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Thequestionisposedtowardtheendofthenight,asalargeboxofchocolatesispassedaroundthetableandMimi,thehost,fillsupwineglassessoherfridgeisn’tleftwithbottlesthataretwo-thirdsdrunk.It’sbeenalong,tiringweek,soMimiinvitedafewofusfromtheofficeforamuch-neededFridaynightboozydinnerparty.
“Here’safunconundrumforyoualltoconsider,”announcesDominic.“Onethatwillgiveusaninterestinginsightintoeachother’scharacters,Ireckon.”
Mimismiles,sittingbackdownattheheadofthetable.“Soundsintriguing.”
“Mythirty-one-year-oldcousinworksatafashionmagazineandshelovesherjob,butherboyfriendhasbeenofferedhisdreamjobinNewYork.Somyquestiontoyouis:DoesshestayhereinLondon,inthejobshe’sworkedhardtoachieve,butpotentiallyrisklosingthemanofherdreamstolongdistance,ordoesshehandinhernoticeandriskunemploymentacrossthepond,buttaketheleapforlove?”Dominicaskswitharaisedeyebrow,swillingthewineroundhisglass.“Whatdoyouthink—shouldshestickortwist?”
“Hmm.”Rakheefoldsherarms.“DoesshebelievethatthisguyisTheOne?”
“She’ssureofit.”Dominicnods.
“Wellthen,it’saneasyanswer,”Mimisayswithashrug.“ShemovestoNewYork.”
“Icouldhaveguessedyou’dsaythat.”Dominicgrinsather.“You’vealwayshadaromanticstreak.”
“IagreewithMimi,”chipsinAmy.“Taketheleapforlove.Plus,shegetstomovetoNewYork!It’sano-brainer.”
“I’mnotsosure;jury’soutonthisone,”Rakheedeclares,holdingupherhands.“Ineedmoretimetothinkaboutit.Thereareadvantagesanddisadvantagesbothwaysyoulookatit.”
Dominiclaughs.“Allright,we’llletyouthinkonit.”Hiseyesflashatme.“Harper?”
Itakeasipofwine,asthoughIneedmoretimetoconsider.Butthetruthis,beforeDominichadevenfinishedaskingthequestion,Iknewmyanswer.
“I’dstick,”Iconfirm.“She’sworkedhardforhercareer.Whyriskgivingallofthatupfor…”
Itrailoffwithashrug.
“Love?”Mimifinishesforme.
“Right.”Inod.
“AnotheranswerIthinkwecouldallsafelyguess,”Dominicsighs,givingmeaknowingsmilebeforeputtingonamelodramaticvoice.“You’retoogoodatyourjobforsomethingasfrivolousaslovetocomefirst.”
Iholdupmyglasstohim.“Exactly.”
“Oh,Iwouldn’tbesosure,”Mimisays.“Ithinkiftherightpersoncamealong,youmightreconsider.Shouldshefallheadoverheelsinlove,Harpermightprovetohavebeenasecretromanticallalong.Ifyouaskme,he’souttheresomewhere.Shejustneedstogivehimachance.”
Ilaugh,shakingmyheadather.
Iknowforafactshe’swrong,butIdon’tsayanything.
BecausethenI’dhavetoexplainwhy.
I’dhavetotellherabouthow,alongtimeago,Ididgivesomeoneachance.Someonewhosweptmeoffmyfeetwiththekindofwhirlwind,dizzyingromanceyoureadaboutinbooksandwatchinmoviesandlistentoinsonglyrics.Someonewhoreallyknewme,whounderstoodme,whomademefeelasthoughIwasallheneededtobehappy.
ItwaseverythingI’dbeentoldtohopefor:Igotlostinhiseyeswhenhelookedatme;Icouldn’tstopthinkingabouthimwhenIwassupposedtobeconcentratingonsomethingelse.AssoonasIgaveintohim,Iwasutterlyintoxicated.Igotcaughtupinfancifuldaydreamsofwhatwemightendupbeingtooneanother,ofafuturetogether.
WhenIwaswithhim,therestoftheworldsimplyfadedaway.
Mimidoesn’tknowit,butIalreadymetthatperson,theonewhoopenedmyeyestowhatitwasliketofallheadoverheels.
ButIlearnedmylesson.
SoImaynotbeabletosayitoutloud,butMimiiswrongthatsomedaymyprioritieswillshift.Sincehim,workhasalwayscomefirstandwillcontinuetodoso.Noonewillchangemymind,ofthatI’mquitesure.
Lovewon’tgetthebetterofmeagain.CHAPTERONE
FIVEMONTHSLATER
“Youdidn’thearthisfromme.”
Ijumpatthesoundofawhisperyvoiceovermyshoulderandspinroundtoseeayoungwomaninherlatetwentiesdressedinafigure-huggingblackdressandtoweringheels,holdingahalf-emptychampagneflutelooselyinherhand.
“I’msorry,”Isay.“Areyoutalkingtome?”
Shenods,glancingupanddownthepavementtocheckthatwe’realonewhilethenoiseofthepartyragesfromthebuildingafewyardsbehindher.Ithadn’tbeeneasytoretrievemyjacketfromthecloakroomattendant,whowasirritatedthathisceleb-spottingwasbeinginterrupted.MorethanafewA-listersareheretomarkthereleaseofahighlyanticipatedalbumfromMercuryPrize–winningbandDarkLights.
Iscrutinizethewoman’sface—hazeleyesframedwithheavyblack-kohleyeliner,perfectlyarchedfulleyebrows,flawlessskin,delicatefeatures,andasharpjaw—attemptingtoworkoutwhichgenreofcelebrityshebelongsto.She’sgorgeous,tallandwillowy,soshecouldeasilybeamodeloractor,butsheissostylishandwellturnedoutthatshecouldalsobeinfashion,makeup,orhair.
Isupposethere’sachanceshecouldbeajournalist,likeme—althoughjudgingbyheroutfitsheprobablyworksforoneofthehigh-endglossieswithaccesstothefashioncloset,asopposedtotheweekendmagazinesupplementofanationalnewspaper.
“LikeIsaid,youdidn’thearthisfromme,”sherepeatsinalowvoice,“butAudreyAbbothasacceptedtheleadroleinanewplay.Rehearsalsareabouttostart.”
“What?”
“ItwillbedirectedbyGabrielleReed,”thewomancontinues.
“TheonewhodirectedAStreetcarNamedDesireatTheOldViclastyear?”
“That’sher.ShewantedAudreytotaketherolefromthemomentshereadtheplay.ItwillbeAudrey’sfirstactingrolein—”
“Sixteenyears.”Ilookathersuspiciously.“Whoareyou?Howdoyouknowthis?”
Shesmilesatmeguiltily.“I’mGabrielleReed’sPA.Nicole.Nicetomeetyou.”
“Likewise,”Isay.“ButIneedtotellyouthatI’majournalist.So,ifyouwanttotakeanyofthisback,wecanpretendthisneverhappened.Idon’twantyougettingintrouble.”
“Iknowwhoyouare,HarperJenkins,”shesays,raisinghereyebrowsinamusement.“I’vebeenwaitingtogetyoualoneallnight.”
Iblinkather.“I…sorry,I’mabitconfused.I’mobviouslygratefulthatyou’veapproachedme—”
“AudreyAbbotisagoodperson,”Nicolesaysfirmly.“Shedidn’tdeservehowthepressportrayedherafter…TheIncident.”
“I’msureshedidn’t.”IthinkbacktothewhirlwindthatsurroundedAudreyin2007.
“Shedeservestohaveherstorytoldbytherightperson.”
Ismileather.“I’mflattered.ButAudreyAbbotnotoriouslyhatesjournalists.Shehasn’tspokentoone,noteventogiveaquote,since‘TheIncident,’asyouputit.Ifwhatyou’resayingistrueandshehasagreedtotakearole,Idoubtshe’llbedoinganypress.”
Nicolenods.“Butthatwon’tstopeverythingfrombeingdraggedupagain,andshewon’thavehersideofthestorytold.”Herjawclenches.“It’snotfair.”
IjumpatahornbeepingbehindmeandrealizethatmyUberhasarrived.IofferthedriverwhatIhopetobeawinningsmileandholdupafingertosignalthatI’llbejustaminute,beforeturningbacktoNicole.
“Ithinkyoushouldbetheonetodotheprofileonhercomeback,”Nicolesayshurriedly.“NottheguyatExpression.”
“JonathanCliff?”Iwrinklemynose.“Doesheknowaboutthis?”
“Notyet…thisisaverywell-keptsecret.ButIheardoneoftheproducerssayingthathe’dbeworthconsidering.”
“Terribleidea.HewroteasnarkypieceaboutAudreyatthetime.”
“Iknow.Whywouldtheyeventhinkaboutaskingsomeonelikethat?”
Isigh.“Becausehecanofferabigspreadinaprominentmonthlymagazine.It’srarepublicity,especiallyforaplay—theglossiesareusuallyreservedforactorspromotingcommercialfilms.”Ibitemylip.“AudreyAbbotisanicon.ShedeservesbetterthanJonathanCliff.”
“That’swhyIcametoyou,”Nicolesays.“Thenewsthatshe’sjoinedthecastwillgetoutatsomepoint,andIwanttoensurethatthepersonbreakingthestorywillseeherforwhosheisandwhereshe’sgoingnext.Notjustwhathappenedinherpast.”
“Itwasprettyballsyofyoutotellme,”Isay,studyingherface.“I’mimpressed.”
Shesmiles.“Agoodjournalistwouldn’trevealhersource.”
“Never.”
“So,you’llwritethestory?”sheaskshopefully.
“Ifsheletsme.It’sgoingtobetrickygettingthroughtoher.”
“Ifshe’llspeaktoanyone,it’llbesomeonelikeyou,”Nicolesaysconfidently.“Youjustneedtogetintherebeforeanyoneelse.”
Mydriverbeepsthehornagain.
“I’dbettergo,”Isay,gesturingtothecar.“Thanks,Nicole.”
“Youdidn’thearaboutanyofthisfromme.”
“Hearwhat?”Igrinather.“Enjoytherestofthenight.”
“Thanks,Harper.Goodluck.”
Sheclacksbackacrossthepavementandthroughthedoortotheparty.Iapologizetothedriverforkeepinghimwaitingbeforerummaginginmyoversizedtoteformyphone.IneedtoGoogleAudreyAbbottofindwhoitisthatrepresentsher.Whenheragent’snamepopsup,Igrin.Shamari.
HerphonegoesstraighttovoicemailandIrealizeshemightverywellbeasleep,consideringit’salreadytwointhemorning.Whoops.IenjoyedthepartymorethanIthoughtIwould.There’snowayIcanbringthisupoveremail,soIdecidetospeaktoherfirstthingtomorrow.
BeforeItossmyphonebackintotheabyssofmyhandbag,IreadtheWhatsAppswaitingformefromLiam.Hemessagedhoursagotosayhe’satmyplace,ifthat’sokay,ashisflatmatehadadateandhewantedtogetoutofhishair,buthehopesthepartyisgreatfunandifthere’sanychancethathecanjoin,tolethimknowandhewillbethere.
IfeelaflashofregretthatIgavehimakeytomyflat,swiftlyfollowedbyawaveofguilt.We’vebeenseeingeachotherforthreemonthsandIthinkheisofficiallymy“boyfriend”now.Idolikehim—he’sambitious,enthusiastic,andpassionateabouthiscareer,whichisabigturn-onforme.Nottomention,he’sattractiveinthatsexy,scruffymusiciankindofway.
It’salsoverysweetthathewantedtolethisflatmateandhisdatehavetheplacetothemselves.ButI’mnotsureIwasentirelypreparedforhimtomakehimselfcomfortableatmyflatquitesosoon,especiallywhenI’mnoteventhere.IsupposeI’vebeensinglesolong,I’msetinmyways.
Still,I’mgladIdidn’tseehismessageaboutjoiningmeattheparty.Ifhe’dbeenthere,Nicolemaynothaveapproachedme.
AudreyAbbot.Iwasobsessedwithherasateenager.Shewassoelegantandbrilliantineverythingshedid.AclassicallytrainedBritishactorwithadignifiedair,shewasamasterofrestraintandhadtheabilitytomakeyoufeelwhateverhercharacterwasexperiencingwithbarelyanymovementinherface.
Hercareerbeganintheater,thentransitionedtofilm.She’dbecomefamousinherlatetwentiesandappearedinseveralHollywoodhitsthroughoutherthirties,bothastheleadandinsupportingroles.ShewonanOscarforBestSupportingActressinafilmthatwassodull,Ididn’tevenunderstandtheending,butshewassofantasticandconvincingasthechain-smoking,hard-done-by,bitterwifeoftheranchhandthatitwasworthsittingthroughtwohoursofmenlookingcrossandtalkingaboutcattle.
IwasateenagerwhenTheIncidenthappened.Ifeltmortifiedforherandangryatthecruelheadlines.Intheaftermath,shewithdrewfromthepubliceyeandgaveupacting,eventhoughshewasonlyinherforties.Shebecameabitofajoke—TheIncidentcroppedupagainandagain,alludedtomockinglybycomediansandthroughoutpopculture.Itwasalyricinahitsongafewyearsago,andapodcasthostdescribeditasan“iconic”publicmeltdown.
BythetimeIarriveatmyflat,I’mconvincedI’mtheonlypersonwhoshouldwriteaboutAudrey’sreturntoacting.
Carefullyturningthekeyinmylock,Itiptoeinsideandshutthedoorquietlybehindme.Aloudsnorecomesfromthebedroom.Ileavemybagonthekitchentableandquietlymakemywaytothebathroom.
Afterafutileattemptattakingoffmymakeup,Ibrushmyteethandstripoffmygreenmidishirtdress,leavingitonthebathroomfloor.ItripoveronetrainerandthenanotherasIpickmywaytomysideofthebed.IhaveavaguerecollectionoftossingtheoversizedgrayT-shirtIsleptinlastnightontheduvet.Ifeelaroundandtriumphantlylocateitcrumpledatthebottomofthebed
IwishIwasthekindofpersonthatsleptinsilklingerieorslinkyposhpajamas,butthere’ssomethingcomfortingaboutaT-shirtthat’sseveralsizestoobig.LiamandIaresurelypastthepointwhereIhavetopretendIalwayssleepnaked,whichistheimpressionIwantedtogiveoffatfirst.
I’mclimbingintobedwhenIremembermyphoneandcreepbackoutofthebedroomtoretrieveitfromthedreadeddepthsofmybag.
There’salotswimmingaboutinthere:half-filledpocketnotebooks,mydigitalvoicerecorder,looselipsticksandeyelinerpencils,tissuepacks,countlessbiros,straybusinesscards,miniatureperfumesamples,crumpledreceipts,chewinggumpacks,neglectedhandmoisturizer,afewsunglassescases(unclearifthereactuallyaresunglassesinthem),ahairbrush,andthelatestpsychologicalthrillerthatI’mreading.
It’shardtofindtimetoreadforfun,sowhenIdo,Iwantrealpage-turnerswithlotsoftwistsandsuspense.Idon’thavetimeforlongdescriptionsaboutbleaklandscapes.Iwanttoknowwhomurderedwhomandwhy.
Isetalarmsfor5:55A.M.,5:57A.M.,6A.M.,6:03A.M.,and6:05A.M.beforeplacingmyphonegentlydownonmybedsidetableandsnugglingundertheduvet.Iclosemyeyes.
Liamemitsaloudsnore.
Iturnmyheadtoglareathimthroughthedarkness.
Withtheknowledgeofonlythreehours’sleepaheadofme,Iwillhimtoshutthehellup.Rudelyignoringme(duetohisstateofunconsciousness),hecontinueshisnasalsymphonyuntilI’mforcedtotaphimonthearm.
“Liam,”Iwhisper,“you’resnoring.”
Withoutreallywaking,hemutterssomethingandturnsover,fallingsilent.
Ismuglyturnaway,too.
Whenhestartssnoringagain,Igroanandpulltheduvetovermyhead,acceptingmyfate.It’smyownfault.IknowLiamsnoresandI’vebeenmeaningtobuyearplugs,butIkeepforgetting.IalsoreallywishIhadn’tgivenhimakey.Butafterlastweek,Ihadto.
LiamhadstayedFridaynightandwe’dgoneonacoffeerunthenextmorningbeforeheplannedtocookbrunchbackatmine.WewerewaitingforourdrinkswhenIgotamessagefromanagentthatoneofhersupermodelswastakingtoInstagramtoannounceherretirementattwenty-eight—tostartherownfruitfarminDevon,naturally—andwouldIliketheexclusive?Andifso,anychanceI’dbeavailabletospeaknow?
IapologeticallyditchedLiamatthecaféanddashedoutwithmyflatwhite.Itwasn’tuntilaftertheinterviewthatIcheckedmyphone.Liamhadlefthisjacketinmyflat,whichheldhishousekeysandwallet,whichmeanthehadbeenstrandedatthecaféthewholetime.Feelingterrible,Itriedtocallhim,beforemyphonepromptlydied.
IgavehimakeyonMonday.
I’mnotsurehowmuchsleepIget,butwhenmyfirstalarmgoesoff,itfeelslikemaybeI’veshutmyeyesforthirtyseconds.
Liamgrunts.
Iwhisperahalf-heartedapology,buthe’salreadybackasleep.Itrytodozeagain,butwhenthethirdalarmgoesoff,Ifinallyforcemyselfoutofbedandintothebathroom,kickingasidemyrumpleddressfromlastnight.
Aftershowering,Ibeginmydailymorningroutineofrifflingthroughmydisorganizedwardrobe,whichisonlymoredifficultinthedark.
“Whattimeisit?”Liammumblesintothepillow.
