter and convince her to change her subject. I’m potentially reading too much into the instructions for a first grade report, but I can’t help it. My attention to detail is a blessing and a curse. I think about it this way: I’m either teaching Amelia a valuable lesson on the importance of fully reading directions, or I’m giving her something to discuss with her therapist in twenty years. Only time will tell.

  An hour later I know more about a brachiosaur than I ever hoped to, and Amelia is whining she wants to eat dinner. I prepare a quick meal of pasta with butter and parmesan cheese. I also cook green beans. I bribe her with ice cream for dessert, so she eats them and it makes me feel like a better mom. After we finish, I help her draw a brachiosaur. She is frustrated and tired, so I draw the outline for her and she colors it in. I should have her do it, but I don’t think helping her draw a dinosaur will affect her education too much. At the end of the evening I’m convinced that homework is a secret plot designed to test parenting skills. If you can survive elementary school homework, you’re deemed fit and ready to tackle the teenage years.

  Monday morning comes too soon. I drag myself out of my large comfortable bed. One of the benefits of sleeping alone is I can make my bed how I want. When Grant and I were first married, I made up our new king-sized bed with an extra
-soft feather topper, high-thread-count white sheets, and a beautiful white down comforter. These were wedding presents from my grandmother, and I loved them. After several months, Grant informed me he couldn’t sleep on the soft feather bed and the down comforter was causing him to feel too hot in the middle of the night. My beloved bedding went into the linen closet for years, until I finally sold them at a garage sale. One of the first things I did after I moved out was order the most luxurious bedding I could find.

  I arrive at work a little later than usual after helping Amelia carry her large brachiosaur drawing into school. The winery is already buzzing with barbacks stocking the tasting bars and housekeepers preparing the grounds for the day’s visitors. I spot Ryan, the winemaker, checking various gauges as I walk through the tank yard.

  “Good morning, Ryan.” I wave as I hurry toward my office.

  “Morning Jess!” Ryan yells across the alley of tanks. He is sometimes flirty with me, but he’s careful not to cross that line into being too pushy. We attempted to go on a date about a month ago. My one and only date since I left Grant. He took me to a local restaurant and knew how to order wines to complement the day’s specials. It was a delicious meal, but it felt as romantic as dinners with my mom. After that night, I knew Ryan and I could never be more than friends, that there was something missing between us. We talked about it and both agreed.

  Ryan is a good guy, the kind of guy I should want to be with. Ryan is smart and handsome, but I think his talent is his most attractive quality. Most people don’t realize how science and art must be balanced to make remarkable wine. Ryan’s vast understanding of the science of winemaking is impressive, but his devotion to his craft is what sets him apart as a winemaker. He loves wine and wants everyone to appreciate it the way he does. He always takes time to explain different aspects of the process to me. Sometimes the scientific terminology goes over my head, but his passion is infectious, and I enjoy hearing him talk about it. He deserves a woman who will appreciate what he has to offer. Unfortunately, as a couple we lack that extra spark.

  I arrive at my office and am greeted by a big box of baked goods. I love my assistant, Linda. She’s more than an assistant; she’s become a friend. A friend who is keeping me from losing my breakup weight by bringing in sugary treats every Monday.

  “Good morning, Linda.”

  “Good morning.” She is already running around our little office, getting paperwork ready for the week.

  “It’s going to be a busy one. I need to finish up the quarterly management reports.”

  “You also have a meeting this afternoon with more potential investors,” she reminds me.

  “Right.” I grab a banana muffin from the box. “How was your weekend?”

  “It was good. Too short.”

  “Always is.”

  “Did you finish your dinosaur report?” She has a smile on her face. She knows from raising three kids of her own that school projects never belong only to the kids at this age.

  “I did. I got all my homework done,” I reply, only half kidding.

  I tell her about my weekend and the pterodactyl dilemma. She says I’m overthinking it and I admit she’s right. She spent the weekend visiting her oldest child in LA. She has a new story about the newest addition to her daughter’s “zoo” as she calls it. Her daughter is an animal lover and has adopted several special-needs pets. I’ve heard so many stories over the years, and Linda tells them with such a dramatic flair that we end up laughing so hard our stomachs hurt. I’ve heard about a lizard with diet restrictions requiring specially prepared meals, a dog who likes to steal the cat’s food, and a bird who could speak, but only said sexually explicit words. We laughed all afternoon one day guessing at who the previous owner of the bird was. The newest addition is a hairless cat who wears sweaters to stay warm. We work hard, but I like that we make our day fun too. Our office is at the back of the property in a portable unit, so our fun doesn’t bother anyone.

  After catching each other up on our weekends, we jump into our job responsibilities. My day is full, so I inhale my microwave pasta lunch while I continue to work. When I glance at the clock, it’s already three in the afternoon.

  “Your meeting is at three-thirty, Jess,” Linda reminds me.

  “Right. I need to take these to the tasting room.” I grab the stack of reports off my desk.

