Chapter 1
Tessa
You are beautiful.
You are smart.
You are loved.
You are going to do amazing things.
Doesn’t matter that you’re a little weird sometimes. And maybe you could use a haircut, but that’s okay.
Also, you have this thing you do when you’re upset—your eye kind of tics, and you should probably see a doctor, but again, totally fine.
Dating might be a good idea too. It’s been like two years since you’ve been on one and really, it’s time.
I lean toward the mirror.
“Are those wrinkles on your forehead?” I ask myself as I stare at my reflection. I sigh. “I really suck at this whole morning affirmations thing.”
My roommate Brianna chuckles as she leans against the doorjamb, eating a yogurt. “What nonsense did you tell yourself this time?”
I turn, resting against the sink. “I start off well and always go off the rails. I need a haircut, by the way.”
Brianna is an up-and-coming stylist who just got her first gig working for a huge brand during fashion week. She’s going to do amazing things, which means at some point, I’ll never get her to fix my hair.
She comes up close, lifting the brown strands and letting them fall. “Yeah, we’ll do that tomorrow. Can you come into the salon after work?”
I nod quickly. “Yes, put me on the calendar!”
If she doesn’t, she’ll take a client and I’ll never get in.
“Fine. Tomorrow at seven.”
I nod once. “Thank you.”
“As always, you are most welcome.”
Brianna dips her spoon into her yogurt. As I open my mouth to ask her a question, I hear a deep groan coming from the room next to me.
Great. She brought another guy home.
She always gets some and I keep getting none.
“Where did we meet this man in your bed?” I ask.
She grins. “He’s a model. We were doing some test work…”
“Bri, it’s not a good idea to sleep with the models before the event,” I say, immediately slipping into publicist mode. “After, fine, but not before or during. You have to be professional.”
Brianna gives zero fucks and rolls her eyes. “He’s from another company. Relax, Mom.”
I guess that’s a little different. “I’m just looking out for you. You worked so damn hard for this job.”
“And I promise, I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll be the good little angel like you are.”
I’m not an angel. I mean, I can break rules. Maybe. I haven’t really yet, but I could. “I could be reckless and put myself out there,” I tell her.
She smiles as she approaches me and pats my cheek. “Sure, you can.”
I hold back a deep huff. “I need to shower and get to work.”
She grins. “Have fun, honey bunch.”
This time I let that huff fly, and she giggles.
I quickly shower, and since we only get maybe four minutes of hot water, I have it down to a science. You have to love tiny apartment living in New York City, right?
I leave Brianna and Antonio, who made a groggy introduction and is way too freaking pretty, and head into the Anchor Light office. Each time I walk through the doors, it’s like the best moment of my life. I love being a publicist and to have been hired, right out of grad school, to work at a company like this? It’s everything.
Anchor Light Corporate is a newer sub-office with a very small staff of intelligent women. The co-owners, Brynlee and Thea, are both supportive and have great visions for the company. I work most closely with the senior publicist, Aarabelle Dempsey.
The atmosphere is warm, supportive, and endlessly inspiring.
As soon as I step in, though, the energy is different.
Aarabelle spots me. “Conference room, right away,” she says, her voice clipped.
“Okay,” I say quickly, my heart rate jumping a bit.
We don’t really have immediate meetings, or at least we haven’t since I started. Something must be going on.
I walk to my desk, toss my stuff down, and rush in just as Aarabelle is sitting. The team is gathered around the table, and the phone speaker is in the middle. Brynlee is supposed to be on maternity leave, but her voice fills the room. “Everyone there?”
“Yes,” Thea says as I sink into an empty chair. “Go ahead, Brynn.”
“I know I’m not supposed to be working and all that, but we have an issue with one of my clients who is a real estate mogul. I don’t have much information on what’s going on, but it seems urgent, and our presence is needed.”
“Where is the client located?” Aarabelle asks.
“Boston, but they are out of town so someone would need to meet them,” Brynn explains. There is some noise on her end of the line before she returns to the call. “Sorry, the baby was fussing. The client is in Ember Falls, Virginia.”
Aarabelle jumps in quickly. “I can do it. I’m from Virginia, and I have most of your clients assigned to me while you’re out.”
Disappointment fills me. I also have some of her clients. I push down my own feeling of failure and decide to speak up. Closed mouths don’t get fed, as my best friend used to say. “I can also go if it’s one of the clients you have me handling.”