Idon’tanswerbecauseI’mbusyconfrontingthedisappointmentthatnothingnewhasmiraculouslyappearedinmywardrobewithoutmehavingtodoanyshopping.ThenInoticeaskirtthathasslippedfromitshangerandexcitedlyrecallbuyingitlastsummer—apink-purplefloralprintmaxithatlooksgreatwiththatblackblouseIknowIhavesomewhere.
Isuccessfullyfindtheshirtandtuckitintotheskirt,andthenslipmyfeetintomywhitesneakers—comfortableshoesthatIcandashaboutinareanecessityinmyjob.Checkingmyoutfitinthemirror,Inodsatisfactorilyatmyreflection.
Iwouldn’tsayIspendalotoftimeonmyclothes,butIdotakeprideinmyappearance.AfashionjournalistoncetoldmethatIhada“playfulLondonstreetstyle.”I’mnotentirelysurewhatthatmeans,butIwasextremelyflattered.IwearsunglasseseverywhereIgo—Ihaveseveralpairs,partlybecauseIlosethemalot,butalsobecausetheyaretheeasiestwaytoaccessorizewithoutmakingmucheffort.
Myfaceisabitofarushjob,butImakedowithfoundationanddabsofconcealer,alickofmascaratotrytobrightenmyhazeleyesanddisguisethetiredness,bronzerandamatteberrylipstickthatthemagazine’sbeautyeditor,Amy,recommendedforme.BeforeAmy,Iusedtoalwayswearnudelipsticksornolipcoloratall,preferringtodrawattentiontomyeyesovermylipsthankstomyslightlygoofy,bigfrontteeth,butI’vebecomeabitmoreadventurousthankstoherencouragement—theteeth,shesays,areallpartofmy“girlnextdoor”appealandIshouldbeproudofthem.
Isweepmythickwavybrownhairbackandtieitinaponytail.Icannotinterview,takenotes,orwritewithhairfallingintomyface.Atthestartofmyjournalismcareer,sometimesI’dspringforablow-drybeforeabiginterview,butI’dinevitablybecomefrustratedathavingtokeeptuckingitbehindmyearsandwouldtieitbackaboutfiveminutesafterIsatdowntowork.Iknowbetternowandtieitbackfirstthing.
Rushingbackintothebedroom,IsteproundtoLiam’ssideandleanovertogivehimapeckonthecheek.Iadmirehismopofdarkcurlyhairandhislongdarklashes.Hehasthatrelaxed,sexylookandstyleofanindierockstar,butonethatbotherstoshower.
Hemovesasmylipsbrushhisstubbledcheek,butdoesn’topenhiseyes.
“Sorry,earlystarttoday,”Iwhisperashesnugglesfartherintotheduvet.“Helpyourselftocoffeeoranythingyouneed.”
“Haveagoodday,”hemumbles,stillnotopeninghiseyes.
I’mhalfwaydownthestairswhenIremembermyphonechargingbythebedside.Irunbackup,reachingaroundformykeys—Ireallyshouldkeepthemintheinsidezippouchofmybag.
“Harper?”Liamasks,squintingatmeasIburstbackintothebedroom.
“Sorry!”Iwhisper,grabbingmyphone.“Forgotsomething.”
“Dinnertonight?”hesays,hisvoicemuffledintohispillow.
“Soundsgreat.”
ImakeittothefrontdoorbeforeIrememberthatmyAirPods,whichI’llneedtodomytranscribinglater,areonthekitchencounter.BythetimeImakeitoutsidemybuilding,IimagineI’vedoneaconsiderableamountofmygoalstepstoday,butI’llneverknowbecausethesmartwatchIboughtisgod-knows-where.
IspeedwalktoBrixtontube,hopontheVictorialine,andzipuptoOxfordCircus,emergingintothesunshineandmakingmywaytoSoho.
Ireachmydestinationatquarterpastseven.
TheLarkisatrendyindependentcafé,perfectlylocatedfarawayenoughfromRegentStreetandOxfordStreetthatitdoesn’tattracttoomanytourists,butstillcentralenoughonabustlingsidestreettofuelthelocalofficeworkersandtheWestEndartistswithitstop-notchcoffee.IorderaflatwhitetogobeforewalkingdowntheroadtoleanagainstawallandscrollthroughmyphonewhileIwait.
Athalfpastseven,IseeShamariheadingintoTheLark.Ismiletomyself.Shereallyisacreatureofroutine.Shamariisfivefootfourandaforceofnature,oneofthebestagentsinthebusiness,andrenownedforbeingfiercelyprotectiveofherclients.She’sneverafraidtogoafterwhatshewantsontheirbehalf,evenifit’sadecidedlypunchyrequest.Withherpoker-straightblackhaircutinachicbob,boldredlipstick,andafittedblackdresswithheels,Shamarilooksreadyforbattletoday.Asever.
Iputmyphoneawayandsaunterbacktowardthecafé,sippingmycoffeeandlingeringtotheside.Afewminuteslater,shemarchesbackout.Iheadstraighttowardher.
“Shamari!”Igasp,feigningcompletesurprise.
“HarperJenkins,”shesays,aknowingsmilecreepingacrossherlipsasshecomestoastopinfrontofme.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“JustgrabbingthebestcoffeeinLondonbeforeIheadtotheoffice,”Isay,gesturingtoTheLark.“Idon’tknowwhatbeansthey’reusing,butthisstuffisgold.”
“YourofficeisinVauxhall,”sheremarks.“NowherenearOxfordStreet.”
“Asmallsacrificeforthereallygoodstuff.”
“FunnyIshouldbumpintoyouattheexacttimeandplaceIgetmycoffeeeverymorning,”shesays,tiltingherheadatme.
“Londonisjustonebigsmalltown,isn’tit?Anyway,tellmeyournews!Whathaveyoubeenupto?”
“Youcanwalkmetotheofficeandtellmewhatyouwantontheway,”sheoffers,rollinghereyes.
“HowcynicalofyoutothinkIwantsomething,”Iremark,fallingintostepwithher.“ComeswithbeingBritain’smostesteemedtalentagent,Iguess.”
“Flatterygetsyoueverywhere.Comeon,Harper,gettothepoint.”
“IheardthatAudreyAbbotisreturningtoacting.”
Shehaltsinhertrackstostareatmeindisbelief.
“Howdidyoufindoutaboutthat?”
“Soit’strue,then.”Ibrighten.“That’sgreatnews!”
Shesighsbeforecontinuingtowardheroffice.“Whotoldyou?”
“YouknowIneverrevealmysources.”
“Don’tgetanyideasaboutAudrey,Harper,you’rewastingyourtime,”Shamarisaysloftily.“YouknowaswellasIdothatshedoesnotdopress.Shewon’tgoanywherenearjournalists.She’smadethatveryclear.”
“Shealsomadeitclearthatshewouldn’tactagain,butyouobviouslyhaveswaythere,”Ipointoutcarefully.
“Ididn’tswayhertodoanything.”
“Youhavetoletmedoapieceonher,”Iplead.
“Howabout,instead,youinterviewJulianNewt?”
“WhothehellisJulianNewt?”
“Mylatestclientandthefabulousactorplayinghernephew,”Shamariinformsme.“I’msureyou’vewatchedTellMeAgain,theNetflixrom-comhewasinrecently?That’srightupyourstreet.”
“Oh,yes!Themainguy?He’ssexy,”Irecall.
“Youwanttointerviewhim?He’sverycharming.”
“Ah.”Ismilemischievously.“Youhaveathingforhim.”
Sheshootsmealook.“No,Harper!He’smyclient.”
“Asexyclient.”
“Allmyclientsaresexy.Irepresentactorsandmodels,”sheremindsme.
“AndIwantaninterviewwithyourclientAudreyAbbot.”
“Harper—”
“Thinkaboutit,Shamari,”Ipress,refusingtobackdown.“Ahugeprofilepieceaboutherillustriouscareerandwelcomereturntothestage.It’sthecomebackoftheyear!Thecomebackofthedecade!Maybeeventhecentury.”
“YouwrotethataboutCraigDavid.”
“Okay,fine,Istandbythat.Butstill,AudreyAbbotreturningwillmakefrontpageofthemagazine,guaranteed.”
“Shehatesjournalists,Harper.Youneedtoletthisgo,”sheinsists.
“Shehaseveryreasontohatejournalists,butyouknowme—youknowwhatkindofjournalistIam.I’mnotinthistotearpeopledown;I’mallaboutbringingpeopleup.Withme,Audreycantellhersideofthestory—orifshedoesn’twanttotalkaboutwhathappened,we’llfocusonherlandingakickassroleaftersixteenyearsoutofthegame,inaplaywrittenbyawomananddirectedbyawoman.Shamari,thisisheropportunity.Iknowit!Don’tletsomeoneelsewritethisandscrewitup.Letmereintroducehertothepublicintherespectfulmannershedeserves.”
Shamarislowsdown,comingtoahaltoutsideherofficedoor.Shetakesasipofcoffeeandthenlooksatmeearnestly.
“Harper,didyougetmuchsleeplastnight?”
“Huh?”
“Igotacallfromyouattwointhemorningandthenyou’rewaitingformeathalfseven,actingbrightasabutton,”sheremarks.“Howdoyoudoit?”
Iholdupmycup.“ThebestcoffeeinLondon.”
Shelaughs,shakingherhead.“Youstillwiththatguy?YousaidtherewassomeonenewwhenIsawyouaboutamonthago.”
“Liam?Yes.”
“He’slastedlongerthanmost,”sheremarks.“Nicetoseeyouhappy.”
“I’lltellyouallabouthimifyouletmechattoAudreyAbbot.”
Shesighs.“You’relikeadogwithabone.”
“Youknowitwillbeexcellentpublicityfortheplay,too.Theproducerswillloveyouforsettingthisup.Theymusthaveideasforpressinthepipeline.”
“TheyknewAudreywouldn’tdoany.They’velinedupJulianNewttodomostofit.”
“Soamancantakeallthecreditforashowthatwouldn’texistwithoutthefemaletalentonandoffstage?”
Shamaricloseshereyesindespair.“I’menvisioningtheconversationI’llhavewithherwhenIpitchthis.She’llbitemyheadoffatthemeresuggestion.”
“Youcanvouchforme.DoyourememberhowyouintroducedmetoHeatherVioletatthelaunchofherdeliciousrosé?YousaidIwastheonecelebrityreporterwhogenuinelycared.”
“Iwasabottleofsaiddeliciousrosédownatthatpoint,”sherecalls.“IalsodescribedherroleinthefilmLittlePig’sGrandAdventureas‘inspired’toarenowneddirector.”
“I’msureshewasverygoodinLittlePig’sGrandAdventure.”
“Shewas,actually.Noteasyworkingwithapig.”
“Howaboutthis—aprofilepieceonAudreyAbbot’scomeback,frontpage,andI’llfeaturethatsexyNewtactorthatyouhaveathingforinoneofmyregularfeatures.Hecoulddothe‘MyLittleLuxuries’column.”
“Idonothaveathingforhim,”sheemphasizes.
Ismileandsaynothing.
Sheliftshereyestotheskybeforerelenting.“Fine.I’llseewhatIcando.”
Ibeamather.“Thankyou!Andwhensheagrees—”
“Ifsheagrees,”shecorrects.“Letmeremindyou,shehasrefusedtospeaktoanyjournalistsforsixteenyears.”
“Wecansortitquickly,yes?Iwanttobreakthisbeforeanyotherjournoscomesniffingaround.Wegotopressinthreedays—Icanturnitroundbythenandguaranteeshegetsthefrontpage.”
“Fine,fine.Youknowtheyhaven’tevenstartedrehearsalsyet?”
“Ticketswillbesoldoutwithinminutesofbeingreleased.I’llhaveheraudienceprimedandready.”Idrainthelastofmycoffee.“You’rethebest,Shamari.Callmewhenyouhaveitlockeddownandwecanorganizeatimeandplacefortheinterview.I’maroundalloftodayandtomorrow.”
“You’retalkingasthoughshe’salreadyagreedtoit,”Shamarimutters,pushingopenthedoortoherofficebuilding.
“Ifanyonecandothis,it’syou.Oh,beforeyougo,”Isayquickly,“speakingofHeatherViolet,howisshedoing?”
“Whydoyouask?”
“Isawthatherex,thatrecordproducer,wasspottedoutfordinnerwithsomeoneelse—whenIinterviewedher,shewastotallysmittenwithhim.Ireadabouttheirbreakupafewweeksago,butitstillfeelsquitesoonforhimtobeopenlydating.I’vebeenwonderingifshe’sallright.”
Shamarilooksatmecuriously.“Youreallyaren’tliketheotherjournos,areyou?Ihaven’tspokentoheraboutit,butwhenIdo,I’llsayyouwereaskingafterher.”
“Thanks.”Icheckthetimeonmyphoneandgiveherawave.“I’moff.LetmeknowwhenAudreywantstodotheinterview!”
“Ifshewantstodotheinterview,”shecallsoutafterme,hervoiceechoingdownthestreetasIhurryawayinthedirectionofthetube.“If,Harper!”CHAPTERTWO
“Harper,”CosmogreetsmeinastrainedvoiceasIhurryintothemeetingroom.“Howniceofyoutojoinus.”
Isomehowgetthesleeveofmyblousecaughtonthedoorhandle,soIhavetotakeacoupleofstepsbacktofreemyarmbeforeenteringtheroomproperly.
“SorryI’mlate,everyone,”Iannouncebrightly,addressingthewholeeditorialteamdottedaroundthelongtable.
“Oneofthesedays,youmightjustsurpriseus,Harper,andbeontimeforsomething,”Cosmogrumbles.
“I’mlatetodayforaverygoodreason,”Ijustify,slidingintotheemptyseatnearestthedoor.“I’vegotagreatscoop!”
“Oh?”Cosmosnorts.“Somepopstargetabuttlift?Orperhapsamodelhasreleasedagroundbreakingstatementthatshe—shock,horror—drinksgreenjuice?Iseemtorememberyouwerelatelastweekfora‘verygoodreason’also,whichturnedouttobechasingdownaB-listteenageactorinvolvedinsomeridiculouscause.”
Hesniggers.Ifixhimwithasteelyglare.
“Youmeanthenineteen-year-oldAcademyAwardnomineeleadingacampaigntohighlightthelackofaccesstocleanwaterforbillionsofpeopleacrosstheworld?Isthatthecauseyou’rereferringtoasridiculous?”
Cosmoflushes,hisjawclenching.
IcatchMimi’seyeacrossthetable.SheflashesmeawinningsmilebeforeturningtoobserveCosmo’sreactionliketherestoftheteam.
“Ofcoursenot,”Cosmomumbleseventually,clearinghisthroat.“Averyimportantissueintheworldtoday.Anyway,asIwassayingbeforeIwasinterrupted,weneedtodiscusscoveroptions.”
Ashebeginshisusualpracticeoffiringquestionsacrossthetableateveryeditorbutme,Ifishmynotepadoutofmybagincasebysomemiraclehe’sinterestedinanyofthepiecesIhavelinedupforthenextissue.
CosmoChambers-Smyth:editor-in-chiefofourmagazine,Narrative,andaconstantbelittlerofmyjob.Hehasbeeninhispostforayearandahalfandstillfindsmyrolehereascelebrityeditorcompletelybaffling.Ourpreviouseditorhadbeensupportiveofmywork,soitwasquitetheshockwhenduringCosmo’sfirsteditorialmeeting,heburstoutlaughingwhenIintroducedmyself,beforesaying,“No,really,whatisyouractualjobtitle?”
CosmousedtobeafeatureseditorforTheCorrespondence,thenewspaperforwhichNarrativeistheweekendsupplementmagazine,sowe’dallseenhimwaltzingthroughtheopen-planofficebefore,struttingaboutlikeheownedtheplace.Fifty-something,he’sextremelyproudofhisthickmopofdarkwavyhair,whichhemeticulouslycombstooneside.Withhispermanentlysmug,self-congratulatoryattitude,Cosmoisunabashedlypompousandentitled.Hemakessnidecommentsabouthis(nodoubtlong-suffering)ex-wife,ismuchmoreateaseinthecompanyofmen,andseemslikethetypeofguywhoisn’tafraidtosaythatit’sacryingshameprivatemembers’clubsaroundLondonopenedtheirdoorstowomen.
Hemaybeadecentwriterandproofreader,butheismajorlylackingwhenitcomestocontentthathehasnointerestinpersonally.I’vealwaysbelievedthatworkingatamagazinelikeNarrativeisaprivilege—it’sgotanexcellentreputationforreliableandwell-researchedjournalismanditcoversahugevarietyoftopics:culture,lifestyle,travel,fashion,food,and,bestofall,itincludesinsightfulinterviewswithpublicfigures.It’stheperfectmagazinetocurlupwithovertheweekend.Itseditor-in-chiefshouldbesomeonewhovaluesandcelebratesallthesethings,notjustthosethatinteresthimasanindividual.ButCosmohasconnectionshighuptheladder,sowhenthetopjobcameupatNarrative,hewasdeemedthemantoincreasethereadershipandbringinmoreadvertisingrevenue.
Thefashionandbeautyeditorssufferunderhisleadership,too,butatleastheacknowledgesthatluxuryfashionshootshelpsecurebigadbuys.Whenitcomestomywork,however,helovestoofferhissneeringopinion.
“Readersdon’tcareaboutthisperson,”hespatduringhisfirstweek,asIproudlyshowedhimthemock-upofthefour-pagespreadI’dwrittenaboutaRadioOnepresenter.“Let’scutthistoonepage.”
“What?Areyouserious?”Iasked,flabbergasted.
“IwanttomakeroomforthepieceonthenewCotswoldscountryclub,”hesaidsimply,asthoughthatclearedeverythingup.“Thesortofthingourreadersliketoreadabout.Luxuriousandaspirational.”
