Pinky Swear

Chapter One

Chapter One

Avery

Some promises were meant to be broken.

Some were made knowing that there’s no way to keep them.

Some are the ultimate promise—the pinky swear. That’s what Alyssa and I made to each other when we were in middle school.

“I’ll never date your brother,” I told her one day after school. Joshua Reynolds. Four years older than me, and a complete asshole. He had just started high school and now we were in completely different circles. But that didn’t matter anyway. He hated me.

The feeling was mutual.

I’m still not even sure why she’d been so adamant about it then. But she’d drug me into my bedroom after school and pulled out the familiar glittery pink notebook from her book bag. On the front she’d written Pinky Swear. The contents of which held every single promise we’d ever make to each other. She still has the raggedy thing.

“It needs to go down in the notebook,” she told me seriously.

We pinky swear that we will NEVER date each other’s brother! Ever! She wrote quickly with a blue gel pen.

“Now it’s law, Ava,” she said sternly, like she was reprimanding me for something I hadn’t even done. And definitely didn’t even want to do. I’d agreed, obviously. He was fifteen years old, and he had no interest in a chubby eleven year old girl. I never thought about the promise again. So many promises were written down after it.

We pinky swear that we will NEVER let another boy come between us. This one had been written after we’d gotten in a huge fight when we both liked Walker Rhodes and he’d given me his jacket after the football game.

We pinky swear that we will go to the same college, and be roommates, and have an awesome four years together. It was written it the book, so it had to happen—and it did.

We’ve never broken a promise written down in the pinky swear book. We never planned to.

But that one pinky swear that I hadn’t understood…

Who would have ever thought that twelve years after it had been written in ink, that I’d wish it was something I could erase?

SUMMER, Present

“Mrs. Dalton, I can assure you that the tiles you’ve requested will be in today. As soon as I receive them, I’ll talk to Genevieve and set up a time with you to come look at them.” I assure the plump middle aged woman over the phone. If she’s not coming in here to bother me about every little detail of her home renovation, she’s calling me. She’s somehow even retrieved my cell number and texts me all hours of the day for updates.

“Well, yes, you had better. I’ve been waiting on these tiles for weeks. It’s utterly ridiculous.”

If by weeks, she means one week, then sure. Utterly ridiculous.

“I’ll be in touch with you this afternoon, Mrs. Dalton. Have a wonderful morning. Bye-bye.” I say quickly, and then set the phone in its cradle, effectively ending that conversation.

The phone rings again, loud and shrill. I swear if it’s Mrs. Dalton again, I’ll lose my mind.

“Everlasting Construction, Interior Design, you’ve reached Genevieve’s office, how can I help you today?” I say in my sweetest, and fakest, voice. I love my job. I really do. It fell into my lap only two months out of college, and I’ve never once taken the opportunity for granted. The design assistant to Genevieve Maxwell. It’s a really big deal. She’s a Knoxville celebrity.

“Cut the crap,” someone hisses from the other end. I roll my eyes and smile. “Who’d you think it was? Admit it, you thought it was the curly headed crow you told me about. Where’s my tiles? When will my garage be painted? I said cotton-soft blue not peony-pink!”

I laugh. “What do you want, Alyssa? I’m working.”

“I want to know if we’re doing lunch today. Me, you, Krista, and Mark.”

“Mark again?” I ask, an eyebrow raised for no ones benefit but my own. “Interesting. You’ve been talking to him for a few months.”

“Yeah, don’t make a thing of it, Avery. He’s not permanent, he’s just fun every now and then. Can you do lunch or not? We miss you. You’re so busy now all the time. Do we need to put that in the notebook? That we swear to always make time for each other?”

“I can do lunch. Calm down. It’s just been stressful with Genevieve out of town off and on the past month.” Her mother-in-law was recently diagnosed with dementia and it’s come on very suddenly, so she’s been flying out to Seattle to figure things out. Her husband passed a few years ago and his mother and her have a very tumultuous relationship, but even though Gen puts up a cold exterior, she’d never leave her mother-in-law with no help.

“Yay!” She squeals loudly. I pull the phone away, my ears ringing. “I have so much to fill you in on!”

I laugh. We just had dinner three nights ago. “Okay, I’ll see y’all at one, just text me where.”

“Okay! Bye, b***h!”

We hang up and I look down at the spreadsheet in front of me. I take my highlighter from behind my ear and run it over everything that still needs to be done on a different client’s house. I get lost in my work for the next few hours—making phone calls, returning emails, writing up contracts—and before I know it, it’s almost noon.

There’s a knock at my office door and I look up and immediately break out into a smile. Leaning against my door is Clayton James—tall, dark, handsome, and all mine.

“Hey,” I say calmly, reminding myself to stay professional. Clay is a little more than a f**k buddy, but not quite a boyfriend. We haven’t been able to connect much lately, though, with my boss out of town and his boss quit a few weeks back. “What’s up?”

