No Ordinary Love (A Modern Vintage Romance #5)

23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Amara

T he Women's Advocacy Network's office was nestled in one of Charleston's stately historic homes, just off Meeting Street. The exterior was everything you'd expect from a city steeped in history—white columns, tall windows with dark shutters, and an expansive wraparound porch lined with lush ferns and rocking chairs that creaked softly in the breeze. But as soon as I stepped through the front door, it was clear that the interior was where old-world charm ended and modern purpose began.

The foyer was a blend of polished hardwood floors and bright, airy spaces. The walls were adorned with local art and black-and-white photographs capturing moments of activism and change, all framed in sleek, minimalist designs that contrasted beautifully with the home's original architecture.

I was greeted by a receptionist who directed me down a hallway to the office of the head of the Advocacy Network, Jill Trotter. Her office was at the end of the hallway, and as I reached it, the door was slightly ajar. I knocked gently, and a voice from inside called out, "Come on in!"

I stepped inside to find Jill standing by a large bay window overlooking a lush courtyard garden, checking her phone. She was an elegant woman in her mid-forties, with warm brown skin, short-cropped hair, and an air of quiet authority that immediately put me at ease. She wore a crisp white blouse and tailored pants, her look completed by a simple string of pearls.

She set her phone down and came close to me, holding out her hand. "Amara," she greeted me with a smile that reached her eyes. Her accent was southern but with a touch of Yankee from years spent studying or working in larger cities out East.

We shook hands, and she gestured to a chair. "I'm so glad you could join us. Please, make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you, Ms. Trotter," I replied, settling into one of the comfortable chairs across from her desk.

"Call me Jill," she said, waving off the formality as she settled into her seat behind the desk. It was a beautiful piece—an antique, lovingly restored, with wood polished to a deep, warm glow. Papers were neatly stacked in one corner, and a sleek laptop sat open in front of her. She closed it and pushed it aside, giving me her full attention.

"I've been so looking forward to meeting you," she continued. "I've heard wonderful things about your work, and I'm thrilled you're going to be part of our project."

"Likewise. You've done some great work in South Carolina with WIC. And with regards to this project, I'm honored to be involved." I was high on excitement. "It sounds like an incredible opportunity to make a real difference."

"We believe it is," Jill agreed, her expression serious now. "We've been discussing the Women's Health and Nutrition Initiative for a year since we started our advocacy non- profit. We've seen far too many disparities in maternal health, particularly in marginalized communities, and it's time we addressed them head-on. Your expertise in health communication will be crucial in helping us reach the women who need this information the most in a way that's accessible and actionable."

I nodded, feeling a deep sense of purpose. "I'm ready to do whatever I can to help."

"Good." Jill leaned back slightly in her chair. "I'm confident that you'll assemble a strong team for this project. Today, you'll meet some of the key players, including our sponsors. It's important that you understand the scope of what we're trying to accomplish, as well as the resources we have at our disposal."

"Who are the sponsors?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral, though my curiosity was piqued.

"There are several—."

Her phone rang then, and she picked up and spoke into it. "Yes, yes. We'll be there. Thanks, hon."

She stood up, signaling the end of our private meeting. "Let's head to the conference room. The others are waiting."

I followed her down the hallway. The Chancellor had mentioned that I'd be working with Jill, of course, but also with the key sponsors funding this project. In academia, we were always scrambling for resources, so it was a relief to have the funding secured for a project.

As Jill and I entered the conference room, all eyes turned to us. The table was already filled with an array of people—some I recognized.

Rena Covington sat at the head of the table. To her right was Lucas, his gaze locking onto mine the moment I walked in. My heart did an uneasy flip at the sight of him, but I quickly pushed the feeling aside.

The Covington family was one of the sponsors! I should've known .

"Amara, wonderful to see you again, darlin'." Rena's voice was warm but commanding as if she'd always expected I'd end up in this room, at this table. No doubt!

A polished dark wood table dominated the center of the conference room and was surrounded by comfortable, high-backed chairs. Large windows, framed by heavy curtains, flooded the room with natural light, while abstract artwork added a contemporary touch to the space.

I took the seat across from Lucas, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. I tried not to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the other people in the room.

Introductions were made.

Next to Lucas was Dr. Caroline Brooks, a leading public health expert who had dedicated her career to improving maternal health outcomes in under-served communities. Across from Dr. Brooks was a well-dressed man with a casual air about him. He was introduced as Maury Tipton, a policy advisor who had been working closely with state legislators on health initiatives. A policy wonk!

