I made it to work the following day, my ring back in my car once more. I stared at it for a few seconds longer, wondering if I should take it out or just leave it in here.

After thinking about it last night, I felt much better about the whole thing. I didn’t believe it was a threat. I was an editor. Some writers thought they had to play this huge prank to get their story in order.

Or maybe it was just someone who hated my late husband trying to scare me. He had a lot of enemies, so that was plausible.

Shaking my head, I pulled myself out of my car, grateful for much better weather. Just as I was about to go in through the glass doors leading to the office, I met Jeremy leaning against the wall, a bag by his side and two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Mr. Hill!” We did not schedule any meeting for today. In fact, Mr. Cole hadn’t spoken to me about me considering taking up the job again. But when I look at Jeremy, he didn’t strike me as someone who was a fan of following the rules.

And that was one thing about working for the Cole Publishing House. Rules were our holy grail. One toe out of line and you were out of the door, in the blink of an eye.

“I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday,” he said, leaning off the wall. “Can we talk and… maybe have coffee?”

I looked at the glass doors, at the meeting I had with Mr. Cole this morning. A meeting I was not in any way prepared for, and then my mind did a little comparison of spending the morning with a total stranger.

This is business, I told myself, even when I knew Mr. Cole would yell the roof off when he found out.

“Sure,” I murmured, grabbing the coffee cup he extended my way and trying so hard not to look up at him again. He fell into step beside me, and we took slow walks up the block. I took a peek at his slightly open bag. The pages of the manuscript were peeking right up at me.

“I understand you not wanting to do any business outside of the firm…”

“Company’s policy,” I reminded him quickly, and then stopped when the implications of those words came running up to me. “Not that I am trying to say I will have a meal with you in the middle of the night if the company’s policies allowed it or something. I am just…”

He didn’t laugh, but the sudden brightness in his eyes made my mouth go dry. I didn’t think Jeremy laughed a lot, or did anything a lot for that matter.

“You don’t have to eat a meal with me, too, in the middle of the night,” he repeated, and I almost wished for the ground to open up and swallow me.

We got to a bend, and he pulled open the door to a cozy cafeteria on the corner.

It was my favorite spot.

“Welcome,” the doorman beamed, his smile getting even wider when he took me in.

“Hello, Fred. How are you doing today?”

I was so aware of Jeremy behind me, taking in the scene with his eyes. And for some reason I could not comprehend, it made me want to be attentive to everything I said and did, and the way in which I said and did them.

It made no sense. He was just a client.

“I heard about your husband,” Fred said, taking my hands warmly in his. “My wife and I are happy to host you anytime you need the company. Trust me, I have been talking a lot about you at home.”

“Really?” I chuckled. It was the first time I was feeling this alive since the funeral. “Thank you. That is so sweet.”

“Good morning, Sir.” Fred turned to Jeremy. He got on his feet at once and bowed so low that I was scared his head would hit the ground. And just when I was about to make the totally unnecessary introductions, Jeremy nodded.

“Hello, Fred.”

Maybe it was the way he said it, or the look in his eyes, but I could tell that they knew each other. I was about to ask about it when the manager strode out in all her glory, her polite smile on display.

And maybe something wider. A spring in her steps and pink patches on both sides of her face.

“Mr. Hill,” she beamed, stopping in front of us. “You didn’t inform me you would be coming around, or that you are in New York for that matter.”

Jeremy took a sip out of his coffee, spending a god awful time on it. But the manager didn’t seem to mind as her smile didn't wane.

Not even one bit.

“I have business in town,” he said finally, looking around the space. “How is it going around here?”

Wait. What?

She turned to look at me, and then her gaze returned to Jeremy. “I see you have met our most valuable customer.”

I was confused. What was actually going on here? Was he…

“Are you…”

“I don’t like talking about it,” he murmured, walking away from the manager and heading towards a booth near the window.

My favourite booth.

Before the death of my husband, I used to come sit here every morning before the firm opened, just happy to be free of him for a few hours.

“Why don’t you like talking about it?” I asked when we took our seats, the name of the café now meaning much more to me. It was called J.H., and I had always wondered what it stood for.

“Because my father made me buy it,” he muttered, seemingly embarrassed at admitting it. “I don’t think I care much for it as I should, and that’s not because of the café. It’s just…”

He stopped suddenly, swallowing. And then, the hint of the real Jeremy I saw only seconds ago, faded into oblivion as he leaned into the leather seat. “It’s nothing.”

I nodded in understanding. “I get you, Mr. Hill,” I sighed. “My late husband used to make me do a lot of things I didn’t want to and… even when they were things I liked, I ended up hating them just because he wanted them too.”

Something shifted in his gaze. It felt like he was waiting for something more. But just then, the bell above the door dinged, and the last person I wanted to see this morning strode in.