“Idon’tunderstand.That’sonlyaone-pagepieceatastretch,andthisoneisalreadylaidoutand—”
“Idon’trecognizethisso-calledcelebrity,”heinterrupted,wavinghishandacrossthepages.“WhyshouldIcarehowshehascometo‘loveherself’?Soundslikevainnonsense.”
“Ifyoureadit,you’llseethatshe’sbeenthroughalottogettowheresheistoday,overcomingthekindofchallengesthat—”
“Onepageisenoughonthissortofthing,”hestated,cuttingmeoffagain.“Nexttime,bringmesomethingthatfeaturespeoplewhoarehouseholdnames.WhataboutapieceonthatF1driver?Youknow,someonewho’sactuallyachievedsomething.”
Inarrowedmyeyesathim.“She’satop-tierradioDJ.”
Heshruggedbeforeusheringmeoutofhisoffice.IshouldhaveknownthenthatgettingCosmoChambers-Smythtotakemeseriouslywasgoingtobealostcause,butIheldontothehopethathewasthrowinghisweightaroundasaneweditor-in-chiefandwouldsoonsettleintotherole.Afterall,celebrityfeaturesarenotonlysomeofthemostpopularsectionsinbothourprintandonlineeditions,buttheyusuallyprovidethecoverheadlineandhelpjuicesocialengagement.Hemustrecognizethatmyfeaturesarecrucialtoournumbersbecausehehasn’tfiredme.Yet.
Still,I’mproudofwhatIcontributetoNarrative,andsinceIdon’thavemuchrespectforCosmo,I’mneverafraidtosnapback—whichheclearlyhates.
He’snotbelovedbytherestoftheeditorialstaff,either,andthey’reinmycornerwhenIneedhelpgettingmypointacross.Mimi,mybestfriendandthetraveleditor,ismylifesaver.
Sophisticated,smart,anddemure,Mimiisamazinglyobservantandthoughtful.Shealsolovesnothingbetterthantoorganizethingsandbossmearound,whichI’mthefirsttoadmitthatIneed,sincemyheadtendstobeallovertheplace.WefirstmetyearsagowhenweworkedatFlair—sadlynowdefunct—andtheneighteenmonthsafterImovedtoNarrative,thetraveleditorrolecameupandMimisnaggedit,sowecouldcontinuethebest-frienddreamofworkingtogether.
She’shappilymarriedtoKatya,atopsurgeonwhoisequallyasgorgeousandelegantasMimi.OntherareandpleasurableoccasionthatKatyaisnotonshiftandisathomewhenIgoroundtotheirsfordinner,IfeellikesuchajumbledmesscomparedwiththetwoofthemastheyglidearoundtheirimmaculateClaphamhouse—whichsomehowalwayssmellsamazing—intheirchic,creaselessclothes.IknowthatMimihasamildheartattackwhenevershesetsfootinmyflat,andshekeepsthreateningtoputinanapplicationformetoappearononeofthoseshowswheretheydeclutteryourhome,butitwouldbepointless.I’dmessitupassoonastheTVcrewleft.
BeforeLiamcameonthescene,KatyaandMimilovedtotalkaboutsettingmeupwithoneofKatya’sfascinatingand“successful”doctorfriends,butIthinkweallsecretlyknewthathercolleagueswouldn’tbethrilledattheprospectofbeingmatchedwithsomeonethatKatyaonce(affectionately)describedashavinga“haphazardpersonality.”
Mimi’snottheonlyallyIhaveontheteam—I’mluckytogetonwellwiththefeatureseditor,Rakhee,whositsnexttomeandis,crucially,reveredbyCosmo.ThiscomesinhandywhenI’mfightingforacelebritypieceandCosmoisbeingdismissive,becauseRakheewillusuallycometomyrescueandhelphimseereason.Likeeveryone,CosmofindsitdifficulttosaynotoRakhee.She’sfiercelyintelligentandintimidating,andexcellentatarguingherpoint.WhenIfirststartedatNarrative,Iwasterrifiedofher,butonceyougettoknowher,youseehersofterside.Withoutherinmycorner,Idon’tthinkCosmowouldletmewritehalfthestoriesIpitch.
“Allright,socoveroptions—Rakhee,whereareweatwiththeDonBrightpiece?”Cosmoasks,claspinghishandstogetherandleaningforwardontothetable.
“Thewriterfiledthefeaturethismorning,”sheanswers.
“Donisamantowatch,”Cosmodeclares,wagginghisfingerasthoughthisisaninvaluablepieceofwisdom.“I’vealreadygottheheadlineforthecover:‘TheFuture’sBright.’Brilliant,eh?”
“Yeah,um,I’mnotsurethisshouldbeourcoverpiece,”Rakheeremarks.
Cosmoturnstoherinsurprise.“Whynot?He’soneofthecountry’sleadingbusinessmen.Everycompanyhetouchesturnstogold.”
“Buthe’sboring,”shesaysmatter-of-factly,tappingherpenagainsthernotepad.“Thewriterhadwarnedmethathedidn’tgivehermuchinwayofquotes.Hekeepshiscardsclosetohischest,whichmaymakehimashrewdbusinessman,butalousysubject.Hedidn’tgiveheranythingpersonaltoworkwithatall.Mostlyjustprofitfigures.IshouldhavesentHarpertointerviewhim;shemighthavebeenabletodrawoutapersonality.”
“Factsandfiguresareinteresting!”Cosmoargues.
“Notthese.Look,thewriterhasdoneafinejobwithwhatshehad,butIwouldn’tbedrawingourreaderstothispieceasthemaineventoftheedition.”Rakhee’seyesflashacrossthetableatme.“Haveyougotanythinggoodthisweekthatmightmakeacoverstory,Harper?”
“Well,funnyyoushouldask,because—”
“I’vealreadydecidedthatDonBrightisourcoverstory,”Cosmodeclaresinanend-of-conversationtone.“Right,ontothetravelpages.Mimi,overviewplease.”
Rakheesighsandshrugsatme.
WhenCosmolaterdeclaresthemeetinghascometoanend,everyone’sontheirfeetinaflash,allofusdesperatetogetoutofthestuffyglassboxthatisMeetingRoomThreeandreturntoourcornerofthevastopen-planofficethathousesthemainprintnewspaper,theweekendmagazine,anddigital.Ingeneral,wedon’tmingle.Thedigitalgroupkeepstothemselves,andthereportersonthemainpaperareaveryseriouslot.
“Howdoesyourdesknotstressyouout?”Rakheeasks,appearingbehindmeonceI’veplonkedmyselfdowninmyofficechair.
Iswivelroundtofaceher.“I’mcreative.”
“You’remessy.”
“It’sorganizedmess.”
“Sure,”shereplies,unconvinced,sittingdownatherdeskrightnexttomine.“Sothatmeansyouknowwhereeverythingis?”
Iscanthecontentsofmydesk—pagesofold,scribblednotes,books(mostlycelebritymemoirs)I’vebeensentandhaven’tgottenroundtoreadingyet,ticketstubs,passes,andlanyards—andconcludeitis,admittedly,alittleovercrowded.
“AllthatmattersisIcanseemykeyboard,”Ipointout,pushingafileoffthekeyssoIcantype.“AndeverythingelseiswithinreachassoonasIneedit.Thanksforyourhelpinthemeeting,bytheway.Iappreciateit.”
“Notthatitdidanygood.”Shelookspained,focusingonherscreenandclickinghermouse.“ThatDonBrightpiecealmostsentmetosleep.”
“Don’tworry.Ihavesomeonelinedupforthefrontpage,and,whenIsecuretheinterview,she’llbeimpossibletoturndownforafrontcover,”Iinformherexcitedly.
Sheturnstome,intrigued.“Dotell.”
“Mylipsaresealed,butaskmeagaintomorrow.Infact,youwon’thavetoask.I’llbeshoutingitfromtherooftops.”
“Howwasthealbumlaunchlastnight?”Rakheeasks,suddenlyremembering.“Didanyofthemusicianssmashanything?”
“Unfortunatelynot,”Ireply,tohergreatdisappointment.“Butitwasfun.”
“Rockstarsaren’twhattheyusedtobe.DidyoutakeLiam?”
“No,buthewasatminewhenIgothomelastnight.”
Sheraiseshereyebrows.“Interesting.He’squicklybecomealive-inboyfriend.”
“No,no,”Iinsist,openingmyinboxandwatchingtheunreademailsbegintoload.“Heneededsomewheretostaybecausehishousematehadadate.”
“Thanksforleavingmebehind,traitor,”Mimihissesasshesitsatherdesk,directlyoppositemine.“Cosmocorneredmeattheendofthemeeting.”
“Ugh,sorry.”Igrimace.“Whatdidhewant?”
“Hewasanglingforanotherpresstrip,I’llguess,”Rakheemutters.
Miminodsandleansinbetweenourdesktops.
“IknowwhenhehearsaboutthetripforthatFrenchgolfclub,he’llwanttotakethespot,butIwasgoingtoofferittoDominic.Iknowhe’sintogolf.”Mimisighs,sittingbacktologin,herperfectlymanicuredfingerstappinggentlyacrossthekeys.
“Don’ttellCosmoaboutituntilit’stoolate,”Rakheesuggestsasshetypesloudly,incompletecontrasttoMimi,asthoughthekeyshavesomehowoffendedher.“SayDominicisalreadybookedin.”
“Icantry.”Mimitiltsherheadtolookatmepastherscreen.“Howwastheravelastnight?”
“Thealbumlaunchwasfun.”
“Whywereyoulatethismorningandwhat’sthisbigcoverstory?”Mimiaskseagerly.“Didtheleadsingerofferyouanexclusiveonhissolocareer?Ithinkhe’sintoyou.”
Ilookatherinpanic.“Solocareer?Wheredidyouhearthat?Ohmygod,whendiditbreak?Ican’tbelieveit—theywenttoschooltogetherandstartedthebandwhentheywereall,like,fifteenyearsoldinagarageatoneoftheirparents’houses!Theycan’tbesplittingup!”
“Iwasjoking!”Mimiholdsupherhands.“Whoa,thatwasintense!AndyoucompletelyskippedoverthepartwhereIsaidthattheleadsingerofafamousbandhasacrushonyou.”
“Firstly,thatjokewasnotfunny.Secondly,nohedoesn’t.”
“Hesentyouthatboxofdonuts.”
Rakheegasps.“Someonesentindonuts?When?”
“Lastweek,”Mimisays.“Ithinkyouwereoutatyourdentistappointment.No,wait…thatwastheweekbefore.Wherewereyoulastweekondonutday?”
Rakheewavesherhand.“Doesn’tmatter,whydidhesendyoudonuts?”
“Theyweren’tfromhim,theywerefromtheband.Andit’sbecauseIwroteapieceabouthowwonderfultheyare,”Ilaugh.“TheleadsingerisdatingtheglamorousactorfromthatsitcomabouttheIrishpubinNormandy.Isawthemtogetherlastnightandtheylookedveryhappy.IthinkshemightbeTheOneforhim,youknow.”
“DidyoubringLiamtothesoirée?”Mimiasks.
“Rakheeasked,too.You’remakingmefeelbad—what’retherelationshiprulesonthesethings?ShouldIbeaskinghimtoworkevents?”
“I’mnotsureanyonewouldenjoybeingyourplus-one,”Mimicomments.“Youflitroundtheroomatahundredmilesperhourtalkingtoanyoneandeveryone.Itmakesmedizzy.”
“It’smyjob.”
“Liamwaswaitingforherwhenshegothomelastnight,though,”RakheeinformsMimiwithoutlookingupfromherwork.
“Ooh.”Mimismileswickedlyatme.“Bootycall.”
“Itwasnotabootycall,”Itellthemregretfully.“HewasasleepwhenIgotbackandwhenIleftthismorning.Wedidn’tevenspeak.Ishouldcheckmyphoneactuallytoseeifhe’smessaged;hesaidsomethingaboutdinnerlater.”
Istartsearchingaroundmyfeetformybag.Ispinroundinmyswivelchairafewtimes,examiningthefloor.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Mimiasks.
Igroan.“Ileftmybaginthemeetingroom.”
“I’llcomewithyou.Iwantacoffeeanyway,”Mimisays,standing.“I’mguessingyouwon’tturndownacoffee,Rakhee?”
“Youknowmesowell,”Rakheesays,typingawayfuriouslyagain.
Gabby,oureditorialassistantwhositsacoupleofrowsbehind,overhears.
“Icangetyourcoffeesifyoulike,”shesweetlyoffers,glancingupfromherscreen.
“That’sokay,”Isay.“Ineedtorescuemybagfromthemeetingroom.”
“You’dloseyourheadifitwasn’tscrewedon,”chucklesDominicfromthepicturedeskaswewanderby.
“Hey!IfyoustillwantearlyscreeningticketstothenextRyanReynoldsmovie,I’dbecarefulaboutyourtone,”Isaybreezily.
“HaveItoldyoulatelyhowamazingyouare?”headdsquickly.
“That’smorelikeit.”Igrin,winkingathim.
Mimiiswaylaidatthepicturedeskaboutoneofthehotelsshe’sfeaturinginanall-inclusiveround-up,soIgoahead,swiftlypassingCosmo’sglassofficethatissituatednexttoMeetingRoomThree.Facingawayfromthedoor,he’sonthephone,leaningbackinhischairwithhisfeetonthedesk.Hiseyesarefixedonthebookcasethatrunsthelengthofthewall.
Ibethe’snotlisteningtoawordoftheconversation,insteadadmiringthatridiculoustrophythat’sprideofplaceinthemiddleoftheshelves.
WhenCosmofirstmovedintohisnewoffice,itwasthefirstthingtobeunpacked,carefullypositionedinthecenterofthebookshelves.Weallassumeditwasajournalismaward,butwhenMimimadethemistakeofaskingaboutit,shegotalong-winded,blow-by-blowaccountofhowhe’dwonabowlingtournamentthepreviousyear.Hedropsitintoconversationwheneverhecan,whichyou’dthinkwouldbequitetricky,buthemanagesitsurprisinglyoften.
IreachMeetingRoomThreeandspotmybagstraightawaythroughtheglass,onthefloorunderthetable.
I’vealreadyenteredbeforeIrealizethattheroomisn’tempty.
Amanisstandingattheotherendofthetable,andheglancesupfromhisphoneatthesoundofmyfootsteps.
Oureyesmeet.
Mycheeksburnhotunderhisintensegaze,hispiercingbluestareseemingtolookrightthroughme.Hisbrowfurrowsandhisjawclenches,asthoughhe’scrossandconfusedatthesametime.Iwonderwhathe’sthinking.Whetherhe’sremembering.Mywholefaceisonfire.
“Harper?”
Mimi’svoicemakesmejump.Hestartlesaswell,bothofusjoltedfromourthoughts.
“Sorry,coming,”Icroak,quicklycrouchingdown.
HeremainssilentasIreachformybagandpullittowardme.Mimigiveshimafriendlysmileandapologizesforthedisturbance.Frowning,hedoesn’tsayanything.
Withoutprolongingtheawkwardnessanyfurther,Iturnonmyheelandmarchout,Mimihurryingtokeepup.
“Whatwasthat?”sheasks,fallingintostepwithmeaswemakeourwaydownthesideofthebusynewspaperdeskstowardthekitchen.
Iplayinnocent.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Um,theeyecontact?Thetensioninthatroom!”
“Therewasn’tanytension,”Iclaim.
“Isn’tthatguyonthefeaturesteamforthepaper?Healwayslookscrossaboutsomething,butevenIcanappreciatethatheisverypretty.He’slikeamodelmasqueradingasareporter,”shemuses,beforesnappingherfingersassheremembers.“Jansson.ButIcan’trememberhisfirstname?Itwillcometomeinaminute.”
“Ryan.”
“That’stheone.RyanJansson.Ithinkhe’sScandinavian.”
“HisdadisSwedish,”Isay,withoutthinking.
Aswereachthekitchenarea,shestops.“Wait.Doyouknowhim?”
“No,coursenot,”Isay,flustered.“Hemusthavementioneditinoneofhisarticles.”
“Well,hewantsyou,”shesurmises.
“Youthinkthatabouteveryone.Aminuteago,youthoughtthatsingerwasprofessinghislovetomeviadonutdelivery.”
“I’mtellingyou,HarperJenkins,thatguywasundressingyouwiththosecrazy-beautifuleyesofhis,”shesays,movingtothecoffeemachine.“It’sashameheworksforthedarkside.DidItellyouthatoneofthenewspaperguystriedtotakemymeetingroomlastweek?Hetriedtoarguethathismatterwasmorepressingbecausehehastighterdeadlines.Whatever,pal.Ifyouwantameetingroom,thenyouneedtobookone,nottrytoswoopinthereatthelastminuteand…”
ItrytofocusonMimi,relievedshehasforgottenallaboutRyanJansson.
Ifonlyitwassoeasyformetogetthosecrazy-beautifuleyesoutofmyhead
ELEVENYEARSAGO
JULY2012
Iarriveatexactly8:57A.M.,whichconsideringthedelaysIwasupagainstontheNorthernLinethismorning,Iconsideragreatsuccess.Iwasaskedtobeherebynine.
I’mflusteredandsweaty,havingrunfromthetube.Ithrowmyselfintoarevolvingglassdoor,emergingintothecool,modernlobbyofTheDailyBulletinInc.offices,andhurryovertothereceptiondesk.
Iglancedownmyfronttocheckmyoutfitandrealizemyskirthasalreadygoneskew-whifffrommyhecticjourney,thebuttonsthataremeanttorundownthemiddlenowalignedwithmylefthip.Ihurrytoshiftitandcheckthatmyfairlycrumpledwhiteshirtdoesn’thaveanysweatpatchesonit.
“CanIhelpyou?”thewomanbehindthedeskasks,settingdownthephone.
