I reach Henry’s office and knock on his door.
“Come in.”
I open the door and walk in, shutting it behind me. Henry is sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer. I take a seat across from him. The room, with its bare walls and empty shelves, looks cold. As does the man sitting across from me.
“Henry . . . before . . . just now . . . I—”
“It’s none of my business,” he says, his tone cool, his demeanor hard. It wasn’t that long ago that I sat across from this man, his face full of feeling and expression as he told me he “really liked me.” I can hardly remember that man or that time.
That’s a lie. I remember it perfectly. What I can’t seem to wrap my brain around is this complete one-eighty sitting across from me.
I place my hands in my lap. “Well, I want to explain—”
“No need,” he says, his words a staccato.
I huff out a breath. “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway,” I say, feeling irritation move through me. “I was only casually dating Brady when I met you. We hadn’t even been out for a couple of weeks before I met you. I—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Henry says, cutting me off.
My irritation turns to anger. “It does matter. I don’t want you thinking I was two-timing Brady. I don’t do that.” I don’t know why it’s important for me to say this to him. He’s right, it doesn’t matter. Not to him—not for him and me. There is no him and me.
At least Brady is putting himself out there and doesn’t have all these rules about dating coworkers. Maybe I’m the kind of woman that Brady would move mountains for. I’m certainly not for Henry.
“It’s fine,” he says. “About the feature.”
“What about it?”
“It’s a go. I’m going to do it.”
I freeze in my seat. My eyes stuck on his. He stares back; his jaw ticks.
“Why?” I ask.
“Dwayne thinks I should,” he says.
“Dwayne . . . thinks . . . you should,” I repeat, the words slowly spilling out of my mouth.
“Yeah, it will be good for ratings, I s’pose. So, I just . . . wanted to tell you. First. You came up with the idea, so I thought you should know.”
I have a million thoughts all going through my head. I want to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this. I want to tell him that I don’t want him to do this. But what would be the point? I’ve already put my heart on the line for this man. And he squashed it. Like an annoying little bug.
I place my hands palm down on my thighs. “Good,” I say, trying to make my tone light. But it comes out more like I’m talking around mash potatoes in my throat.
“So, well done,” he says, his tone a bit harsher than it should be for what I’m assuming is supposed to be a compliment.
“Thank you.” I don’t wait for him to dismiss me—I get up and walk toward the office door, opening and shutting it without saying another word.
~*~
“So he’s going to do it?” Holly asks. We’re at our favorite pizza place, just the girls this time. Me, Holly, and Bree. It’s the only place that I don’t automatically order salad at, probably because they don’t offer it.
After I walked out of Henry’s office, I went back to my desk and allowed myself exactly three cusswords in my head before I texted Bree and Holly to see if we could have some girl time, fully expecting for Holly to say she couldn’t because she never seems to have time for me lately—especially at the last minute. She’s so busy with her new business and with Logan. But to my surprise, both she and Bree were able to come.
“I guess so,” I say. I’ve just told them about my whole afternoon. The email Henry sent out, Brady informing Henry of our “relationship,” Henry telling me he’s going to do the feature that I came up with. The feature that was supposed to be for an intern and not my crazy-hot new boss. How am I supposed to watch Central Florida fawn all over Henry? If I could just go back in time, I’d come up with another promo. Or put tape over Moriarty’s mouth.
“So, will you be working on this with him?” Bree asks, her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun that doesn’t look so messy on Bree.
“I . . . don’t know. Maybe?” I don’t want to say out loud what I’m fairly confident will happen: they’ll give the feature to Moriarty. That’s how most things work at the station. Pretty much any ideas I’ve come up with have gone to Moriarty. I only kept the one I did with Holly because she told the station she wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t involved. Like the true friend that she is.
“And you’ll have to watch him . . . date other women?” Holly asks, a concerned look on her face.
I blow air out of my mouth, making a raspberry sound. “Yep.”
“Well that’s dumb,” Bree says.
“What are you going to do about Brady?” Holly asks before picking up a slice of pizza covered in cheese and pepperoni.
I sigh. “I don’t know. I know I need to tell him that this thing is just casual. Or maybe I just need to tell him it’s over.”
“You know what I think,” Bree says, giving me a sly grin. “I think you should use this to your advantage.”
“How’s that?” I question her through squinty eyes. I’ve known Bree since our sophomore year of college. She doesn’t exactly have the best track record with men. Or advice on men.
“I mean, you’ve got this Brady guy, and it sounds to me like Henry might be a little jealous,” Bree says, picking a slice of olive off her pizza and popping it in her mouth.
I smack my lips. “I don’t think he was jealous. More like confused.”
“But from the way you tell it, it sounded like he was mad,” Bree says.
“He definitely seemed mad,” Holly pipes in. “Plus, he sent out that email.”
“I think that was more about him and his rules. I mean, he had no reason to think that Brady and I were . . . whatever we are.” He did see me holding hands with Brady the day before, when he was trying to comfort me after I saw myself performing that bad-word rap. Could that have been the catalyst for him sending that station-wide email? The notion seems ridiculous. Like that would be giving it all too much credit.
“I don’t think he was jealous. It didn’t seem like he cared all that much,” I say, after swallowing a bite of pizza. I set my slice down on my plate.
“I think he was . . . What’s the word?” Bree looks to Holly.
“Projecting?” Holly offers.
“Yeah, that. Projecting. I bet he’s totally jealous, and I think you should use this whole Brady thing to your advantage,” Bree says.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to use Brady.” Even if I knew it would one hundred percent, without a doubt, make Henry jealous, I don’t think I could do that to Brady. Well, I’m pretty sure. At least, I hope I wouldn’t be that person.
“I’m not saying to actually use him, just the idea of him.” Bree says this like she’s appalled that I didn’t catch her meaning.
“I’m not following.”