I hated the idea of never seeing her again.
God damn it, Chase. Get a grip.
I had to stop this. The more time I spent mulling over some stranger from the grocery store, the less time I'd have to find my pretend wife.
But there was just something about that girl...
Chapter Three
Jenna
After I got home, I did a quick Google search to confirm what I'd seen. Mrs. Daniel Thorne was indeed Maddy, my college roommate, the aspiring painter who ate a lot of circus peanuts and bit her lip when she smiled. I remembered her as being very shy, especially around men - but she'd evidently come out of her shell enough to catch a billionaire's attention.
There was no doubt she'd remember me. We'd lived together for four years, after all - and we always got along just fine, even if we were never terribly close. I always tried to be her wingman, and I'd been successful a few times, but she mostly sabotaged herself. I teased her gently about her awkwardness with boys and her habit of eating terrible candy, and she told me the cigarettes I smoked recreationally would rot my teeth faster than any dollar store confection ever could. She was right, of course. I hated cigarettes. I only smoked them because it attracted the bad boys, and I was desperately stupid back then.
I toyed with my phone in my hand for a long time, trying to decide what to do. Would she be happy to hear from me, or would she be resentful at the reminder of the old life she'd left behind?
Finally, I dug up the number to the local flagship office for Thorne Industries. Someone answered within one ring.
I cleared my throat.
"Can I leave a message for Maddy Thorne? Just tell her it's Jenn. Jenn Hadley."
"Would you like to leave a call-back number?" The assistant's voice was crisp, but professional. I hoped she wasn't just humoring me.
"Yes, please." I rattled it off, thanked her, and hung up.
It would be nice to have a friend in the city. Or at least an acquaintance. But there was no way I was hanging out with a young Lucille Bluth. If Maddy had turned into some kind of country club stereotype, I'd have to quietly back away.
And if her husband was anything like that guy I ran into in the grocery store - well.
We'd cross that bridge if we came to it.
I wasn't sure how I knew that Grocery Store Jerk was rich. I just did. He had the stink of money, old money, in particular - I knew it well. There weren't many people like him left. Not in this country, at least. His family probably hadn't had a whiff of hard work in many, many years.
I'd grown up surrounded by people like him. They only came during summers and holidays, but when they did, their presence was unmistakable. You could feel it, surrounding the whole town, smothering it. After the weeks spent preparing for them, we'd quietly hibernate in our own dingy homes, trying hard not to think about the seven thousand square feet of pure luxury we'd just spent a week cleaning, top to bottom. Fluffing pillows, removing dust covers, vacuuming and wiping down every square inch. When they left, we'd repeat the process in reverse, and if we were lucky there would be some cash on the nightstand.
Every year, every season, it was the same.
When I was young, I'd often asked my parents why we couldn't just live there while the tourists were away. I didn't understand why the houses had to stay empty. They'd never even know the difference. But my mother said something I never forgot:
"These people, they like to own things. Even if they're not using them, they need to know it's theirs. No one else's. They're not good at sharing. It's just the way they're brought up."
I'd believed her, without really understanding what she meant. When I got a little older, I started noticing how sleek and handsome some of the rich boys were. Not all of them were disgustingly stand-offish, and some were actually rather nice. My parents didn't bother to warn me against them - they didn't have to. I'd already learned my lesson, years ago, before I even cared about the difference between boys and girls.
Those kids and I, we'd never be the same. And it might not matter to them, or to me, but it certainly mattered to their parents. I wasn't going to get them in trouble. I wasn't going to be the one who got her heart broken, all because some boy needed to obey his father more than he needed me.
***
I frowned at my phone. Incoming call, unknown number - typically I'd ignore them, but on a whim, I picked up.
"Jenna?" said a voice I hadn't heard in a long, long time.
"Oh my God." I took a moment to gather my thoughts. "Maddy. I didn't think you'd call back - well, ever, to be honest."
She laughed. "Of course I would, man - how many years has it been?"
"Please don't make me answer that." I groaned, flopping back in my chair. "I've been bouncing around retail jobs since college, I really don't want to account for my time. I see you've been busy."
"Wow." She let out a little bewildered chuckle. "Yeah, I don't even know where to start. Uh, so I started working for a Fortune 500 company, married my boss, got knocked up - you know, the usual thing."
"I feel like I got sucked into a parallel universe," I admitted.
She snorted. "Imagine how I feel."
"Pretty damn smug, I'm guessing."
"Actually, most days I still pinch myself." I could hear her shifting in her seat, making little soothing noises to the little girl that was undoubtedly sitting in her lap. "So you're in town now, huh? For work?"
"Hopefully," I said. "Finally decided to chase that dream."
"Really? That's great!" She actually sounded enthusiastic - way more enthusiastic than I felt. "I always thought that was just drunk-talk. But I'm so happy for you. Sometimes you just have to grab life by the horns."
"I think I might've waited a few too many years," I admitted. "But hey. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"
I really hoped that the existential despair didn't come through in my voice.
"Exactly," she enthused. "So, hey - you want to grab a coffee and catch up? I'm sure Daniel can take care of Laura for a couple hours this Saturday."
Weird - I would've assumed a billionaire would have full-time childcare. Maybe Maddy was just a little more hands-on than most. For someone who I never pictured having kids in the first place, her parenting style was kind of difficult to imagine.
We hashed out the details of our coffee date, and I hung up feeling slightly optimistic. Having a friend didn't exactly solve my problems, but it would make my life a little less desolate.
What the hell were you thinking, coming here?
And just like that, the doubt and fear started to creep back in.