Jill took her seat at the other end of the table, opposite Rena. "Thank you all for coming," she began, her tone professional but infused with a sense of urgency. "This project is not just another initiative. It's a necessary step toward addressing the disparities in maternal health that have been ignored for far too long. We have the expertise, the resources, and the drive to make a real difference, and I'm confident that with this team, we can accomplish that."

She glanced at Rena, who took it as her cue to speak. "As many of you know, this is a cause that's close to my heart. South Carolina has some of the highest maternal mortality rates in the country, particularly among women of color and those in rural areas. That's why I've brought my family's foundation into this and secured additional funding from partners who share our commitment to this cause."

I cleared my throat. "How do you see this project playing out? Is this a simple communication effort? Or a research initiative?"

Lucas leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving mine as he cut in. "Amara, your role is crucial. We need you to lead the research and identify the key gaps in communication and then develop communication strategies that resonate with the women who need this information most. This isn't just about putting out pamphlets—it's about empowering women with the knowledge they need to make informed decisions about their health."

Despite everything, I felt a surge of respect for him. Whatever issues we had, it was clear he believed in this project. I could see it in the way he spoke, in the intensity of his eyes. He wasn't just going through the motions—he was genuinely invested in making a difference.

What is Lucas trying to do? Is this just another ego thing for him? He lost Kath and wanted her back; then, once he had her, he didn't want her anymore. And now that he's lost me, he wants to…what?

I took a deep breath, grounding myself. "I'm honored to be part of this team. I'll do everything I can to make sure we put together a strong research strategy to uncover the information we need so we can lean in strongly."

Many times, such projects and initiatives jumped straight into putting together the pretty brochures and messages, not taking the time to do research. I was happy to see that this wasn't the case here.

Dr. Brooks smiled. "Dr. Gantz has been singing your praises, and the Chancellor mentioned that you have some capable Teaching Assistants to help with the research. That said, I'd also like to offer my support—especially if you're planning to conduct focus groups or qualitative research."

I liked this team better and better.

"I think whatever strategy we come up with will include both quantitative and qualitative measures."

"I can be of help with your questionnaires," Maury Tipton offered. "As a policy adviser, I spend my life buried in that sort of thing."

I smiled gratefully. "I'm going to need all the help I can get. What kind of timeline are we thinking about?"

Lucas pushed a folder toward me. "Here is the brief. We're hoping that we can do the research by Christmas and then present the analyses by early Spring."

I chewed on my lower lip.

"Is that a problem?" Rena asked.

I shook my head. Once the research was done, I could do analysis from Dad's house in New York. That way, I'd have something to do instead of sitting around moping. This might actually work out.

"We will then decide how to proceed as a team," Jill told me. "Amara, depending upon your availability, of course, we would very much like for you to lead the implementation as well."

I cleared my throat, avoided looking at Lucas, and faced Jill instead. "I don't think that will be possible, as I'll be leaving Charleston in December. I can complete the remaining work from New York and present the findings and recommendations, but you'll need to find someone else to implement the program."

Jill sighed. "Well, that's what the Chancellor said, but she hoped…."

"Let's not borrow trouble from tomorrow," Rena said firmly, "I'd like to have Jill walk us through the project brief, so we're all on the same page."

I could feel Lucas's eyes on me, which I ignored, though my heart was beating fast . And my lady parts were salivating. My vagina needed some serious talking to.

Lucas and I are done! I'll find someone hot and sexy in New York for a one-night stand or two. Just hang in there , you stupid cunt!

My vagina wasn't impressed with my statement, and my eyes surreptitiously watched Lucas hungrily like he was the most delicious meal on the planet and I hadn't eaten in days.

It was obviously going to be a challenge, working so closely with him, but I was determined not to let it distract me.

Good luck with that, my vagina declared smugly.

I was having a conversation with my genitalia. I was losing my mind.

The meeting continued, with each person around the table contributing their expertise and ideas. I listened carefully, taking notes, as a plan for tackling this enormous challenge started to take shape in my mind.

As the meeting drew to a close, Jill summarized our next steps. We set up the next meetings on our calendars and packed up.

I was walking to my car, when Lucas caught up with me.

"Amara, can we talk?" he asked.

I hesitated, my instinct to run conflicting with the knowledge that I couldn't avoid this forever. Basil was right. I didn't like uncomfortable situations and escaped them, not meeting them head-on. That would not serve me well with Lucas or in the future, wherever it may take me.

"Okay," I gave in.

He seemed surprised for a moment and then a smile broke on his face. "Savannah's is around the corner. We can walk there."