Isnapmyheadupandplasterasmileacrossmyface.“I’mHarperJenkins,theintern.It’smyfirstdaytoday.”
“Whichdepartment?”sheaskstiredly,typingintohercomputer.
“Editorialonthemainpaper,TheDailyBulletin.”
Shecontinuestappingawayandthenpressesreturnonherkeyboard,theprinternexttohercomingtolifeandproducingatinysquareofpaperthatsheliftswithhermanicuredfingersandslidesintoalanyard.
“Thisisyourtemporarypassfortoday,”shesays,slidingitacrossthedesk.“You’llneedtogotothefirstflooratsomepointthisafternoontohaveyourpicturetakenforyourfullpass,whichwilllastyouthetwomonths.Haveaseatovertherewiththeotherinternandsomeonewillbehereshortlytopickyouup.”
“Great!Thankssomuch!”
Shegivesmeadismissivenod,hereyesfocusedonhercomputerscreen.Ireachintomyhandbagforthetravel-sizedhairbrushlurkinginthedepthssomewhere,awarethattheheatofthetubeandtheracetotheofficewillhavecausedacertainamountoffrizzthatI’dliketotamebeforemeetingmy(hopefully)futureemployer.
Alltheseatsinthewaitingareaareemptybarone:the“otherintern,”Itakeit.He’swearingasuitandtieandit’sobvioushe’snervousbecausehe’ssittingboltuprightandhekeepsglancinghopefullyattheelevatorswheneveronepingsandthedoorsopen.
AsIjoinhim,unsuccessfullytuggingmybrushthroughthebird’snestthatismyhair,helooksupandoureyesmeet.
Twothingsareimmediatelyobvious:
1.??HehasthemostbeautifulblueeyesI’veeverseen.veeverseenveeverseenveeverseenveeverseenveeverseen
2.??Iutterlybafflehim.
Hisbrowfurrowsinconfusion,hiseyesnarrowingasIbreezeover,andIsuddenlyfeelawaveofbothanxietyandindignationundersuchintenseandshamelessscrutiny.Heisgorgeous,withhisdefinedjawline,combedfairhair,andstrikingeyes,butthere’ssomethingstandoffishabouthim.
HetensesasIapproach.
Decidingtogivehimthebenefitofthedoubt,Iofferawarmsmile,makingabeelineforthechairnexttohis.
“Hi,”Isaybrightly.“I’mHarper.I’manintern,too.It’sreallyniceto…uh…oh…hangon…”
ItrailoffasIbattlewithmyhairbrushthatseemstohavebecomeentangledwithapreexistingknot.Strugglingtoreleaseit,Iattempthumor,droppingmyhandstomywaistandleavingthehairbrushdanglingfrommyhead.
“Youthinkthey’llnotice?”Iquip.
Helooksbewildered,thelinesonhisforeheaddeepeningashestaresatme.Whenhedoesn’tanswer,Ishrug,thenproceedtowrenchthebrushfrommyhair
“IsupposeIshouldlearnfromthis,”Isaytohim.“Iwasstandingonthetube,rightattheendofthecarriageandthewindowwasopen.Greatspotforgettingabreezewhenyou’reslammedinlikesardines,butterribleforyourhair,right?”
Hehesitates,beforesayingquietly,“Okay.”
“So,what’syourname?”
“Ryan.”
“Ididn’trealizethereweretwoofus.”
“Excuseme?”
“TwointernsonTheDailyBulletin.”
Hiseyeswideninhorror.“You’reaninternatTheDailyBulletin,too?”
“That’sright.Herefortwomonths.You?”
“Same.”
“Lookslikewe’llbeworkingtogether,then!”
Heturnshisheadawayfromme,staringstraightonbeforemuttering,“Maybewe’llbeindifferentdepartments.”
Mysmiledrops;I’mstunnedathisovertrudeness.Fine.Ryanisanabsolutedickhead,andhebetterhopewe’reindifferentdepartments.
Afterfifteenminutesofsilence,awomaninhertwentiesdressedheadtotoeinblackwalkstowardus,typingsomethingintoherphone.Shecontinuestotapawayforaminutebeforetearinghereyesawayfromherscreenandlettingoutasighasthoughwe’redisturbingher.
“RyanandHarper?”
“Yes,hi!”Isay,jumpingtomyfeet.
Ryanstands,too,silent.
ShedoesadoubletakeatRyan,butthenthinksbetterofoglinghimandclearsherthroat.
“I’mCelia,”shesays.“I’mtheeditorialassistant,andI’llbeshowingyoutheropes.You’vegotyourtemporarypasses?”
Remainingmute,Ryangesturestothepasshangingroundhisneck.
“Metoo,”Isay,“I’vegotitright…uh…”
Irealizeit’snotroundmyneck,soIcheckthetopofmyhandbag,butit’snotthere,either.It’snotonthechairsinthewaitingarea,nordoesitappeartobeonthefloor.IcanpracticallyhearRyanrollinghiseyesasIlookaroundfrantically.
“Excuseme,HarperJenkins?”
Iturntoseethereceptionisttappingthecounter.Imusthaveforgottentotakeitinthefirstplace.
Iscurryoverandgrabitwithanapologeticsmile.“Whoops!Thankssomuch!”
“Great,”Celiasaysdryly,“let’sgo.”
Blushing,Ifollowthemtowardtheelevator,mystomachfluttering.Itakeadeepbreathandremindmyselfthatthisismychancetoworkwithrealjournalists—andthatifIworkhardenough,maybetherewillbeajobformeattheendofthesummer.Iwantthatsobadly.
TheliftdoorspingopenandIshuffleinbehindaloof,uptightRyan.
Ireallyhopehe’srightandthey’renotgoingtomakeusworktogether.
Withanyluck,Iwon’thaveanythingtodowithhim.CHAPTERTHREE
AfterMimiandIreturntoourdesks,Ireluctantlystarttrawlingthroughmyemails,replyingtocontactsatvariousPRcompanies—Iacceptaninvitationforascreeningofanupcomingromanticcomedy,butdeclineoneforananimationaboutacello-playingoctopus,andreadthroughapressreleaseaboutafootballerwho’slaunchingarangeofcolorfulchildren’sfootballboots.
IhearthejournalistsfilingoutofMeetingRoomThreeandlookuptoseeRyanwalkingoutatthebackofthegroup.Iquicklyduckmyheadbehindmyscreen.
Wemaytechnicallyworkonseparatepublications,butithasn’tbeeneasyavoidinghiminanopen-planofficesincehegotthejobatTheCorrespondencealittleoverayearago.WhenCosmomovedovertoNarrative,someoneonhisteamwaspromotedtofeatureseditor,andtheyhiredRyantofilltheemptyreporterspot.
WhenIfirstsawhimlurkingabouttheplacelastyearandrealizedwithhorrorthathe’dleftthebusinessmagazineI’dlastheardheworkedat,Imadeitveryclearthatitwouldbebetterforustopretendwe’dnevermetbefore.WhenIaccidentallycaughthiseyeasIstrolledpasthisdeskduringhisfirstweek,henoticeablystraightenedandlookedasthoughhemightsaysomething,butIquicklylookedawayasthoughIdidn’trecognizehim.
JustseeingRyanJanssonputsmeinabadmood.Ihatethathehasthateffectonmeafterallthistime.
AremindersuddenlypopsuponmyscreenthatIamdueatClaridge’sforapressjunketinhalfanhour.
Bollocks.Iforgot.
AsI’mrushingpasthisoffice,Cosmowearilycallsout,“Whereareyouofftothistime,Harper?”andI’mforcedtopokemyheadroundhisdoor.
“PressjunketforthenewIsabellaBlossomfilm.”
“IalwaysthoughtBellaBlossomsoundslikeanairfreshener,”heremarks,wrinklinghisnoseindisapproval.
Iforcealaugh.“Iprobablywon’tmentionthatinourinterview.”
“No.”Hestrokeshischin.“She’spregnant,isn’tshe?ShedidthatVoguephotoshoot.”
“Yep,she’sdueinafewweeks.”
“She’sabignamethesedays—abigHollywooddraw.She’dmakeagoodcandidateforthemagazine,actually.”
“Yes.”Igritmyteeth.“That’swhyI’mofftospeaktoher.”
“Iknowyoudon’tgetmuchtimeatjunkets,butdotrytobuildarapport,”heinstructspompously.“Thenwecangetherlinedupforafeatureinthefuture,onceshe’sbackfrommaternity.”
“Yes,”Irepeat.“I’mawarethatbuildingarapportisalwaysagoodidea.I’veactuallymetherbrieflybefore,soI’ll—”
“Oh,andwordofadvice:don’tbelate,”hesays,turningbacktohisscreen.“Peopleloserespectforjournalistswhentheydon’tshowupontime.”
Ittakeseverybitofwillpowernottoshout“WHYDOYOUTHINKIWASRUSHINGOUTOFHERE?!”andinsteadsay,“Gotcha,”beforescuttlingoffasthoughhe’sonlyjustgivenmetheidea.
Afterafewstopsonthetube,I’mbacktowhereIwasthismorning,rushingoutofOxfordCircus,andreachingformyphoneinmybagasIheadtowardthejunket.
IdecidetocallLiam,andheanswersonthethirdring.
“Hey,howareyou?”hesays,andassoonasI’veheardhisvoice,Iforgivehimforthesnoring,becausehesoundssopleasedtohearfromme.
“Busy,butgood!Iwantedtosaysorryforcominginsolatelastnightandthendashingoutthismorning.”
“Don’tworry,Iwasn’texpectingyoutobearound.Iknewyouhadaworkthing.”
“I’msorryIdidn’tseeyourmessagesaboutcominguntilitwastoolate.”
“IwasworriedyouwereignoringmeandI’dmadeafooloutofmyself.”Helaughsnervously.
“No,ofcoursenot!”Iassurehim.“YouknowwhatI’mlikewithmyphone.”
“Yeah,”hesays,andIhearabitofirritationinhisvoice.“Diditgowell?Didyoumeetlotsofinterestingpeople?Getsomegoodgossip?”
Iflinch.Mostpeopleassumethatmyjobisallaboutshowbizrumors,breakingscandalousstories,anddishingdirt.Butthat’snotwhatIdo.
Iinterviewsomeofthemostinterestingandtalentedpeopleinthearts,discussingtheircareersbutalsotryingtounderstandthemasindividuals,sothatIcancraftawell-written,engaginginterviewthat’sgoingtocaptivatereaders.
Idon’tdogossip.Idon’tshameanyoneorspeculateontheupsanddownsoftheirlovelives.Mimi’srightthatIhaveahabitofbecomingtooinvested.Myjobistoimmediatelyestablishrapportwithsomeonewhoisinclinedtobewaryaroundme,andwhilesomejournalistsmightbeabletofaketheirwarmthorinterest,Ican’t.Igenuinelycareaboutthejoysoftheirwork,theirheartbreakingmoments,howtheyfoundthestrengthtogothroughdifficultperiods,andwhatthey’rehopingforthefuture.
ItoldLiambeforethatIdon’tlikebeingseenasagossipmonger,butitwasafterwe’dhadatleastthreeespressomartinisonourseconddate,soIshouldn’texpecthimtoremember.
“Ispoketoalotofpeople,”Ireplyinstead.“Howwasyournight?”
“Veryproductiveactually.Isentalotofemailstopotentialclients.Someofthemwereprobablyatthatpartylastnightwithyou.”
“Really?”
“Ireckonso.Makesyouthink,itwouldbeeasierformetocomealongwithyounexttime.”
“Oh,”Isay,abittakenaback.
“So,nextevent—youcanshowmeofftoeveryone?”hepresses,goingfromabusinessvoicetoacuteone.
Ilaugh.“I’llseeifIcanwrangleaplus-one.”
“You’rethebest,Harper.Andhey,Icancookforyoutonight,ifyoudon’thaveplans.YoulikeThaigreencurry,right?Imakeameanone.”
“Soundsgreat,thankyou.I’mjustatClaridge’s,soI’dbettergo.It’sapressjunket.”
“Cool!Ifyouseeanyhotnewactorstherelookingforrepresentation,putinagoodwordforme,yeah?Ishouldgiveyouastackofmycards.”
Liamisatalentagent,namelyformusiciansandactors.Heworkedatanagency,buthedidn’tlikethemanagementstyle(aka,hedidn’tlikebeingmanaged)anddidn’tfeellikehewasgoingtomoveupanytimesoon.Theydidn’tvaluehispotential.So,aboutamonthago,hebrokeouttosetuphisownagency,takingtwoclientswithhim:asinger-songwriter,whohasrecentlydonesomejinglesforcommercials,andamusical-theateractor.
Personally,IthoughtitwasabitsoonforLiamtobranchoutonhisown.Mosttalentagentswaituntilthey’vemadeanameforthemselvesandhavehugeclientstopoach.ButLiamhasanincredibleconfidenceandself-belief—justshyofcocky—andwhenhetalksabouthiscareer,it’swiththeutmostcertainty.
Imethimatanindustryeventafewmonthsagowhenhewasstillathisoldagency.WegotchattingandIwasinstantlydrawntohispassionforhiswork.Heloveshelpingmusiciansfindtheiraudienceandtalkedaboutthatvocationsozealously,Icouldn’thelpbutfeelasenseofcamaraderie.Somanypeoplediscusstheirworklikeit’sachore,anditwasgratifyingtospeaktosomeonewhoalsogenuinelyloveswhattheydo.Hedidn’tjusttalkabouthimself,either,unlikethelastfewdatesI’dattempted.Hewasgenuinelyfascinatedwithmeandmyjob.Whenhefoundmeattheendoftheeventtoaskformynumber,Iwashappytogiveittohim.
IhastilyendthecallandscurrypasttheporterattheentrancetoClaridge’s,whotapshishatasheholdsopenthedoor.
“Harper!”
IsmileasIspotRachaelWalkerglidingacrosstheshinylobby.She’soneofmyfavoritefilmpubliciststoworkwith—she’sgreatatherjob,andshe’salsoalotoffun.We’vehadsomewildnightstogetherovertheyears.
“Whydoyoualwayslooksogorgeous?”Iask.
Shegivesmeakissoneachcheek,herexpensiveperfumeremindingmethatIforgottospritzmyselfthismorning.WhenIgetachance,IcanputthoseJoMalonesamplesswimmingaboutinmybagtouse.
Rachaelisaboutmyheight,aroundfivefootfive,butlivesinheelssoshealwaysseemstaller.Withlongwavygoldenblondhairthatlooksfreshlyhighlighted,she’ssportingperfectlywingedboldblackeyelinerandamattedarkberrylipstick.Today,she’sinayellowblazeroveracrispwhiteshirt,withhigh-waisted,wide-legblacktrousers—shecanbeanywherewithasmartdresscodeatthedropofahat.
“IgetanexcellentdealonBotoxwiththebestinthebusiness,thankstomycelebrityreferrals,”shesaysquietly,takingastepback.“Youlookfabulous,too.”
“You’rejustbutteringmeupforafrontpagefeature.”
“Alwaysontheclock,babe.”Shegrins,gesturingformetofollowhertowardtheelevators.“I’vebeenmeaningtothankyouforallthatspaceyougavetotheperioddrama—Itoldyouitwasgoingtobeahit.”
“IhadtofightCosmotoothandnailforthatspread,”Itellherasshepressesthebuttonandwewaitsidebyside.“So,howlongdoIgetwitheveryonetoday?”
“Tenminutes.”
“Orfifteen?”Icounterhopefully.
Shegivesmeasternlook.“Ten.”
Itrymyluck.“HowaboutfifteenminuteswithIsabellaBlossomandthenjusteightminuteswitheveryoneelse?Thatseemsfair.”
Shecan’thelpbutsmileatmyattempt.“Youknowwe’reonaschedule,Harper.You’renottheonlyjournalisthere,today.Althoughyouarethelatest.”
“I’mperfectlyontime!”Icheckmyphonescreenastheliftpingsitsarrival.“Sortof.Blamemyeditor.HeinsistedongivingmeadviceaboutcelebrityinterviewsbeforeIleft.”
“Thatbuffoongaveyouadvice?Goon,Icoulddowithalaugh.Whatdidhesay?”sheasks,followingmeintotheelevator.
“ThatIshouldn’tbelate.”Igroan,leaningagainstthemirrorwhileshepressesthebutton.“Whydoyouneedalaughtoday?”
Shesighsheavily.“Haveyougotyourjournalisthaton?”
“I’llwhipitrightoff.You’reofftherecord.”
Shesmilesgratefully,watchingthenumbersontheelevatorgoup.“IsabellaBlossom’sboyfriendishere.”
“Theindie-filmdirector?”
“Yeah,Elijah.”Shefrowns.“He’sathorninmyside.They’vebeenarguingallday.She’stoldhimtomakehimselfscarceforthejunket—he’snotinvolvedinthismovieatall—buthe’sinsistingonhangingaround.He’sputtingherinabadmood.”
Igrimace.“Uh-oh.Pressjunketandactorsinabadmood…neveragoodcombination.”
“Never,”sheconfirms.
“Isn’thenewonthescene?He’snotthefatherofthebaby,ishe?”
“They’vebeentogetherthreemonths,”sheconfirms.“Thisshouldbethehoneymoonperiod.”
“Promotingafilmisastressfultime,”Ireason.“It’sprobablyputtingabitofstrainontherelationshipwithherbeingsobusy.Itwillgeteasieroncethisbitisover.”
“Let’shopeso,”shesaysasthedoorsopenontothetopfloor.
Westepintothethrongofjournalistschattingastheywaittobeshowntothenextactor,whilepublicistsandassistantsdartaroundwithiPads,tryingtofindwhoeverthey’vebeensenttolocate.