Thea smiles. “We have two eager publicists, and I think they both could do it, just depends who you think would work best with the client.”
“Okay, let me think…” Brynn says as she soothes her son who is fussing behind her with shh-ing noises.
I wait with bated breath, hoping so much that they’ll ask me to go.
“As much as I agree, both Aarabelle and Tessa can handle it, I think it would be best to send Aarabelle.”
Aarabelle glances at me, and I force a smile.
Yes, I would’ve loved to have had the chance to do it, and I know I can do it, but I understand the decision.
I’ve only been here a few weeks and I don’t have a ton of experience, but man, I wanted a chance to prove myself.
“Whatever Aarabelle needs, I’ll be here to help,” I say, tamping down my disappointment and working to sound helpful.
“Thank you, Tessa. I promise, your time is coming,” Brynlee says quickly. “You both are truly talented and capable.”
“There’s no need to explain,” I assure her.
The last thing I want to do is come off ungrateful for the opportunity to work here. Anchor Light is a well-respected company. Originally, they started off working out of California with celebrities. Catherine Cole is the owner and has allowed Brynlee and Thea to buy into the company to start a corporate subdivision, which gives us a huge advantage as Catherine’s contacts are extensive and her name is respected.
We leave the meeting, and while Aarabelle is running around, getting her client folders in order so that I can help her manage while she’s out of the office, I also help get travel arrangements set for her. Lodging in that town is a bit of a risk since there are literally no hotels within forty miles, but I do my best with a short-term rental I found online.
“Thank you, Tessa. You have no idea how much this helps,” Aara says as I give her a folder with all the travel details she’ll need.
“Of course.”
“Walk with me? I need to get home to pack since it’s a ten-hour drive.”
I smile and fall in line with her. As we head down to the lobby, she sighs. “I tried to get permission to take you, but with Brynlee out, we really need you here.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t think,” I say quickly, shaking my head, but I stop when she places a hand on my arm.
“I remember being a junior publicist and it sucks. Especially because you’ve already shown how great you’ll be. Which is why, while I’m gone, I really need your help as I’m really deep in one project and, according to Brynlee, helping her client is my sole responsibility.”
“Whatever you need.”
“I’m in the middle of two company launch proposals. One is a relaunch of a clothing line that flopped before and no matter what anyone says, the owners are absolutely sure it will take off. Can you maybe take a look at it and give me some notes?”
I nod. “Not a problem.”
“Thank you. I’ve tried, but I’m telling you, this is going to be a dud and I can’t do a damn thing to save it. The other is the museum we just signed—they’re having a big gala in about a week. All the plans are laid out, but I need you to get all dressed up and attend. It’s black tie, and fancy. I assured my client I would be there, arranging the press and making sure we get them the attention they deserve. I think you’ll do really well.”
“I can do that,” I assure her.
We exit the lobby, standing on the busy New York City sidewalk as people shove and move around each other, heading to wherever they’re going.
“Oh, I know you can, and so do Thea and Brynlee. When I said I needed to offload these, they were absolutely on board with them going to you,” she says with a warm smile. “You’re a natural at this, you know that, right?”
I don’t, but I appreciate her telling me that and mentally add it to my list of affirmations.
“Thank you,” I say instead of my natural instinct to deflect any kind of praise. Lord knows I didn’t grow up hearing any of it.
“All right, I’ll see you in a week or two,” Aarabelle says.
She turns and right as she does, I swear, her life flashes before my eyes. Her heel gets stuck in a crack and a bicyclist is coming right at her.
“Aarabelle!” I scream.
Her eyes widen for a heartbeat before she lets out a loud noise, but it does nothing to stop what comes next.
The cyclist turns his wheel to the left, but she goes that way as well, causing him to slam right into her.
Aarabelle goes down, slamming her head on the pavement—hard.
“Oh my God!” I scream and drop, trying to help her.
Her hand goes to her head and she moans.
“Aara?”
“My head,” she croaks.
She tries to move, but then lets out a scream so loud I feel it in my bones.
“Don’t move!” I say quickly.
Aarabelle grabs at her leg and…well…that is definitely not the way it should look.
I immediately call 911, and the ambulance arrives quickly. Aarabelle is howling in pain through the entire ride.
We spend three hours in the hospital where it’s determined that Aarabelle has broken her leg, which will require surgery, and suffered a concussion. I call Thea to give her the update. She inhales deeply and then lets it out.
“Okay, you have to go.”