“They just hired someone to replace Bill,” he tells me.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask, wondering if a celebratory hug is in order. He was really gunning for a promotion.

“Yeah, some guy from out of state.”

“Oh,” I say, my face falling. “Did they tell you why?”

“Nah, they didn’t say too much. Just that he’s starting on Monday. He’ll actually be working pretty close with Genevieve on some big new client’s new-build.”

“Gen?” I ask, a little surprised. “Gen’s taking care of her mother-in-law. She told me that she’d be in and out for a few more weeks before they got everything settled.”

He shrugs. “They must’ve said something to her so that they wouldn’t lose this client. It’s going to be a multi-million dollar house.” He moves towards my desk now, taking a seat on the edge of it, facing me. “I’m not too bummed. It just means I’ll have more time for my favorite girl.”

I grin, forgetting why I was even worried about this new client in the first place. Clay comes off as a bit of a ladies man, but he’s proved to be quite the catch. We wanted to take things slow, not make anything official too fast since this would translate into our work lives, but if he asked me to be his girlfriend, I might just say yes.

“So, what are you doing for lunch? I thought we could go celebrate my newfound free-time.”

I bite my lip guiltily. “I already made plans with Lyss.”

“No problem,” he tells me. “Dinner? Your place? Some takeout and a bottle of wine?”

I nod eagerly. “That sounds great.”

He leans in slowly and places a kiss on my lips. It’s not a super romantic kiss, because well, work, but it speaks volumes. He’s never kissed me in the office before. Maybe this means he’s ready to make things official. Do I want to make things official? Should I say yes if he asks?

“I’ll see you in a while.”

I watch him leave, appreciating the sight of his retreating figure. Once he’s escaped my view I sigh. I hope his new boss isn’t as big of a prick as his last one. The guy was a walking mid-life crisis who hit on anything in the office in a skirt.

I stand and head into Gen’s office, filing away documents and organizing the new ones on her desk for her when she gets back. I update her calendars, both digital and the one hanging on her wall. When I’m done, I head to the bathroom to freshen up before lunch. I head to a stall and use the restroom quickly, walking to the sink to wash my hands. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, an eerie sense of Déjà vu washing over me. Dilated eyes stare back at me, smudged mascara on my cheeks. My nose is dripping blood, and my hair is a mess, tendrils torn loose from my fancy French braid. My heart rate accelerates and I blink hard.

When I open my eyes I’m back in the bathroom at work. The walls are crisp white and immaculately clean. There’s no loud music shaking the walls. The girl staring back at me in the mirror is fine—wearing trousers and a blouse instead of a minidress. My brown hair is pulled up into a bun and my mascara is intact. I let out a shaky breath and push it all from my mind. That’s one memory from college that I don’t reminisce about.

I grab my keys and check my cell phone to see where I’m meeting my friends. By the time I see them, laughing at a booth in the back of our favorite restaurant, I feel almost normal again. I slide in next to Krista, across from Lyss and Mark who are completely engrossed in each other.

“Thank God you’re here,” she says. “They’ve been this disgusting since we got here.”

“Babe!” Lyss shrieks now that my presence has been made known. She waves her hands in front of herself excitedly. “Let’s start with the good! Can you get off work for a couple days in September?”

“That’s a few months away still, so probably. Why though?” I ask suspiciously.

“Vacation, babe. Krista’s been holding out on us—her parents bought a beach house a few years back and she’s just now inviting us.”

“Um, correction, it’s just now been free for me to use,” Krista interjects. “They’ve had it rented out every summer since, but I got lucky and there was a week available in September, so they’re letting me use it, free of charge.”

“That’s very cool,” I say, thinking of the sand between my toes and the breeze in my hair. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Gen about it.”

“Great!” Lyss says, clapping her hands together.

A waitress comes over and takes our drink orders, distracting us momentarily. When she walks away I raise an eyebrow at Lyss.

“If the beach house was the “good” what is the bad?” I ask her.

She bites her lip and looks away. “Josh and Derek are moving back. They both got some jobs around here somewhere.”

My stomach drops and my vision blurs around the edges. Josh moving back is one thing—an annoying thing—but Derek? The thought of it makes me sick. I never told Alyssa the whole story, she just knows that I can’t stand him. I suck in a deep breath and force myself to calm down. Just because he’s moving back doesn’t mean that I have to see him.

“You alright?” She asks me, Mark and Krista watching the interaction, confused.

I nod weakly.

“Pinky swear?” She asks, a frightened look in her eyes. She’s always suspected that there was something I wasn’t telling her but I’ve never confirmed or denied.

I square my shoulders as her, forcing myself to be okay. I have to be okay. Otherwise, I’d be breaking my promise.

“Pinky swear.”