Anhouratapressjunketcanfeellikealifetimeasyou’reshepherdedfromroomtoroomtoaskthesamequestionsaseveryotherjournalistthere,theactorsforcedtorepeatwhytheyweredrawntothisrole,thisscript,thisdirector,thissetting,whentheylikelyfinishedfilmingitayearagoandcan’tremembertheanswerstoanyofthosequestions.
Togivetheactorsabitofabreakandinanattempttostandoutfromotherjournalists,I’vediscoveredthatit’sbesttothrowinsomekookyquestionstotrytomakethemlaugh,whichconsequentlyleadsthemtoanswerquestionswithalittlemoreeaseandenthusiasm.Although,Ihavetoadmitthatmethoddoesn’talwayswork—IoncejokedwithaparticularlystraightlacedactoraboutditchingthejunketandflyingtogethertotheBahamasand,withoutcrackingevenahintofasmile,hesaid,“Idon’tthinkthatwouldbeappropriate,”andpromptlycuttheinterviewshort.
TodayIgetsomenicequotesfromtheotheractorsinthefilm,but,likeeveryoneelse,I’mheretogettimewithIsabellaBlossom,thestarwhowilldrawinthecrowds.She’satalentedactorbutshe’salsogotahugesocialmediafollowing,andlotsofendorsementdeals.Herfaceseemstobeeverywhereatthemoment,frompromotingmakeupbrandstomaternityitems.She’syoung,powerful,andaspirational,whichcouldmakeheradifficultinterviewsubject.
Celebritieswithabigsocialfollowingtendtoknowwhatsellsandwhatdoesn’t,whatengagesanaudienceandwhatturnsthemoff.Theycancreatetheperfectpersonaandrarelyputatoeoutofline—it’swhyItrytoavoidinterviewing“influencers.”Theyreeloffwell-rehearsedsoundbitesandaren’tveryforthcomingontheiropinions,avoidinganytopicsthatmightputtheirbrandendorsementsatrisk.Icompletelyunderstand,butitdoesn’tmakeforthemostengagingread.ButIsabellaisanactorfirstandforemost,soI’mhopingshe’llgivemesomegoodstuffabouthercreativeprocessattheveryleast.
WhenI’mfinallyusheredintohersuitebyRachael(whoremindsmeunderherbreaththatIhave“tenminutes,notfifteen”),IfindIsabellainacomfortablearmchairbythewindow,alargevaseofflowersonthetablenexttoher.
Therearesomepeopleinthisworldwhojustlooklikemoviestars,andIsabellaBlossomisoneofthem,withthenametomatch,asthoughherparentsknewthatonedayitwouldbeemblazonedacrossmovieposters.She’sstrikinglybeautiful,withbig,darkeyes,razor-sharpcheekbones,andplump,fulllips,andherlong,blackcurlsareimpossiblyglossy.
She’sinaboldredmaxisummerdresswithaflowingskirtandatiedwaistthatshowsoffherbump.
“Hi!”Isay,headingover.“I’mnotsureifyou’llrememberme,I’mHarper,from—”
“It’snicetoseeyouagain,Harper,”shesmiles,abouttogetup.
“Sitdown,please,”Iinsist,plonkingmyselfonthechairoppositeherwhileRachaellurksinthebackground,theretomonitorproceedingsandmakesurenothinggetsuntoward,likeaRegencychaperone.“Youlookgreat.Notlongnowuntilyourduedate,howareyoufeeling?AndI’maskingthatofftherecord.”
“Likeabeachedwhale,”shesays,slumpingbackinherseat.“Everyonetalksabouttheglowofpregnancy.Noonementionstheconstipation.”
“Prunejuice,”Irecommend,placingmydigitalvoicerecorderonthetableandflickingthroughthepagesonmynotepadtofindmypreparedlistofquestionsthatIjotteddownonthetubeonthewayhere.“Acelebritynutritionisttoldmeshehadstockpiledthestuffwhenshewaspregnant.”
“Yeah,I’vetriedthat.It’sgross.”Shewrinkleshernose.“Thebeautifuljourneyofpregnancy.Whataloadofbollocks.”
Ilaugh.“Now,ifonlyyou’dsaidthatontherecord—thatwouldmakeagreatcoverline.AreyoureadyformetopressRecord?Iknowwe’reonatightschedule.”
“Please,”shesays,nodding,whileRachaelchecksherwatch.
Ipressthebuttononmydigitalvoicerecorder.
“So,IsabellaBlossom,why—”
Theadjoiningdoorsofhersuitesuddenlyburstopenandamanmarchesinwithathunderousexpressiononhisface.
“DidyoutellthatJonathanCliffguyfromExpressionthatIdidn’twritethelighthousemovie?”heseethes,stridingacrosstheroomtowardus.
Rachaeltenses,wideninghereyesatme.Itakethistobethecharmingnewfilm-directorboyfriend,Elijah.
“Honey,”Isabellasayswithafixedsmile,“thisisHarper;she’sajournalistfrom—”
“Yeah,hi,Idon’thavetimeforintroductions,”hesays,dismissingmewithawaveofhishandbeforeaddressingheragain.“DidyousaythattotheExpressionjourno?Youknowhewritesscathingarticlesabouteveryone!”
“Wecantalkaboutthisinaminute.I’minthemiddleofaninterview,”shesays,hersmilewobbling.
“Ican’tbelieveyou!”Herunshishandsthroughhisshoulder-lengthbrownhair,pacingbackandforth.“Iwrotethatmovie!”
“You’redirectingthemovie,”Isabellasays,frowningathim.“Youdidn’twriteit.It’sadaptedfromanovelandtheauthorhaswrittenthescript.”
“Yes,butIhavehadmajorinfluenceonthescreenplay!”heargues.“Youknowthat!”
“Elijah,”Rachaelinterjectscalmly,“perhapsyoucouldfindanothertimeto—”
“I’msofedupwiththisbullshit!”ElijahragestoIsabella,ignoringRachael’sattempttodiffusethesituation.“It’slikeyougooutofyourwaytobringmedown.”
“Itwasanhonestmistake!”Isabellasays,lookinghurt.“Iwasn’ttryingtoupsetyouormakeyoulookbad.Heaskedwhowrotethescript,soItoldhim.Ididn’trealizeyouweregettingawritingcredit,too.I’msureyoucanspeaktothejournalistandcorrecthim?”
“Youdon’tthinkItriedthat?”hesays,hiseyesflashingwithanger.“Itdoesn’tmatternow,anyway.He’sjustgoingtothinkIconsultedonthescript,butthatIdidn’twriteit.”
“But…youdidn’twriteit,”Isabellapointsout,confused.
Hestopspacing,turnstoher,andputshishandsonhishipsbeforeinhalingdramaticallythroughhisnose,thethreeofuswatchinginsilence.Hefinallyspeaks,slowlyandsteadily,asthoughhe’stryingtostophimselffromimploding.
“That’snotthepoint,”hehisses.
“Okay,youknowwhat?You’renotmakinganysense,”Isabellatellshimcrossly.“AndI’minthemiddleoftheinterview.Wecandiscussthislater.”
“So,asalways,Ihavetoworkaroundyouandyourcommitments?”hereplies,hiseyesnarrowedtoslits.“No,thanks.I’moutofhere.”
Heturnsonhisheelandstrutsoutofthesuite,slammingthedoorbehindhim.Theroomfallsintosilence.Isabellacloseshereyesindespair.
Rachaelclearsherthroat.“Isabella,wouldyoulikeaglassofwater?”
“No,I’mfine,”shestates,rubbingherforeheadwithherfingertips.
“Icangiveyouaminute,”Ioffer,halfstanding.
“No,wait,”Isabellasays,herheadsnappingupasshelooksatme,panicked.“Iknowthere’snotmuchpointinmeaskingthis,butiftherewasanywaythatyoucould…omitthatexchangefromyourinterview,Iwouldbesograteful.”
“Isabella,youdon’tneedtoworry,”Isay,sittingbackdown,“noneofthathappenedinfrontofme.Iwasn’there.”
Shehesitates.“I’mnotsureIunderstand.”
“YoucantrustHarper,”Rachaelsaysquietly,puttingahandonIsabella’sshoulderandgivingmeawarm,appreciativesmile.“Shewon’tprintawordaboutanyofthat.”
“It’snoneofmybusiness,andit’snoneofthepublic’s,either.I’mheretotalkaboutyouandyourmovie.NotElijah.”
Isabellalooksunconvinced.“You…youwon’tcommentonmyrelationshipinyourarticle?”
Ireachovertomydigitalvoicerecorderandstoptherecording,thendeleteit.Iputitbackdownonthetableandshrug.
“Youcanletmeknowwhenyou’rereadytobegintheinterview,”Isay.
“Thankyou,”shesays,hereyesgleamingwithtears.“It’sbeenalongday.”
“Dayslikethisalwaysare.”
“We’rebothunderalotofpressureandwiththebaby…”Isabellatrailsoff,gentlystrokingherbelly.“I’mnotsureElijahwasreallypreparedforwhathewastakingon.”Shesighs,glancingupatmeagain.“I’msorryyouwitnessedthat.I’membarrassed.”
“Ohgod,don’tbe,”Iinsistwithawaveofmyhand.“I’vehadfull-onargumentswithboyfriendsbeforeinpublicplaces.OneofthemwasinalobsterrestaurantandIdecidedtostormout,butIhadoneofthosebibstiedroundmyneckandIcouldnotgetthebloodythingoff.Iwastheretryingtoyankitfrommyneckwhileshufflingonmybottomtotheendoftheboothwewerein,andhejustsatthere,alongwithanyoneelsewho’doverheardtheargument,watchingmestrugglewiththebibinsilence.Itwasnotatalldignified.”
Shechuckles.“Didyoumanagetogetitoff?”
“No,Ididnot.Intheend,Istormedoutoftherestaurantandwalkedallthewayhomewiththebibon.”
Sheburstsoutlaughing.
“Wasthattheguyyoutoldmeaboutwhowasobsessedwithballoonanimals?”Rachaelasks,pouringIsabellaaglassofwaterfromajugontheside,despiteherobjections.
“No,thatwassomeonefromschool,”Icorrect.“TheguyIdatedinsixthformwantedtobeaclown,”IexplaintoIsabella.
“What?”Shelooksatmeindisbelief.
“Hesignedupforclowncollegeandeverything.Suchaniceguy,butanytimewehungout,hewouldmakemeaballoonanimal.Myroomwasfilledwiththem.”
“Wow.”Isabellanods.“Thatisquiteahobby.Doyouhaveaboyfriendnow?Sorry—”shefrowns“—that’snoneofmybusiness.”
“Don’tbesorry!It’sokaytoaskquestionsduringachat,”Iassureher.“Yeah,Ido.It’searlydays,buthe’sgreat.He’sactuallycookingformetonight.”
“He’sagoodchef?”
“He’sbetterthanIam.Youanygoodinthekitchen?”
“Ilikecooking,”Isabellasays.“ButIreallylovebaking.”
“Ah,soyou’reanenthusiasticbaker.Agoodone,too?”
“Excellent,”shetellsmeconfidently.“Imakethebestcookiesinthecountry.”
Inodtoherbump.“Thatisoneluckybaby—theirmummybakesthebestcookiesintheworld.”
“Country,”shecorrects,chuckling.“Worldmightbeasteptoofar.”
“Nah,”Isay.“Yourchildwillthinkthey’rethebestintheworld.That’stheonlyopinionthatmatters.”
AwarmsmilespreadsacrossIsabella’sface.Shegazesdownatherbump,rubbingitincircleswithherrighthand.Eventually,shelooksup,takingadeepbreath.
“Thanks,Harper,IthinkI’mreadyforourinterviewnow.”
“Yeah?Great.Howlonghavewegotaccordingtoyourschedule,Rachael?”
Rachaelchecksherwatch.“Yourslotfinishedeightminutesago.”
“Plentyoftime,then,”Ideclare,beforeaddressingIsabellainaseriousvoice.“Ihopeyou’rereadyforsomegroundbreakingquestions.”
Shegrinsatme.“I’montheedgeofmyseat.”
“Youshouldbe.Thefirstoneisgoingtoblowyouaway.Betnoone’saskedyouthistoday.”
Shechuckles,shiftinginherseattogetcomfortableandplacingherclaspedhandsinherlap.IreachovertothedigitalvoicerecorderandpressRecord,clearingmythroat.
“So,IsabellaBlossom,whydidyoufeeldrawntothisrole?”
“Harper,wait!”Rachaelcallsoutafterme,hervoiceechoingoffthewallsofClaridge’sreception.
Iturnroundtoseeherrushingovertome,whichisquitethefeatinheels.
“WhatdidIforget?”Iinstinctivelyask,double-checkingIhavemybagonmyshoulder.
“No,nothing,”shesays.“Ijustwantedtosaythankyouforthatinterview.Youreallyputherateaseand,regardingthatwholeElijahthing—”
“Rachael,youdonotneedtoworry.Ipromise.”
“Iknowthat,butIwantedtothankyouanyway,”sheinsists.“AndsodoesIsabella.”
“Shealreadydid.Tellhershegaveagreatinterview.Anddon’tworryabouttheshortenedtime.Iunderstandyoustillhavepeopletogetthrough.”
Rachaelholdsupherhandstostopme.
“Shewantstogiveyoutheexclusiveaboutthebaby.”
Iblinkather.“What?”
“IsabellaBlossomwantstogiveyoutheexclusivewhenherbabycomesalong,”sheemphasizes.“Youcanbethefirsttolettheworldknowthesex,thename,printthefirstphotos,everything.She’sgoingtogiveyouexclusiverights.Nothingwillgouponsocialmediaorbereleaseduntilyourpiecehasgoneout.”
“You’re…you’rejoking.”
“I’mnot.”
“But…doesn’tshewanttogivethattoamagazinethatwillpayherahugesumofmoneyforit?OroneofthemonthlyglossiesthatwilldoabigshootwithsomefamousphotographerflowninfromLA?”
Rachaelshakesherhead.“Shedoesn’twantanyofthat.Shewantsyou,HarperJenkins,tohavetheexclusive.She’sadamant.”
Istareather.“Wow.Idon’tknowwhattosay!I’msohonored.”
“Thanksagainfortoday,Harper,andletmeknowwhenthispieceaboutthefilmwillbeappearing.You’llsendmethePDF?”
“Sure.”Inod.
Shechecksherwatch.“Ihavetogetback.Wearesobehind.I’llbeintouchandseeyousoon!”
Givingmeakissonthecheekgoodbye,shehurriesbacktotheelevator.
“Rachael,”Icallout,causinghertoturnroundaftershe’shitthebutton.“Thankyou.”
“Nothingtodowithme,Harper,”shereplies,steppingintothelift.“It’salldowntoyou.”CHAPTERFOUR
Mydadcallsduringdinner.
Idon’tpickup,butLiamnoticesmyfacewhenIseethecaller’snameflashingonthephone.
“Sorry,”Isay,turningthephonefacedownonthetableandpushingitaway.“Ineededtocheck,justincaseitwasShamari.Youknow,AudreyAbbot’sagent?I’mstillwaitingtohearifI’velandedthatinterviewwithher.Fingerscrossed!”
“Noproblem.”Liamwatchesmecuriouslyashechewshismouthful.“Youdon’treallytalkaboutyourparents.”
Ishrug,pushingmyricearoundmyplate.“Notmuchtosay.”
“Youhaven’ttoldmeanythingaboutthem,oryoursister,”hecomments,swallowing.“Youknowaboutmywholefamily.”
“Youknowenough.Ihavetwoparentsandanoldersister,Juliet.Thereyougo.”
Hepicksuphisglassofwhitewine,swirlingitthoughtfully.“Yes,butwhataretheylike?AllIknowisthey’relawyersandthat’sit.AnytimeIaskyousomethingaboutthem,youchangethesubject.”
Ifeignsurprise.“DoI?”
Hetiltshishead.“Youdon’twanttotalkaboutthem.”
“It’snotthatIdon’twanttotalkaboutthem,”Isay,sighing.“It’sjust…Idon’tknow.Okay,maybeIdon’twanttotalkaboutthem.”
“Haveyoutoldthemaboutme?”heasksexpectantly.
Ihesitate,thinkingaboutlying,butdecidetobehonestsoasnottogetcaughtoutlateron.“No.Butit’snothingtodowithyou.Myfamily…Idon’treallyspeaktothemthatoften,soIhaven’thadtheopportunity.”Ipickupmyglassandtaketwolargegulpsofwine.“Let’stalkaboutsomethingelse.”
“Allright.”Hescoopssomericeontohisfork.“So,what’sIsabellaBlossomlikeinperson?Isshehappywithhercurrentrepresentation?Oh,thatremindsme,Ineedtogiveyousomeofmycards.IhadaverypromisingemailtodayfromamusicianwhoisstartingtogetsomeattentiononTikTok…”
ItrytofocusonwhatLiamissaying,noddinginalltherightplacesanddoingmybesttolookinterested,butmydad’scallhangsoverme.I’llhavetocallhimbackatsomepoint,andtheideaofhowawkwardandstiltedourconversationwillbefillsmewithdread.Iwishhe’dsendaWhatsApportextlikeanormalperson,buthe’soldfashionedwhenitcomestocommunication,andontherareoccasionthathemakescontact,it’susuallyaphonecallaboutmeetingfordinner,whichisthenfollowedbyaformalemailinwhichheconfirmsthedatewe’vejustdiscussedtomeet.
WhenIthinkaboutit,mydadandIhavearelationshipsimilartothatofmutuallydisapprovingcolleaguesforcedtokeepeachotherintheloop.
“So,whatdoyouthink?”
Liam’squestiontakesmebysurprise.Ihaven’tbeenlisteningtoathinghe’sbeensaying.
“About…?”
“Writingafeatureonmycompany,”hepromptseagerly.“Thatkindofpublicitywouldbeinvaluable;IthinkI’dgetalotofclientswithapluglikethat.”