“What?” I ask, unsure what she’s referring to.
“Well, Aarabelle can’t travel, and we really need someone on the ground in Ember Falls. You go down there, handle the situation, and then come back.”
I blink, my heart beating so hard as reality hits me. This is it. My big break. Maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words since…you know…Aarabelle did break her leg, but this is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“Are you sure, Thea?” I ask.
“Are you saying you can’t do it?”
“No!” I say a little too aggressively. “I mean…no, I can handle it.”
“Good, then that’s what you’ll do. Go pack a bag and get to Ember Falls. We’ll email you all the details before your meeting tomorrow.”
Ember Falls is a tiny little town out in the western part of Virginia. It reminds me so much of my small town in Indiana. The streets are wide and homes are speckled around the countryside. More than anything, it’s the smell of the air.
It’s like a fresh breeze on a warm day. A mix of pollen, some animal scents, but mostly trees and sunshine.
After I left the hospital, I headed straight home, packed a bag, and got on the plane. I landed in Virginia, rented the car and made the four-hour drive to Ember Falls, yawning the entire time. I made arrangements for Aarabelle to stay in a room above a store. I call ahead to explain I’ll be coming instead, but that only makes the woman who owns the place even more confused. As I hang up, I take a deep breath and assure myself I’ll sort it out once I get there.
I enter Ember Falls through the Main Street area and I can’t help but think how absolutely picturesque it is. There is a coffee shop, a pizza place, an ice cream shop, and a bar and grill at the end of the street. It literally looks like something off a postcard.
I find a parking spot outside of the antique store that I’m renting the room from, park, and head inside.
“Hello?” I call out, standing at the front desk of the store.
“Hello?”
I peak my head around the side of the back wall. “Yes, is Miss Thornberry here?” I ask.
“Who?” The elderly voice replies from a distance.
“Miss Thornberry?”
“Yes.”
Yes, it’s her? Or yes, she’s here? “I’m Tessa Rivers. My coworker, Aarabelle Dempsey, reserved a room.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know an Aarabelle.”
Of course not. “No, I know that,” I say quickly, trying to move around the store that is almost impossible to navigate. There are things everywhere. Furniture, knickknacks, stacks of old books, picture frames hanging off the furniture. It’s a maze. “Aarabelle is the name that room is rented under.”
“You want a room? I’m sorry, I rented it already.”
I clear my throat. “Miss Thornberry? Can you come out here?”
I have finally reached the point of no return in this store.
She sighs heavily, and the most adorable woman—who reminds me of my grandma—comes out to the front. Her gray hair is cut short with big curls, exactly like Granny had hers done at the beauty parlor—as she called it—every week.
“Oh, hello, I’m Mrs. Thornberry.”
I flash my winning smile. “Hello, I’m Tessa. My coworker, Aarabelle, rented your room earlier this morning. She got injured and I’m here instead. I called to explain, but I think our connection was bad.”
Her eyes flash with recognition. “I see, and you’re staying for a week?”
“Yes, a week at a minimum. You mentioned that you might be able to extend the stay if needed?” At least that was what she said when I booked it.
Aarabelle also asked me to meet with another client who is local to this area, Penelope Walker, who is launching a rebrand of her interior design company.
I’m not sure how long things are going to take. I don’t expect these assignments to need more than a week. Therefore, I plan to blow them away and for these clients to be absolutely impressed with my professionalism and ability to get things done quickly. They’ll immediately tell Brynlee and Thea that I’m a delight and they want to work with me exclusively.
I doubt that’s going to happen, but hope is never a bad thing.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
“Sure, Dempsey, I can do that. Strange name to give a girl,” she mutters, digging in a drawer. I don’t correct her because that is a conversation I don’t need to have right now. She hands me a key. “Here you are, dear. Just head up the stairs on the right.”
Since there’s only one set of stairs here and there’s no clear path to them, this should be fun. I somehow manage to navigate myself to the stairs, climbing over and under more pieces of furniture and knickknacks than I can name, and get my bag upstairs.
This place is…old.
There is a dresser that could be from the 1800s with paint peeling off the front. There is a twin bed in the middle of two windows that the center looks like it’s touching the floor as it sinks—great. And the room has a strange musty smell to it.
I place my bag on the bed, which squeaks very loudly, and walk over to find the bathroom area.
Oh my God. It’s pink.
Like bright pink tiles everywhere. The tub is pink. The floor is pink. The countertop is…yup, pink.