  “I can take them up,” she offers.

  “That’s okay, I could use the walk,” I answer, halfway out the door.

  The tasting room is crowded with people enjoying wine and conversation. A young couple laughs and touches each other as they talk. They aren’t wearing wedding rings, and I assume by the way they are interacting with each other that they haven’t been dating long. They seem completely enamored, too fascinated with each other to be further along in their relationship. The man catches me staring at them, and I quickly look away. I feel like I was intruding on an intimate moment even though we’re all standing in a crowded room.

  My embarrassment turns to clumsiness, and I trip over one of the raised wooden planks of the tasting room floor. I drop the papers and catch myself on a display table nearby. I feel the blush coming to my cheeks as I bend down and hurriedly gather them. I grab the last paper and brave a glance to see who has noticed my mishap. To my relief, the patrons haven’t taken any notice of my awkward display.

  Relief is replaced by confusion. Familiar eyes watch me from across the room. Luke is involved in a conversation with a gentleman in a suit, but his smirk is directed at me. Every part of me freezes, except for my panicked heart. This isn’t good. He’s only looking at me, and it already feels like the earth has tilted.

  I shift my reports to one arm and run my free hand down the side of my dress. I walk as quickly as I can, while trying to appear like I’m not hurrying, over to our cashier station. I hand the papers to our new employee. She hasn’t been with the company more than a week, and I can’t remember her name, but she is young and eager to prove herself.

  “Good morning, Jessica. I was wondering if you would mind walking me through these reports? I really want to learn more about the business side of things.”

  I’m finding it difficult to focus on her, but I can sense her interest is genuine. I would normally enjoy the opportunity to do some mentoring, but not right now. “I’m sorry, but I have to be in a meeting in a few minutes. Come by my office tomorrow and I can go over some things with you.”

  “I don’t work tomorrow.”

  “When do you work next?” I glance around the room, tapping my foot rapidly. I don’t see Luke anymore.

  “I work next Monday.”

  “That should work for me. Give a call when you get in, and we can try to set something up.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  “No problem.” I rush to the door. Someone calls my name, but I pretend I don’t hear her. I can’t get stuck answering questions when Luke is standing in there. I reach the door. I don’t get the opportunity to breathe a sigh of relief though. As I step through it, I’m face to face with the one I’m running from.

  “Shit!” I say before I catch myself. I remember where I am and correct myself with a more professional response. “Sorry, excuse me.”

  “Hi Jess. I saw you trip. Are you okay?” Luke appears more amused than concerned.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine.” I anxiously glance around for the person who just called me. I would be happy to answer any questions she may have. I pick up the scent of his cologne. He smells earthy and musky.

  “Are you sure? You seem a little frazzled.”

  I resent the fact that he appears to be enjoying my discomfort. I also resent that my pulse quickens when he directs his attention at me. “Just a busy day at work. How are you?” My attempt to sound casual is completely out of place between the two of us.

  “I’m good. I saw you and wanted to say I re
gretted not getting the opportunity to talk at the reunion.” His smile sends a flood of warmth surging through me.

  “Oh, that’s okay. What are you doing here?” I blurt out the thought dominating my mind.

  “I’m meeting a business associate.” He leans in, his eyes focused on mine. “Jessica, it’s good to see you. And when the time is right, I’d like to speak with you.”

  I want to ask him what he means by “when the time is right,” but I don’t get the chance. He strides past me, back into the tasting room.

  Chapter 3

  After Luke is safely behind the solid tasting room doors, I power-walk back to my office. This, coupled with the adrenaline of seeing him, leaves me breathless and discombobulated.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Linda stares at me with wide eyes.

  “Just saw someone unexpected in the tasting room.” My phone rings. “Hello, this is Jessica,” I gasp.

  “Hi Jessica. It’s Mandy from up front. AL Investing is here for your meeting.”

  Mandy, that’s her name. I also forgot about my meeting for a moment. What’s the name of the gentleman I’m meeting with? Aaron? I need to pull myself together.

  “Please show him to the conference room in the back building and let him know I’ll be with him in a couple of minutes. Thanks, Mandy.” I hang up. I’m usually not so short with employees, but I only have a few minutes to wipe the sweat off my forehead, gather my wits, and grab the documents and charts I need to present.

  This is an important meeting. Aaron contacted me personally, indicating interest in investing in a winery. His name wasn’t on the list of investors we originally contacted. When I asked how he heard about us, he said that our contact information had been given to him by a colleague. The winery owner, Mrs. Bianchi, has been meeting with private investors over the past six months. She has big plans to expand and grow the company, but hasn’t been able to find the right capital. She’s hoping to find someone who shares her passion and sees her vision, not merely someone to serve as an open wallet. Mrs. Bianchi couldn’t attend this meeting and has entrusted me to promote the winery as a good investment. I’ve given this presentation so many times over the last few months, I don’t really need to prepare, but I can’t go into a meeting in my current state. I take deep breaths while I gather up my reports.