“Idon’tfeaturetalentagencies.Ifeature…talent.”
“Yeah,butweren’tyoulistening?Itwouldbea‘behindthescenes’piece!”heexplains,hiseyeswidewithenthusiasmasheenvisionsit.“Youcoulddo,like,awholethingonthehotnewagenciesproppinguptheseartists,thelegsbeneaththewater,paddlingmadly.”
Istareathim.“What?”
“Youknow!Onthesurfaceofthewater,duckslookallcalmandchilled,butunderneaththewater,thosewebbedfeetareworkinglikecrazy.Talentagenciesarejustlikethat.We’rethewebbedfeet.Theartistsaretheducks.”Helooksthoughtfulforamoment.“Ilikethatanalogy.Imightputthatonmywebsite.”
I’mtoobewilderedtospeak.
“So,willyouatleastthinkaboutthefeature?”
“Uh.Yes.Okay,”Ilie,tootiredtoexplainthatitwillneverhappen.
“Great,”hesays,finishinghiswineandgesturingtomyglass.“Wantatop-up?”
“No,thanks.Ihaveabusydaytomorrow.”
“That’swhyyouwanttobeworkingforyourself,babe.Igettopickmyownhours,”hesays,winkingatme.
Heopensthefridgetoretrievethewinebottle.IquicklycheckmyphoneontheoffchancethatDadhassentatexttoexplainwhyhecalled,buttherearenonewmessages.
Whilethephoneisinmyhand,itvibrates.IpickupassoonasIseethename,myheartleapingintomythroat.
“Shamari,hi,”IsayasbreezilyasIcanmuster.“How’syourevening?”
“AudreyAbbotwilldotheinterview.”
Iinhalesharply.
“Itwillhavetobebeforeherrehearsaltomorrowmorning.I’llsendyoutheaddressofthetheater,”Shamaricontinues.“I’mjustfinalizingatimewithher,soI’llconfirmwhenIcan.Itoldherthefocuswouldbeonhercareer,noton…whathappened.Anditwillbeacelebrationofherwork.Imentionedthatthejournalistinquestioncouldbetrusted.Youshouldhaveheardwhatsherepliedtothat.”
Ismiletomyself.“Wasitsomethingalongthelinesofhownojournalistscouldbetrusted?”
“Plusafewchoicewords,yes,”shesaysbriskly.
“Shamari,thisis…thisisbrilliantnews,”Igush,hardlydaringtobelievethatthisishappening.“Herfirstinterviewinsixteenyears!Iknewyoucouldpersuadeher.Youareawonder.”
“Frontpageofthemagazine,yes?”
“Youhavemyword,”Ipromise.
“I’llseeyoutomorrowmorning,then.”
“Seeyoutomorrow.”
“Oh,andHarper?”
“Yes?”
“Don’tfuckthisup.”
IwouldnotliketoplayAudreyAbbotatpoker.
FromthemomentIwalkintheroom,Iknowshe’sgoingtobeatoughnuttocrack.I’dexpectedtobegreetedwithascowlor,attheveryleast,alookofmistrust,butshe’simpossibletoread,givingnothingaway,herexpressionblank.
TheinterviewisbeingheldinastudioincentralLondonwherethey’reconductingrehearsalsfortheupcomingplay.I’vearrangedtomeetherforty-fiveminutesbeforeshe’sneededforherscenes,whichsoundslikeforever,butwhenyoufactorinthegreetingsandhowlongittakestodrawanactoroutofthemselves,itisn’tmuchtimeatall.
ShamarimetmeoutsidethedoortothestudiobeforeguidingmethroughtotheroominwhichAudreywaswaiting,sittingatadeskreadingthroughascript.Poised,elegant,immaculate,AudreyAbbotisasmesmerizingandcommandinginpersonasI’dimagined.Shehasashort,stylishpixiehaircut,hazel-greeneyes,delicatefeatures,andthinlips—shewasalwaysbestatplayingmisunderstood,pricklycharactersthattheaudiencewouldslowlywarmtoasshecarefullyexposedtheirvulnerabilitiesandhumanity.
“Audrey,thisisHarperJenkins,”Shamariintroduces.“Harper,thisisAudreyAbbot.”
“It’sapleasuretomeetyou,MissAbbot,”Isay,holdingoutmyhand.
Closingherscript,shetakesmyhandinhersandshakesitfirmly,butremainssilent,studyingmeasIpullupachairoppositeherandbeginpullingmythingsfrommybag.
IacceptShamari’sofferofacoffeeandAudreyrequestsagreentea.InoticeShamarihesitatebeforesheleavestheroom,asthoughshe’ssuddenlyunsurewhethersheshouldbeleavingusaloneforanyamountoftime.
“Wewon’tstartuntilyougetback,”Iassureher.
Shegivesmeagratefulsmilebeforehurryingout,thedoorswingingshutbehindher.
“Areyouhappyformetousethis?”Iask,showingmydigitalvoicerecorder
“Yes,that’sfine,”shereplies,hervoiceclearandcontrolled.
“Great,thankyou.Iwon’tpressRecorduntilShamariisbackandyoufeelabsolutelyreadyandcomfortable,”Iinformher.
“Allright,”shesays.
Wefallintosilenceand,underherscrutinizinggaze,Icrossmylegs,thenuncrossthem,thencrossthemagain.
“Ihavetothankyouforagreeingtospeaktometoday,”Isayeventually.“I’mhonoredthatIgettobethepersontocelebrateyourreturntothestage.”
Shearchesaneyebrow.“Youthinkthatshouldbecelebrated?”
“Areyoukidding?Peoplearegoingtolosetheirheadswithexcitement!”
It’sperhapsalittletoocasualanexpressiontouseinaprofessionalsetting,butsheseemstofinditmildlyamusing,soperhapscasualisthewaytogohere.
“Shamaritellsmeyou’rea‘kindhearted’journalist.”Sheleansbackandfoldsherarms.“Seemslikeaparadoxtome.”
Ismile.Iwasreadyforthis.
“Youthinkjournalistswhowriteaboutpublicfiguresareevil?”Iask.
“Ithinkjournalistswhowriteaboutpublicfigureshaveaflairforsadism,”sheexplains.“That’swhatsells.”
“Somethingthemovieindustryknowsallabout,”Ireason.
Thecornersofherlipstwitch,butshesuppressesthesmile.Sheinhalesdeeply,jutsoutherchin,andthenspeaks.
“Areyougoingtoaskmeaboutwhathappened?”shesayscoldly,asthoughdaringmetodoit.“Whereitallwentwrong?That’swhatyourreaderswanttoknow,don’tthey?Mydownfallmakesthemfeelbetteraboutthemselves.”
“Soundslikeyourproblemlieswithreadersratherthanjournalists?”
Shepursesherlipsatmyquickreply.Ishrugandcontinue.
“It’suptoyou.Weallknowwhathappenedsixteenyearsago—ifyouwanttotalkaboutwhyithappened,whatledyouthere,howyoufelt,thenyou’rewelcometo.Shamaritoldmethatyouwantedtofocusonyouractingcareer,sothat’swhatI’mherefor.”
“Youwon’tbedisappointedifyouleaveheretodaywithouttheinsidescoop?”shespitsoutthewords.“You’llbeperfectlyhappytowritethearticlewithoutamentionofit?”
“Yes.”
“Idon’tbelieveyou.”
Iknowshe’stryingtogetariseoutofme,butIrefusetocrack.“Youcanbelievewhatyouwant.”
“You’rereallysayingyou’dwriteanarticleaboutmewithnomentionofsuchaninfamousanddefiningincident?”
“Isthatincidenttheonlythingthatdefinesyou?”Iretort.“Istronglysuspectitisn’t,soI’msureI’llhavealotofothermaterialtofocuson.”
“It’sascandal.Andjournalistsliketotellagoodstory.”
“Onlyifit’satruthfulone,otherwisewe’dwritefiction.Ormaybegointofilm.”
Shepauses.“Nothingmuchfazesyou,doesit,Harper?”
“You’rewrongthere.Awhileago,IhadtodoafeatureonMadameTussauds.Haveyoubeenthere?Terrifiedthecrapoutofme.Idon’tknowwhyanyoneintheirrightmindwouldagreetohaveawaxreplicamadeofthemselves.”
“I’minMadameTussauds.”
“Iknow.”
Shelaughsdespiteherself,linesformingsatisfactorilyaroundthecornersofhermouth,hereyesbrightening.Herwholefacechanges.Istartlaughingalongwithher.
Shamaricomesbustlingintotheroom,carryingatrayofhotdrinks.“I’msorryIwassolong!Thekettlewasn’tworkinginthekitchenhere,soIhadtopopacrosstheroadtogetthese.Hereyouare.”ShehandsmeacoffeeandpassesAudreyatea,beforeperchingonachairtothesideoftheroomwithherowncoffee.“Allright,wecangetstartednow,ifyou’rebothready?”
“Iam,ifyouare?”IaskAudrey.
“Yes,”shesayswarmly,givingmeaneasy,relaxedsmilethatIcantelltakesShamaribysurprise.“Afterallthistime,I’mfinallyready.”
TheIncidentinvolvingAudreyAbbothappenedatarestaurantinMayfair.
ShewasafamousHollywoodstar,anestablished,dignified,andhighlyregardedactor,whomnobodyexpectedtoputafootwrong,sowhenshedid,itwasdocumentedandanalyzedinanunsympathetic,almostoffendedway.Asthoughshe’dletdownallofus,notjustherself.
Andaswithanywomaninherposition,thetabloidsrelishedherfallfromgrace.
ItallstartedwhenshefellinlovewithHankLane,famouspunkrockerandsonofanLArealestatebillionaire.Shemarriedhimafterfourmonthsofdating.Itwasherthirdmarriage—first,therewasherchildhoodsweetheart,followedbyafilmdirector,wholeftherfortheleadinhisnewestfilm—andwhileshewasquitealotolderthanHank,shewasheadoverheels.Hewasadventurous,spontaneous,outrageous,theoppositeofanyoneelseshe’dpubliclydated.
Audreybeganmakingheadlineswhenshewascaughtdrunkenlyemergingfromaclub;rumorsstartedcirculatingthat“asourceclosetothestar”hadseenher“sniffingasuspicioussubstanceataparty”(ofcourse,therewasn’tanyevidence).Shestartedwearinglouderandbrasherclothes,andexperimentingmorewithhermakeup;soon,reporterswrotethat“herfriendssaid”shemarriedHanktoofast;theirpublicargumentswere“embarrassinglyloud,accordingtoonlookers”;shewas“spiralingoutofcontrol.”
Increasinglyhuntedbythepaparazzi,shewasreportedly“paranoidandanxious,”andHankbegantoloseinterest.Whensheaccusedhimofcheating,hetoldhershewasdeludedandcontrolling.AphotoemergedofhimkissinganotherwomaninaBatterseanightclub,anactorwhohadplayedAudrey’sdaughterinherlatestfilm.ThenanotherrumorbegancirculatingthathewasdatingthemodelwhohadopenedtheVersaceshowatthatyear’sLondonFashionWeek.
Oneday,afterdrinkingtoomuchwhileonsomeprescriptionmedication,AudreyAbbotshowedupatafancyMayfairrestaurant,havinglearnedthatHankwasinsideenjoyingsconesandhavingthecreamlickedoffhisfingersbythedancerwho’dstarredinhislatestmusicvideo.
Thepaparazziwerealreadywaitingoutside.
First,therewasahugescreamingmatchbetweenAudreyandHank.Then,accordingtowitnesses,shepickedupachampagnebottleandbrandisheditatHank,promptingthewaitingstafftoyelloutforeveryonetogetdownjustincase.Sheburstintotearsanddroppedit,smashingitacrossthefloorandcausingallthegueststogaspinhorrorandexcitement.
WhenHankyelledoutthathewasgoingto“divorcethecrazybitch,”shetriedtoslaphim,buthedodged,grabbingherarm.Shegrabbedafistfulofthetableclothandpulledit.Thecontentswentflying:thecakestand,thescones,themacaroons,thefingersandwiches,theteapot,thecupsandsaucers,thecrockeryandcutlery.
Thenoise,accordingtoonlookers,“wasdeafening.”
Audreythenwentmarchingoutoftherestaurant,flippedoffthepaparazzi,andwhenonephotographerputhiscamerasoclosetoherfacethatitnudgedhersunglassesfartheruphernose,shepushedhimasideandhiscamerawasknockedoutofhishands,thelenscrackingasithittheground.(Thephotographeraccusedherof“viciouslyattacking”
Thepaparazzifollowedherhomethatday,wheresheproceededtograbagolfclubandsmashupHank’sFerrari.Thosepictureshavegainedasortoflegendarystatusinpopculture:thescorned,blurry-eyedolderwomansmashinguptheyoung,philanderingheartthrob’scar.
HankwroteasongaboutTheIncidentanditwentstraighttonumberone.TheCorrespondencecalledhima“lyrical,musicalgenius.”JonathanCliffatExpressionsaidthesongwas“inspired.”Hankreleasedseveralmoresuccessfulalbumsoverthefollowingyears,cleaneduphisact,andappearedonaBachelor-typeTVshowintheUSA,datingthewinnerbrieflybutmarryingtherunner-upinsteadandhavingtwochildrenwithher.Helaunchedanalcohol-freeginalternativeandreleasedachildren’sbookaboutayoungboywhodreamsofbeingarockstar.Itwasabestseller.
Meanwhile,AudreyAbbotdisappearedfromthepubliceye.
Associalmediabecameathing,thephotoofhersmashingthecarwithhermascararunningdownhercheekstransformedfromaniconicimagetoareadilyadaptablememe.Butinrecentyears,she’sbeenreconsideredasoneofthevictimsofanerathatdidn’tforgivewomenwhentheyactedout.
Offtherecord,Audreytellsmethatintheimmediateaftermath,shewasinsomuchpain,sohumiliated,solost,andsosmall,thatshewantedtodisappear.Thereisnothinglikethatfeeling,shesays,whenyou’remadetothinkeveryoneintheworlddespisesyou.Itmakesyouafraidtoleavethehouse,togointoashop,tospeaktoanyonewithouthidingyourface.
Sheeventuallygothelpandbegantofeelwholeagain.Thefriendshipsthatlastedthroughthatperiodofherlifebecamestronger.Thatoverpoweringfeelingofshamebegantofade.Sheinvestedinbusinesses,becomingasilentpartnerinabestsellinghealth,wellness,andbeautybrand.Shestartedwritinghermemoir.Dependingonhowthisforaybackintotheworldoftheatergoes,she’sconsideringtakingastabatdirectingaplay,whichshe’salwayswantedtotry.Sheishappiernow,moreaccepting,moreloving—sheforgivesHank.Sheforgivesherself.
“IwishIcouldgoback,wrapmyarmsaroundthatwomanIwasthen,andprotecther,”shesays,beforeaddingthoughtfully,“I’mnotafraidofwhathappenedanymore.LookingbackremindsmehowfarI’vecome.”
Ontherecord,Audreytellsmethatshedecidedtotaketheroleinthisplaybecauseitisaboutapassionate,reckless,hauntedwomanwithsinfulsecrets,acharactershecanunderstandandhopestodojustice.Determinedtoliveinthehereandnow,AudreyAbbotwon’tdwellonregrets.
“Everyonehasbaddays,”shesayswithanimpishsmile.“LikeeverythingelseIdo,minewasparticularlyspectacular.”
“Cosmo,youhavegottolistentome,”Iplead,exasperated.“It’sAudreyAbbot.TheAudreyAbbot.Shehastobefrontpage.”
Cosmoputshishandsbehindhisheadandleansbackinhisofficechair.“I’vealreadydecidedthatDonBrightisourcoverstory,Harper.”
“IfyoudecidetoburythecomebackstoryofAudreyAbbotbehindacoverstoryonaboringbusinessman,thewholeindustrywillthinkyouhavelostyourmind.”Irubmytemples,takingadeepbreath.“Cosmo,thisisaveryimportantstoryandsixty-onepercentofouraudienceismadeupofwomen.”
“Exactly.”Heshrugs.“They’llwantabitofeyecandyonthefront.DonBrightisagood-lookingchap.”
“Eyecandyisgreat,butthey’dratherreadaboutawomanwhotheylookeduptoandwho,afterbeingtorndownbythepress,hascomebacktothestagestrongerthanever!Youhavetotrustmeonthis,Cosmo,thisisthestory.”
Hisbrowfurrows,asthoughhemightbeconsideringit,andIpressonwithaglimmerofhope.
“Thisisthefirsttimeshe’sspokentoajournalistsince2007.Peoplewilltalkaboutthis;itwilltrendonsocialmedia.AudreyAbbotisback.”
Cosmorubshischinandthenletsoutalongsigh.
“Sorry,Harper,theanswerisno.I’vegottheclever‘FutureIsBright’coverline.Thatpieceisasurefirehit,readytogotopress,andI’mnotwillingtobrush—”
“Cosmo,wehaveaproblem!”
RakheecomesrushingintoCosmo’soffice,hereyebrowsknittedtogetherinconcern.
“I’msosorrytodisturbyourmeeting,Harper,butthiscouldn’twait,”shesaysbreathlessly,beforeturningtoCosmo.“Wecan’truntheDonBrightpiecethisweek.”
“What?”hesplutters.
“Itlookslikehemayhaveliedtous.”
“Who?”Cosmodemandstoknow.“Wholiedtous?”
“DonBright!Hisquotesandstatisticsaboutsomeofhisbusinessventuresdon’tquitematchup,”Rakheeexplains.“We’regoingtoneedmoretimeforourfactcheckerstorunitpasthislawyers.They’vesaidthey’reflatoutwithacaseatthemoment—Ithinkhe’sbeingsuedbyadisgruntledemployee?—buttheycanhavealookoveritthisweekend.”