I didn’t even know you could have a bubblegum pink toilet, but here it is.
And that musty smell from the bedroom? It’s stronger in here.
Great.
Suddenly, I’m hoping I can get this job done even faster because staying here is going to be a freaking nightmare.
However, I can do it. I’ve endured some really difficult things in my life, and I’ll manage this one.
Instead of standing here, surveying the uninspiring living conditions for the next week, I decide to head out and get a drink and some food.
My stomach rumbles and I sigh, thankful that there’s a bar and grill just down the road.
After escaping my antique living quarters, I walk down the street, noticing more of the shops and that the coffee shop also has breakfast, where I know where I’ll be each morning. Once I make it to the bar and step inside, it’s exactly like I imagined. Its wood-paneled walls are decorated with various photos and neon lights, the floor is covered in black-and-white checkered tiles that are more brown now than either color, and there’s a large square bar in the center.
I find an empty seat between two groups and squeeze my way in.
“Hello there,” the bartender says as I settle onto my stool. “What can I get you?”
“Hi. Can I get a whiskey sour, please?” I ask.
“Sure thing. Are you new here?” he asks as he walks over to grab a glass and start pouring.
“Yes, I’m visiting for work.”
He nods. “In Ember Falls? What kind of work do you do?”
“Consulting,” I explain, which isn’t true, but since I don’t know anything about what the client needs, that seems like a perfectly good cover story.
He finishes the drink and sets it down. “Well, lots of folks around here probably need that.”
I smile. “Good to know. I’m always looking to expand my reach. Are you guys still serving food?”
The bartender nods. “Kitchen is open until ten. Would you like to see a menu?”
“Yes, please, I’m starving,” I explain.
“Sure thing. I’m Max and if you need anything, just holler.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
I take a sip of my drink, looking around at the crowd. There aren’t very many people my age here, most are a lot older or look like they just turned twenty-one.
Not that I’m so much older since I’m only twenty-five, but still, twenty-one feels like a million years ago.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I inwardly groan, not the least bit surprised my mother texted. Lord knows she never misses a chance for her weekly hate text about me leaving Indiana—and her.
Mom: Another week alone. No one has come by to even check on me. I thought you said I wouldn’t be alone, Tessa. You promised your move to New York wouldn’t change my life. You also said you’d visit every month. It’s been four and not one visit.
Because I’m freaking living and trying to make money. I rub my forehead. Of course my asshole brother hasn’t gone to check on her.
Me: Sorry that Reece hasn’t stopped by, Mom. I’ll do my best to visit. Right now I’m on a business trip.
It’s also incredibly expensive to go back home, but that really isn’t her concern. I get it, she’s alone, my brother is a prick, my father left when Reece was two months old, drained the bank account, and never came back. She worked hard just to put food on the table and then after her car accident six years ago, she was never the same since she couldn’t work and there was no settlement.
I became the source of her frustration and have borne the brunt of it since.
And I’ve tried so hard to do what I can to be there for her, but I have to live my life.
At least that’s what my therapist tells me.
Mom: Oh. You’re traveling.
Me: For work.
Mom: Okay, Tessa. Maybe you should work on prioritizing the people in your life who have been there for you above your career. I guess I’ll see you when you have the time.
I can literally feel her disdain from here and the guilt that only she manages to deliver so well.
But I’m a grown woman with a master’s degree and doing it all on her own. I need to stop taking care of everyone other than myself.
I put my phone away and decide to put my past, my failures as a daughter (according to my mom), and my inability to let go behind me.
I glance over the menu again, still not sure what I want as Max is busy with the very crowded bar, and sigh. This bar reminds me of college. It was exactly like Bill’s, the bar that was down the street from my apartment in Georgia. My college roommate, Meredith, and I spent so much of our time there. God, that reminds me how long it’s been since I’ve talked to her, and I think she only lives an hour or so from here.
The door opens and for some reason, my attention drifts there and lands on the most incredibly sexy man. My jaw drops as I take in his dark brown hair that has just the slightest silver dusting on the side that’s peeking out of his cowboy hat. The dusting doesn’t make him look bad, no, it makes him look absolutely gorgeous. Even the scruff on his jaw adds to the allure.
He locks eyes with me and then walks straight to me.
The closer he gets the more I realize he’s not just hot—he’s scorching hot. Quite possibly the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life.
And then he smiles and my heart drops as he takes the seat next to me.
Have strength, Tessa.
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