Page 25 of Last First Kiss

His stomach twists.

“Actually,” he squeaks.

The others stop abruptly.

“I just need to,” Jordan begins, his voice back at its normal volume, even as his insides yell,This is what a heart attack feels like. “I need to get a… thing. From my office. For the presentation. I’ll be, uh, right there.”

Kami eyes the iPad still tucked under Jordan’s arm, knowing that’s all he ever needs for a meeting with clients.

“Okay,” she says slowly, skeptically. “We’ll just get settled in.”

“Sounds perfect!”

Jordan spins away. He marches right past Jamie, holding his breath. If anyone notices him walking in theopposite directionof his office to hide in the restroom, he doesn’t stick around long enough to hear about it.

Jordan is a professional. He works hard at his job. Late nights, early mornings. Every client walks away from one of his events feeling like he gave it his all. That his extra efforts were solely for them.

To ensure this happens, Jordan does extensive research. How can he customize a client’s party—make it unforgettable—without truly knowing them? And not just surface-level information.

Jordan needs to know therealthem.

The problem is, Amy doesn’t have a social media presence. She doesn’t even have a Facebook account. No LinkedIn either. All Jordan has on her are photos she’s been tagged in, mostly by Sam or his friends. Everything else is google-able facts.

None of his bullet points on Amy Welch connect her to Jamie Peters.

Jordan sighs from his seat on the toilet in the company restroom. He’s notusingit. The lid is closed. This is a temporary thinking spot. Since he clearly can’t go back to his office.

Because all adults hide in public restrooms while figuring out how to escape truly horrific situations.

He runs through his fact sheet one more time.

Jordan knows Amy’s birthday. Her parents’ occupations. The various freelance articles she wrote for sports blogs. The schools she attended…

“Fucking hell,” he whispers, facepalming.

It was right there. High school: Brighton Academy. The same pretentious private institution Denz attended.

Where he met Jamie.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jordan groans into his hand.

How did he miss that?

Now, Jamie’s here. At 24 Carter Gold. Waiting in the company conference room with the future bride and groom Jordan’s supposed to be wooing.

He can’t let Kami down.

He can’t lethimselfdown. Winning over Amy and Sam brings him closer to the next step in his career.

With a deep exhale, Jordan stands. No use in delaying the inevitable. He grips the cool porcelain edges of the sink until his hands stop shaking.

“You’re Jordan Carter,” he says to his reflection. “Nothing can stop you from being great.”

Silly as it is, that one sentence skyrockets his confidence. He’s faced the odds before. Jordanalwayswins.

One man won’t derail his goals.

But the restroom door swinging open just as he reaches for the handle can.