Cosmobangshisfistonthetable.“Thisweekend!Wegotopresstomorrow!”
“I’vetoldthemthat.”
“Well,we’lljusthavetopublishithowitis,”hesays,hisexpressionthunderous.
“Wecan’triskit,”Rakheesayssimply.“Ifwepublishincorrectdetails,itwillcauseembarrassmentforusandDonBright.Anditwillopenusupforlegalrepercussions.”
“Letmespeaktotheselawyers,”Cosmohuffs.“Iftheyhearfromtheeditorhimself,theymightmakesometimeintheirhecticschedulestorunsomebloodynumbers.”
Rakheegrimaces.“Ialreadysaidthatyou’dbecallingthem,andtheysaiditdidn’tmatter—they’reuptotheirneckinthisotherlawsuitandthisarticleisnotapriorityincomparison.Itcanwaituntilnextweekorwecanpullitaltogether,theysaid.Isaidwe’dwaituntilnextweek.Wedon’twanttoloseDonBrightaltogether,dowe?”
Cosmo’sjawclenches.
“No,”heseethes.“Isupposenot.”
“Theonlythingis,weneedtofindagoodcoverstorytogotopresstomorrow,”Rakheesays,bitingherlip.
IturntoCosmotriumphantly.
Rubbinghisforeheadwithhisrighthand,heglancesupatmethroughthecracksinhisfingers.
“Allright,Harper,”hemutters.“AudreyAbbotisourcoverstory.Makeithappen.”
“Yes!Thankyou!”Icryecstatically,skippingoutofhisofficefeelinglikeIcouldburstwithhappiness,followedbyRakhee.
Whenwegetbacktoourseats,IletoutasquealofexcitementandthenleanovertoRakheetosay,“Iknowit’sprobablycausedyoualotofstress,butIamsopleasedthatDonBrightmuckeduphisinterview.”
“Hedidn’t,”shewhispersbackcalmly,openinganemailonherscreen.
Istareather.“What?”
“DoyouthinkIwasgoingtoletanyonebutAudreyAbbotgraceourfrontcover?”Sheturnstolookatmewithaslysmile.“Notonmywatch.”CHAPTERFIVE
“Iwouldliketoproposeatoast,”Mimideclares,holdingherglassofProseccoaloft.“Tomytwoastoundingcolleagues:Harper,forlandingafabulousscoop,andRakhee,forfoolingouridiotofaneditorandmakingsuretherightpersonisgracingourcoverthisweekend.Toteamwork!”
RakheeandIlaugh,leaningovertoclinkourglasses.TheOldOakisjustdowntheroadfromtheofficeandistheunofficialCorrespondencenewspaperhangout.Nomatterhowgoodourintentionsaretotrysomewhereelse,wealwaysenduphere.Thepubisfamiliarandcozyandhashostedmanyamemorablenightforus,fromtheeveningswhenwe’veneededtodrownoursorrowstothosewhenwe’verequiredacelebration.Happily,tonightisthelatter.
“Istillcan’tbelieveyoumadeupthatstoryaboutDonBright,”IsaytoRakhee,shakingmyhead.“Ididn’tdoubtyouforamoment!”
“Ihadtobeconvincing,”shesays.
“Whatifhephonesthelawyers?Idon’twantyougettingintrouble.”
“Firstly,hewon’t,becauseheknowsdeepdownthathewouldn’tbeabletochangetheirminds.Heknowsifanyonecould,it’sme,”Rakheesaysconfidently.
Miminods.“Shemakesagoodpoint.”
“Secondly,Idon’tcareaboutgettingintrouble.AudreyAbbothadtobethecoverstory,therewasnoquestionaboutit.I’dhavebroughtthemattertoourpublishersifIhadto—they’dagree,Iknowit.”
“Youaresobadass,”Isay,impressed
“SaysthewomanwholandedAudreyAbbot’sfirstinterviewinsixteenyears.Itakeityou’vefinishedwritingthepiece,otherwiseyouwouldn’tbehere?”Mimiadds.
Igrimace.“Uh.Sortof.”
Sherollshereyes.“Thesubsaregoingtokillyou.Youneedtogivethemtimetofactcheckanddothelayout!”
“I’mgoingtofinishitonmylaptopwhenIgethome,”Iinsist.“It’salmostthere.Itjustneedspolishing.AndIhavetogoouttonightanyway,soImightaswellsqueezeinadrinkwithyoutwo.”
“Whereareyougoingtonight?”Rakheeasks.
“Abooklaunch.AmemberofParliamenthaswrittenhisautobiography.”
“Juicy,”Mimicommentssarcastically.
“Hecamerunner-upinarealityTVshowlastyear,soI’msurethebookisnotwithoutitsglitzandglamour,”Iinformher.“Hecouldbeagoodsubjectforafeature.”
Mimishootsmeaconcernedlook.“Shouldn’tyoubegivingyourselfanightoffsometimesoon?Youhaven’tstoppedinawhile.”
“Ihavenightsoff,”Iargue.“Yesterday,IwasathomeandLiamcookedforme.Itwasverypleasant.”
“Pleasant,”shesays,unconvinced.“Imeantmorelikeanightforyourself,whereyoujust…stop.There’sagreatpresstripcomingupthatyoushouldtake—abeautifulboutiquehotelintheKentcountrysidethatyoucouldreview.Youcangetawayfromeverythingandrelax.”
“Idon’tneedtorelax,”Iinsist.“Ilikebeingbusy.Youknowthat.”
Rakheelaughs.“Youmustbeanightmareonholiday.Oneofthosepeoplewhoalwayswantstobedoingactivitiesratherthanlazingaboutonthebeach.”
“You’rewrong,”Itellherproudly.“I’mveryrelaxedonholiday.IreadallthebooksI’vebeensenttoreview.”
“Holidaysaren’tforcatchinguponwork,Harper!”Rakheepointsout.“Honestly,IhopeLiamisthekindofpersonwholikestobebusy;otherwisehe’sinforarudeawakeningonyourfirstcouplestrip.”
“Ooh,speakingofLiam,”Mimisays.“Willyoubringhimtomybirthdayparty?Itwouldbenicetospendmoretimewithhim,sinceI’veonlymethimonce.Rakhee,you’recomingtoo,right?”
“Yes,thankyouforinvitingme.”
“QuitealotoftheNarrativeteamarecoming,”Mimitellsme.
“Tellmeyoudidn’tinviteCosmo,”Icheck.
Shebalksatthesuggestion.“Don’tbestupid.”
“Okay,I’llaskifLiam’sfree.Although,I’mnotsureyourbirthdaypartyisthebestoccasiontointroducesomeonenew.”
Mimigrins.“Ifhecan’thandleaspotofroundersandsomesillygames,he’snotTheOne.It’stheultimatetest.”
Everyyear,MimispendsherbirthdayinBrockwellPark,inSouthLondon,whereshesplitsthegroupintotwoteamsandweplayrounders,beforetakingpartinridiculousdrinkinggames.It’salwaysalotoffunandgetsquiterowdyandcompetitive.
“Let’shopewe’restilltogetherbytheendoftheday,”Ilaugh,beforecheckingthetime.“Right,Ibettergo,orI’llmissthestartofthereading.”
Rakheelooksdisappointed.“You’releavingalready?”
“ImightactuallybeontimeifIgonow,”Isayproudly.
“Beforeyougo,Iactually…Ineedtotellyoubothsomething,”Rakheeannounces,settingdownherglass,hertoneseriousandurgent.
IshareaconcernedlookwithMimi.“Iseverythingokay?”
Shenods.“Yes,yes.Well.Insomeways,it’sgreat.Inotherways…”Shetrailsoffandthentakesadeepbreath.“I’vegotanewjob.”
Mimigasps.“What?”
“ThosedoctoranddentistappointmentsI’vebeengoingto?They’vebeeninterviews,”Rakheeadmitswithanervoussmile.“I’vebeenofferedthejobofdeputyeditoratSleekmagazine.”
“Rakhee!”Igasp.“That’samazing!Congratulations!”
“Wow,IloveSleek!”Mimienthuses.“Welldone,you!”
“Thankyou,”shesays,smilingmodestly.“I’mreallyexcited,althoughI’llbesadtoleavetheNarrativeteam.”
Inmyfirstflushofhappinessforherlandingsuchabrilliantnewjob,Ihadn’tactuallyconsideredthatRakheewon’tbesittingnexttomeeveryday.Ican’tbelieveI’lllosemypartner-in-crimewhenitcomestostandinguptoCosmo.
“We’llmissyou,buthugecongratulations!”Mimisaysquickly,readingmymind.ShestandstogiveRakheeahug.“Youdeservethis.Sleekisoneofthebest.Theycouldn’thavehiredabetterpersonforthejob.”
“Isecondthat,”Isay,gettinguptothrowmyarmsroundher,too.
Rakheeisnotanaturalhugger,allanglesandawkwardness,butIholdhercloseanyway.Ireallywillmissher.
“Whendoyoustart?”Mimiasks,sittingbackdown.
“Inamonth.IhandedinmynoticetoCosmoyesterday,”shetellsus.“Youshouldhaveseenhisface.Hehadtoacthappyforme,buthelookedfurious.”
“Whatdidhesay?”Ilaugh,curious.
“Somethingalongthelinesof,‘IguessthismeansI’llhaveextraworkonmyplateasI’llhavetostartinterviewingforyourreplacement.’”
“Ohgod,pleasetellmeyou’llbehelpingoutwiththeinterviewprocess,”Iplead.“YouhavetomakesureIendupsittingnexttosomeonegood!NotoneofCosmo’sgolfingbuddies.”
HavingagoodrelationshipwiththefeatureseditoratNarrativeisveryimportanttomyjobascelebrityeditor—althoughthetworolesaredistinctandbothreporttotheeditor-in-chief,they’refairlyintertwinedandcanevenoverlap,dependingonwhomysubjectis.
Rakheehasnevermademefeellikesheissuperiortome(despiteCosmo’sclearpersonalfeelingsonthehierarchyofourjobs),andit’sextremelyhelpfultohaveafeatureseditorwhorespectsmyposition.Alotofmagazineshavescrappedcelebrityeditors,whereasthefeatureseditorislongestablishedatallpublicationsandundoubtedlyasafetitletohold.IjusthopeI’llbeabletoworkintandemratherthanincompetitionwithwhoeverreplacesRakhee.
“IwillbeconductingtheinterviewsalongwithCosmo,”sheassuresme.“Ipromisetohiretheperfectpersonforthejob.”
“Theofficewon’tbethesamewithoutyou,”Mimisighs,andInodinforlornagreement.
“I’llmissworkingwithyou.IhopeI’llgetonwellwiththeSleekteam.I’mprettynervousaboutthemove,tobehonest.”
“It’sanexcitingnewadventure,”Iemphasize.“Andoneweshouldcelebratewitharoundofdrinks!I’llgetanotherbottleofProsecco.No!Strikethat.Champagne.”
Mimiclapsherhandsexcitedly.
“Butwon’tyoubelateforthebooklaunch?”Rakheeasks,checkingherwatch.
“That’sokay,”Itellherwithasmile,slippingawayinthedirectionofthebar.“Idohaveareputationtouphold.”
OnmywayfromthetubetoWaterstones,Igetaphonecall.It’smydadagain.Ididn’tmessagehimafterthemissedcallyesterday,soIdecidetoanswer,gratefulthatIhaveanexcusetorushoff.I’malsotipsyfromRakhee’scelebratorychampagneandI’drathernothandleaphonecallwithmydadsober.
“Hi,Dad.”
“Harper,finally,”hesays,alreadysoundingannoyed,eventhoughImissedonecallfromhim.“I’vebeentryingtogetthroughtoyou.”
“Sorry,”Isay,doingmybestnottobeirkedbyhistonebeforeourconversationhasevenreallystarted.“HowareyouandMum?”
“Well,thankyou,”hesayssnippily.
“Good.Look,Ican’tbelong,Dad,I’mabouttoheadintoanevent.”
“Idon’tintendtokeepyoulong,Harper,”hegrumbles.“Sincewehaven’tseenyousinceEaster,wethoughtweshouldgetadinnerinthediary.Yoursister’sidea.”
“Okay,”Isay,dreadingitalready.“Whenwereyouthinking?”
“I’llsendacrosssomesuitabledates,”hestates,inthesamewaythathe’dbookameetingwithoneofhisclients.Iamfullyusedtothisformalmanner.He’salwayslikethiswithme,asthoughI’messentiallyaburdentohim,someonehehasadutytoward,ratherthansomeonehe’dliketospendtimewith.
“Great.Anyway,IhavethiseventsoI’dbetter—”
“Somecelebritybash,isit?”
Thedisdainoozesfromeveryword.
“It’sabooklaunch,actually,”Ireply,annoyedatmyselfforfeelinglikeIhavetojustifyanything.
Hesighs.“Isupposethatisalittlebetterthanyourusualoccupations.”
“Youknowwhat,Dad,Idon’thavetimeforyoutotalkshitaboutmycareertonight,okay?Youcansavethatforourdinner.”
“Don’tswear,Harper,”hescolds.
“Ihavetogo.”
“Allright,we’reperfectlyusedtoyourunningoff,”hesnaps.“I’llsendyouthosedates.”
“Great.Bye,then.”
“Goodbye.”
Ihangup,throwmyphoneinmybag,andtrytoshaketheconversationoffasIwalkintothewarm,welcomingbookshop.
Clearly,myrelationshipwithmyparentsis…strained.
We’venevergoton.Actually,that’salie.Ihavenicememoriesofmychildhood,buttheyfadedatsomepointinmyteenswhenIslowlybecamearepeatdisappointmenttothemwhilemyoldersister,Juliet,becamethegoldenchildwhocoulddonowrong.
Mymumanddadarepartnersindifferentlawfirms—bothbrilliantlysuccessful,highlydriven,tough-as-nailsworkaholics.OneoftheworstthingsaboutusnotseeingeyetoeyeisthatIstillremainweirdlyproudoftheirsuccess,evenwiththeknowledgethattheyseemeasatotalletdown.
IthinktheythoughtIwasjokingwhenIfirsttoldthemIwantedtoapplyforjournalismcoursesafterschool.TheyhadalwaysassumedI’dcompletealawdegree,likeJuliet.Theymadenoattempttohidetheirdisapprovalanddisappointment.
Withherperfectgrades,Cambridgedegree,andajobatatopLondonlawfirmstraightoutofuniversity,Julietwas,andstillis,ourparents’prideandjoy.SheandIareverydifferentpeopleandhaveneverbeenclose,despiteonlybeingtwoyearsapartinage.She’squiet,straightlaced,andstandoffish,lookingdownonmeasmuchasourparentsdo.Sheneverpaidmuchattentiontomewhenweweregrowingup,andshehadabsolutelynotimeformeonceshewasahotshotlawyerinLondon.Ineverhearfromherandweonlyspeakatfamilygatherings,andthoseconversationsarepainfulanddry,sharingnopersonalinformationwhatsoever.Sheiscompletelyuninterestedinanythinggoingoninmylife,soI’velearnedtofeelthesamewayabouther.
WhenIstartedinterningasajournalist,mymumsaidIwasbeingirresponsiblebecausetheentry-leveljobspaidsolittle.WhenIgotmyfirstjournalismjob,asjuniorcelebritywriteratFlairmagazine,mydadsaidhehadn’timaginedmyeducationwouldsurmounttowritingsleazystoriesaboutcocaine-fueledwannabes.AndwhenIlandedmycurrentcelebrityeditorjobatNarrative,IsentthemamessagesayingIwouldnowbewritingsleazystoriesaboutcocaine-fueledwannabesformoremoney.
Theydidn’treply.
EverynowandthenwehavethesedinnerswhereJulietsitsinsilenceandmyparentsaskmewhereIthinkmylifeisgoingandwhetherI’verealizedyetthatImadeahugemistake.
ButIlovemyjob.I’mhappy.
Ijustwishthatwasenoughformyparents.
BythetimeI’vemadeitupthestairsofWaterstonestothefirstfloor,there’saroundofapplausefortheendofthereading,soIloiteratthebackandjoinintheclapping.ThepublicistspotsmeandgivesmeawarmsmilewhenIintroducemyself,beforeencouragingmetohelpmyselftoadrinkifI’dlikeandtobesuretospeaktoherortheMPifIhaveanyquestions,asthey’llbothbedoingtherounds.
Makingmywaythroughtheminglingcrowdstothedrinkstable,Ireachoutforthelastpapercupofwarmwhitewineatthesametimeassomeoneelsedoes.Webothretractourhandsquicklyandglanceateachothertoapologize.
IlookupintotheblueeyesofRyanJansson.
AtleasthelooksasshockedtoseemeasIamtoseehim.I’mnottheonlyonecaughtoffguardhere.
“Sorry,”hemutters.
“Youhaveit,”Itellhimbrusquely,gesturingtothecup.
“Youcanhaveit,”hereplies.
“Iinsist.”
“Iinsist.”
Iglareathim,inhalingdeeply.God,he’sannoying.
“Fine.I’llhaveit,then.”Takingthecupwhilehereachesforaredwine,I’mreadytoleavehisvicinityassoonasishumanlypossiblewhenhedecidestomakeconversation.
“Ididn’tthinkyou’dbehere,”hesays,puttinghissparehandinhispocketandturningtoscantheroomofjournalists.
“Why?”Ireplydefensively.“Becauseit’stoohigh-browforthemagazine?”
Hefrowns.“No.BecauseIthoughtitwouldbecoveredbythebookseditor.”
RyanJanssonisverygoodatbeingcondescendingandtryingtoconcealitwithhischarmandsexappeal,butIknowbetter.
“Wedon’thaveabookseditor,asyouknow,”Isaypointedly.
“Ididn’tknowthat,actually.”
“Whyisn’tthenewspaper’sbookseditorhere?”Iretort.
