Free Wanderlust by Thea Dawson Page A

didn’t think Monica would care whether I was a success or not, but I did.
    Initially, when I’d graduated, I’d taken off like a rocket. I’d networked, landed great offers, brought in great accounts, risen fast. And then—disaster. The man who’d founded the hot, hip marketing company I’d worked for in San Francisco had been killed in a car accident, after which the company foundered and eventually folded. I’d pulled out all the stops trying to find another job, and eventually landed what seemed like a golden opportunity in Chicago.
    But it had been a fiasco.
    There’d been the whole Meghan thing, of course, which hadn’t helped, but it went well beyond that. I hated Chicago, with its miserably hot summer and even more miserably cold winter. I hated my job. Even with its long hours, it might have been bearable, but the woman who had originally hired me left soon after I came on board, and my new boss was a jackass. He hated me, and I pretty much felt the same about him. Management paid lip service to the idea of teamwork and service to clients, but in truth, the company culture was paranoid, backbiting, and ruthlessly competitive. Rumor had it that the company was having financial problems and would be pink-slipping people soon. I actually prayed I’d be one of them.
    I thought about Monica. The irony of the Meghan situation was not lost on me. I pictured myself explaining the whole story to Monica: I left for a great opportunity, and she was an unsupportive bitch. Now I know how you felt. Sorry.
    Of course, my great opportunity had been a flop. I wondered how her year in Paris had turned out. I’d never had the chance to talk to her about it. I couldn’t even remember what she’d written on the single postcard she’d sent. Nothing deep, I was sure. A Having a good time, wish you were here sort of thing.
    Which, come to think of it, might have been a lot deeper than I’d realized.
    I’d actually liked to have talked to her, if for no other reason than to learn more about her business. Learning about other people’s businesses was my passion, after all. It was pretty cool that she’d turned out to be an entrepreneur. And of course, now that she was at the top of my mind, I was remembering our time together and feeling nostalgic. So although I had decided not to actually contact her, I couldn’t help opening Facebook to have a look at the Adventuress Travel page.
    And as soon as I did, I saw the message.
    I have your gloves.

Chapter 8
     
    Monica
     
    I finished mixing my drink and sat down on the couch across from Stephen and told him about meeting Jason at the coffee shop. The emotional impact of the encounter couldn’t be conveyed without digging into the distant past, and before I knew it, I’d spilled it all—first love, first sex, first heartbreak, the absurd disappointment on finding out that he was engaged, the strange feeling of restlessness and longing that had resurfaced on seeing him again after all this time.
    Stephen kept interrupting with questions and comments. He loved getting into completely irrelevant details—like what I was wearing the first time I met Jason—and the whole story ended up taking us through dinner and into the sorbet.
    Finally Stephen sat back and let out a deep breath. “This is the most romantic story I’ve ever heard,” he said. “And a darn good dinner. Thank you very much.”
    “You’re welcome.” I put my napkin on the table. I’d hoped that talking to Stephen would make me feel better, but I still felt unsettled and edgy. “I guess parts of it are romantic. Parts of it are just weird.”
    “No, the whole thing is romantic! This is, like, destiny! You and this Jason guy are meant to be together.”
    “Yeah, but he’s engaged. For all I know, he’s married by now.”
    “Meh. He thinks you’re engaged,” Stephen waved his hand dismissively.
    I raised my eyebrows skeptically. “You think that engagement notice was just some silly