Page 7 of A Perfect Fit

“Of course, Mr. Ca—I mean, Jackson. Let me grab your luggage.”

“I’ve got it.” I take my luggage and load it into the trunk of the Mercedes-Benz before heading for the back seat.

It’s eighty degrees, though not as humid as I thought it’d be for late June weather. Still, I take off my suit jacket and roll up my shirtsleeves.

I wonder whether Isabelle’s still wearing all those layers she was sporting on the plane.

A frown forms on my face at the sudden intrusive thought. I’m not sure why I’m thinking about her when we’ve parted ways already.

The sound of the car engine starting jolts me back to the present, and I clear my throat. “How’s your week been, Tony?”

“Good,” he cheerily responds. “My wife and I just celebrated our thirtieth wedding anniversary last week.”

“Wow, congrats!” I’m happy for him. “That’s exciting.”

“Thank you, Jackson.”

“I’ll have to hit you up for marriage advice when I get married,” I joke.

Realistically, marriage is a faraway prospect for me, considering I’ve never even had a relationship. I’m only twenty-four, so I like to think I’m still young, although my back pain, which likes to visit every now and then, might have other thoughts.

Tony looks at me through the rearview mirror, another smile gracing his face. “Whoever you end up with will be one lucky lady, Jackson.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember that whenever I need an ego boost.”

Tony laughs, the sound rich as it reverberates in the car. I grin in satisfaction. At least someone appreciates my great sense of humor. Unlike Isa—no, fuck. I’m not thinking about her again.

“How was your flight?” Tony asks.

I rub my jaw, glancing out the window at the line of yellow cabs. So much for not thinking about Isabelle again.

“It was all right.”

It definitely was nowhere near all right. I was doing some reading for work and barely got any rest. On top of that, Isabelle seemed to think my shoulder made for a good pillow when she fell asleep, which made it difficult for me to concentrate on work. I debated waking her up earlier, but she looked so peaceful sleeping. In the end, I let her sleep longer as my act of kindness of the day. I now regret every bit of it.

The chances that we’d be on the same flight and seat neighbors appear to be second to none, but of course, Isabelle just had to be the damn exception to the norm again.

Admittedly, even wearing multiple layers, she looked good, and even better than I remembered. Silky brownish-black hair, big brown eyes, luscious lips and⁠—

I shake my head, snapping out of it. Looks can be misleading after all, like how some plants look pretty but are actually poisonous.

Back in school, Isabelle was always an annoying presence. Showing up to speech and debate practice late, spilling things on me—all right, that was only once and allegedly an accident—making assumptions about me, and overall just being a goddamn distraction. Not to mention the time she tried to hijack my student council president election campaign and convince everyone not to vote for me. For the record, I still won.

Life really has a way of messing with you sometimes. I knew I should’ve spent the extra money on a business-class ticket instead.

“Do you have any coffee recommendations, by the way?” I ask, grateful that Tony doesn’t press any further about my flight.

I’ve been back to New York several times over the past eight years, but I’m out of the loop with what’s good around here. The city changes every time I return.

“The Daily Brew is great,” Tony responds. I make a mental note to check it out.

“It’s only a five-minute walk from Carter Marketing Solutions’ office,” he adds.

I sink deeper into the car’s leather seat at the mention of Carter Marketing Solutions—the marketing consultancy my late dad, Eric Carter, founded. It’s where I’m currently headed for my final transition meeting before I officially start my role as the firm’s CEO tomorrow.

When Dad passed away from a stroke during my first year of college, he left a portion of his shares in the company to me. I was to become CEO when I turned twenty-four. I’ve had six years to mentally prepare myself for the role, and I thought I was ready, but now that I’m back in New York, I can’t help but feel a sense of dread.

Tony eyes me through the rearview mirror. “Are you all right, Jackson?”