“Sheishere.”Hepointsatawomanacrosstheroom.
“Oh.Well,whyareyouhere,too?”
“Becausehe’shadsomecolorfulexperiences,”heclaims,noddingtotheMP,whoischattingawaycheerilytoacircleofpeople.“Ithinkitwillmakeanicefeature—thebookreleaseandaninterviewwithhim.”
“Yes,well,it’sthetypeoffeaturethatsuitsthemagazineratherthanthenewspaper,inmyopinion,”Ipointout.
“Iheardthere’sachangecominguponyoureditorialteam,”hesaysbreezily.
Inarrowmyeyesathim.“Excuseme?”
“Rakhee,yourfeatureseditor.She’sleaving,right?”
“Howdoyouknowaboutthat?”
Heshrugs.“Wordspreads.Didyouknowaboutit?”
“Ofcourse!I’veknownforages.”
Ican’thelpit.HowdoesheknowaboutRakhee?I’veonlyjustfoundout!
“She’sgoingtoSleekmagazine.She’sgoingtobedeputyeditorthere,”Icontinue.“They’reluckytohaveher.”
Henods.“So,whatdidyouthinkofthereading?”
“Sorry?”
“Thechapterwejustheard,”Ryanexplains.“Whatdidyouthink?”
“Oh…Ithought…Ithoughtitwasinteresting.”
“Really.”
“Yes,”Isayfirmly.“Veryinteresting.”
Thecornersofhismouthtwitchupintoaknowingsmile.“Youwerelate,weren’tyou?”
“No!”
“Whatwasthechapterabout,then?”hechallenges.
“I’msorry,Ididn’trealizethatattendingabooklaunchinvolvesaspontaneousquiztoseeifyouwerepayingattention,”Isnarl.
“Youwerelate,”heconfirms,smilingintohiscup,hiseyestwinklingwithtriumph.
“Iwasatinybitlate,notthatit’sanyofyourbusiness.”Iscowlathissmugexpression.“Anyway,asmuchasI’dlovetohangaround,I’vealreadyreachedmyquotaoftalkingtopompousassholestoday,soI’mgoingnow.”
Helooksamusedatthis,whichonlyservestomakemeevenmoreinfuriated.
Hehasnorighttobeamused.He’ssupposedtobeinsulted.
Heopenshismouthtoreply,butIstalkoffbeforehecan.IwillnotletRyanJanssonhavethelastword.Theveryideaofhimthinkingthathehasoneuponmemakesmybloodboil.
Iavoidhimasmuchaspossiblethroughouttheevening,managingtokeeptabsonwhereheisatalltimesandensurethatIamalwaysontheoppositesideoftheroom,talkingtoadifferentsetofpeople.BythetimeIleave,I’mproudofmyselfforsteeringclearofhimand,consequently,havinghadaverynicetimeenjoyinginterestingconversationswithcleverpeople.
IstepoutintotheeveningairandtakeamomenttogetmybearingsbeforeIstartwalkinginthedirectionofthetube.Thismomentarypauseisagravemistake.
RyanJanssonwalksout,too.
Hefrownsatme.Iscowlathim.
Istartwalkingawayfromthebookshopandtowardthetubestation.Icanhearhisfootstepsbehindme.IkeepgoingforabitbeforeIcalloutovermyshoulder,“Areyoufollowingme?”
“No.”
“Thenwhyareyouwalkingrightbehindme?”
“I’mwalkingtothetube,”hesaysirritably.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”Ihuff,pullingmyjacketcloseraroundmeandmarchingondeterminedly.
Buthisfootstepsonlygetcloser.Iglanceuptoseehimstridingalongnexttome,tryingtoovertakemeonthepavement.Iwalkevenfaster,refusingtolethimwin.Hisbrowfurrowedinconcentration,hespeedsup,takingthelead.Ialmostgointoalightjogtopacejustaheadofhimandhehuffsinannoyance.
Thesigncomesintoviewandwe’rebothfull-onrunningatthispoint.Wesprintdownthestepsundergroundand,feelingmoredeterminedtowinthanever,Imanagetotaketheleadbyanose,reachingthebarriersjustbeforehim.IstartrummaginginmybagformyphonesoIcanuseittogetthroughthebarrier.
“Damnit!”Ihiss.
RyanJanssonswanspastmethroughthebarriernexttomine.
Hestopsontheothersidetogivemeavictorioussmile,hishandsinhispockets.
“Youweren’tracingme,wereyou,Harper?”hesays,tiltinghisheadtooneside.“Becauseifyouwere,thenlookslikeyoulost.”
“Iwasnotracingyou,Ryan,”Isay,stillsearchingformyphone.“I’mnotachild.”
Heshrugssmuglybeforesaunteringawaytowardtheescalator.
“ButifIwasracingyou,”Iquicklycalloutafterhim,“Iwouldhavewonbecausetheracewastothebarrier,whichIreachedfirst!”
Hedoesn’trespond,steppingontothetopoftheescalatorthatcarrieshimoutofsight.
JULY2012
DuringtheinterviewforTheDailyBulletininternship,therewasanimplicationthattherecouldbeajobattheendofit.Thechancetobecomeajuniorreporteratanationalnewspaperisthedream.I’llworkmywayupandonedaybeafeatureseditororacolumnist.Iwantthatmorethananything.AndI’llworkharderthananyonetogetit.
Afterall,IneedtoprovetomyparentsthatIcanmakeitasawriter.
WhenIfirstgraduatedinearlyJune,Itookajobatabarnearmyparents’housewhileapplyingforjournalismpositions,realizingveryquicklyIwasdesperatelyunderqualifiedforanywritingjobs.Publicationswantedexperience,andforthatI’dhavetolandsomekindofinternship.ItwassupposedtobeanincrediblesummertobeinLondon:theOlympicswereloomingattheendofthemonthandtheatmosphereinthecitywasbuzzing—thebarwaspackedeverynight—butIcouldn’tenjoyanyoftheexcitement,weigheddownbythepressureofgettingafootinthedoor.
AttheendoftheDailyBulletininterview,theeditorsaidhecouldseeIreallywantedthis,andhekindofchuckledasthoughmaybeI’dcomeacrossabittoostrong.Iwasn’tembarrassedbythat,though.IwantedthemtoknowthatiftheychosemeIwouldbesogratefulthatIwouldn’tletthemdown.IscreamedwhenIreadtheemailsayingI’dbeenaccepted,theexcitementbubblingthroughmesofuriouslythatIcouldn’tstandstill,jumpingupanddownandpunchingtheairwithbothfists.Okay,soitwasn’taswish,fancyjobinthecity,itwasn’tawritinggig,butitwasastart.Finally,Icouldseeit.Iallowedmyselftoseeit:acareerinjournalism.
Ofcourse,Ididn’trealizetheyweretakingontwointerns,whichmeansthere’sobviouslyanextrahurdleforlandingajobhere.Butabitofhealthycompetitionisfinebyme.I’mnotgoingtoletthisRyanguygetinmyway.Ifthere’sajobwaitingattheendofthis,I’mgoingtobetheonewhogetsit.
Intheelevatorthatfirstmorning,editorialassistantCeliarunsthroughthetypesoftaskswecanexpecttobegettingoverthenextfewweeks.
“Coffeeandtearunsareparforthecourse,I’mafraid,aswellassomeadmintasks,liketakingnotes,photocopying,transcribingrecordedinterviews,butitisn’tallbleak,”shepromises,scrollingthroughherphone.“You’llbedoingsomeinterestingresearch,andonceyou’resettledin,youcanhelpwithinterviewsandmaybedosomewriting.”
“Forthepaper?”Iaskhopefully.
“Maybeforthewebsite.We’llseehowyougo.”
Thedoorspingopenandwestepintothehustleandbustleofthenewsroom,wherewe’reledtotwotinydesksinthebackcorner,withstacksofmessyfilespiledontopofthemnexttothecomputers.
Theseareoursforthetwomonths,Celiatellsus,swiftlydestroyingmyandRyan’smutualhopethatwewouldn’tbeworkingtogether.
ShewritesourlogindetailsonaPost-itnoteandsticksitontopofthenearestfolder.Afterpointingoutwherethekitchenandtoiletsare,shesaysshe’llletusgetourselvessortedandthenwillbebackinawhiletorunthroughsomethings,includingtheinternbinder—shepointsattheblackfileinthemiddleofthetwodesks.Ithaseverythingweneedtoknow,compiledbypreviousinternsastheywentalong.
“Doyouhaveapreferenceofdesk?”Ryanasksmeonceshe’sleft,findinghisvoice.
“Doyou?”
Thecornerofhismouthtwitches,asthoughhe’ssuppressingasmile.
“I’lltaketheonebythewindow,”Isaybeforehecananswer,hissecretivesmilepissingmeoffenoughtodecidethatpolitenessiswastedonsomeonelikehim.
“Yousure?”hesays,shruggingandpullingoutthechairoftheother.“Okay.”
“Thisoneisclearlythebestone,”Ipointout,sittingdown.“Whodoesn’twanttobenexttothewindow?”
“Someonewhodoesn’twanttheglareofthesunontheirscreen.”
“There’snoglare.”
“Nottoday,butonaniceday,itwillbeveryannoying,”hewarns.
“Todayisaniceday.It’sboilingoutthere.”
“It’shumid,”heagrees,“butnotsunny.”
Ipressmylipstogether,irritated.“Thesuniscomingoutinintervals,”Isay.
Idon’tknowwhenIbecameameteorologist,butthisguyisreallypushingmybuttons,andIfeeltheneedtoone-uphim.
Itypeinthelogindetailsandwaitforthedesktoptoload.AsIdo,Ican’thelpbutobserveRyantacklingthemessonhisdeskwithafiercedetermination,hisexpressionseriousandfocusedashebeginsthepainstakingprocessofgatheringthevariouspensscatteredeverywhereandslottingthemintoaknocked-overstationeryholder,thenreadingthenamesofthefilesandstackingthemtothesideofhisscreeninalphabeticalorder.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iask,unabletohidethenoteofridiculetomytone.
“Tidying.”
“Yeah,butwhyareyoudoingitsoinefficiently?”
Thatmakeshimstopabruptlyandlookupatme.“Youthinkthere’samoreefficientwayofdoingthis?”
“Watchandlearn,”Iannounce,beforesweepingeverythingonmydesktooneside.
Itdoesn’tgoassmoothlyasI’dlike:lotsofitemstoppleontothefloorandthevariouspiecesofpaperdispersedaboutthedeskcrumpletogetherorevenrip.ButIhavetheoutcomeIwashopingfor,aniceclearbitofspacerightinfrontofmykeyboard.
Ryanlooksappalled.“That’snottidying!”
“Itis.Kindof.”Ishrug,peeringatthescreenandexaminingthefoldersdottedaroundthedesktop.
“Youcan’tseriouslyworklikethat,”hesays,aghast.
“Worklikewhat?”
“Surroundedbymess.”
“Ipreferthingstobealittlechaotic,”Iinformhim,delightedathisdisapproval.“Youwantabitofcharacterwhenitcomestoawritingspace.”
Heshakeshisheadandgetsbacktohisorganizinguntilhisdeskisperfectlyneat,astarkcontrasttothebombsitethatismine.Acknowledgingthathe’sobviouslyoneofthoseneatfreaks,Itakegreatpleasureinhissideglances,knowingthatthestateofmysurroundingsmustbekillinghim.
“Shamewe’renotworkingindifferentdepartmentslikeyouwanted,”Isayinnocently,reachingfortheinternfolderandplonkingitontopofastackoffiles,someoftheircontentsflittingdownontothefloor.“Thenyouwouldn’thavetoputupwithmymess.Ohwell!It’sonlyeightweeks.”
Hedoesn’tsayanything,butIseethemuscleinhisjawtwitch.Ismiletomyself,flickingopenthefoldertriumphantly.CHAPTERSIX
TheAudreyAbbotissuewasahit.
Almosttwoweekslater,hercomebackisstillbeingwidelydiscussedonsocialmedia.Theweekendithitthenewsstands,theinterviewsparkedareexaminationofhowshewastreatedallthoseyearsagoincomparisonwithHank,andshereceivedanoverwhelmingwaveofsupport.AbouquetofflowersarrivedformethefollowingMondayfromShamari,andthenanotherfromtheproducersoftheplay—theybroughttheticketreleaseforwardandsoldoutthewholeruninthreeminutes.Oursocialmediaanddigitaldirector,Roman,hasbeenrushedoffhisfeettryingtokeepupwiththeinteraction.
Toabsolutelynoone’ssurprise,Cosmoistakingthecredit.
Infrontofthepublishers,he’sactingasthoughitwasallhisidea.ThankgoodnessIhavethebylineontheinterviewsohecan’tclaimtohavewrittenthepiecehimself,whichI’msurehewouldifhecould.TheDonBrightcoverstorythefollowingweekwasbarelynoticed.I’mwaitingforCosmotocongratulatemeontheinterviewbuthe’syettobringitup.Intheeditorialmeetingthatfollowedtheissue,heacknowledgedhowwellithadgonedownwithoutevenlookingatme.
Onourwayoutofthatmeetinglastweek,Rakheewhisperedencouragingly,“Maybenextweekwhenpeoplearestilltalkingaboutit,he’llgiveyouthecredityoudeserve.”
ButIhaveafeelingthatthatwon’tbethecasetoday,becauseI’mgoingtobelatetothemeetingagain.
However,IdohaveagoodreasonandI’mstandingrightoutsidetheoffice,soI’mverycloseby,butI’monholdtogetthroughtoamusicagentwhousedtolookafterArtistry.Thebandsplitupyearsagobut,iftheTwitterrumormillthismorningistobebelieved,themembersareindiscussionsforareuniontour.
“MissJenkins?”AvoicefinallysaysafterI’vehadtolistentoacracklyversionof“Pachelbel’sCanon”onrepeatfortenminutes.
“Yes!I’mstillhere!”
“Oh,hi,I’mafraidhewon’tbeabletomakeittothephonenow,”theagent’sPAtellsmeregretfully.“ButI’lllethimknowyoucalled.”
“Ijustneedaconfirmationonthetour,”Isay,tryingnottosoundtooimpatient.“Ifit’shappening,then—”
“I’mafraidIcan’tcomment,butasIsaid,I’llpassonthemessageyoucalled.”
Isigh,knowingI’mfightingalosingbattle.“Allright,thankssomuch.”
Afterhangingup,Iopenmyemailsandpingaquickmessageacrosstotheagenttoaskhimtocallmeback,casuallyremindinghimthatthelasttimeIsawhim,Iputthoseespressomartinisonmycompanycard,sotechnicallyheowesmeadrinkbutI’llhappilyacceptaphonecallasreplacement.
ThenIpushthroughthedoorsoftheofficeandhurrytoMeetingRoomThree,steelingmyselfforsomekindofsnarkycommentfromCosmo.Hedoesn’tdisappoint.AsIslideintotheroom,he’sinthemiddleoftalkingaboutexpandingtheluxurytravelsectionandpausestosay,“Tellme,Harper,areyoulateforeverythinginyourlife,orisitjustforwork-relatedappointments?”
“Sorry!”Isaycheerily.“Butitwasforagoodreason.”
“I’msure,”hemutters.
“I’llremindyouthatlasttimeIsaidthat,itwasbecauseIwassecuringtheAudreyAbbotinterview,whichhasbeenourmostsuccessfulissueoftheyear.”
Heclearshisthroat.“Editorialmeetingsareextremelyimportant,andIexpectyoutorespectthemenoughtoarriveontime.”
“Ofcourse,Cosmo,”Ireplysweetlywithabowofmyhead.“Butasyou’veneveroncerequiredmetospeakinaneditorialmeetingbefore,Ithoughtthatmypresenceheremightnotbeasimportantasspeakingtotheagentofthemuch-lovedbandArtistry,whomightbegettingbacktogetherforatour.”
Mimigaspsloudly.“Areyouserious?Ilovethem!!”
“Areticketsonsale?”Rakheeasksurgently,whippingoutherphoneandpromptingalotofotherpeopleintheroomtodothesame.
IsmilesmuglyasCosmo’seyesbulgeoutofhisheadinfury.
“Canwegetbacktoourmeeting,please?”hedemands.
Everyonereluctantlyputstheirphonesdown.
“Don’tworry,”Iwhisperaudiblyforeveryonetohear,“therehasn’tbeenatourannouncementyet.”
Theyallgratefullyrelax.Cosmorapshisknucklesimpatientlyonthetable.
“Right.AsIwassaying,”hegrumbles,“we’regoingtoexpandtheluxurytravelsectionasitdrawsinmoreadvertising.Thankyou,Mimi,foryouroverviewonhowthat’sgoingtolook.Now,ontoanotherveryimportantmatter—asyouknow,Rakheeisleavingusintwoweeks,andwe’vebeenlookingforherreplacement.”
Myheartsinks,asithasdoneeverytimehermoveisbroughtupinconversation.Shecatchesmyeyeandgivesmeanit’s-going-to-be-okaysmile.
“I’mpleasedtoannouncewehavealreadyfoundthepersonwhoisgoingtostepintoherrole,andI’mdelightedtosaythatheisinfactheretoday.”
He’shere?!Whocomesintoanofficetwoweeksbeforetheirstartdate?Ican’tbelieveRakheedidn’tgivemetheheads-uponwhowasreplacingher.Ihavetositnexttothisperson!
“Pleasegiveawarmwelcometoournewfeatureseditor,”Cosmocontinues,gesturingtowardthebackoftheroom.“RyanJansson!”
Mybloodturnstoice.
Ispinroundtoseehimsittinginthebackcorneroftheroom.MymouthdropsopenasheacknowledgesCosmo’sintroductionwithacurtnodtotheteam.
Thishastobesomesortofjoke.
“Ryancurrentlyworksonthefeaturesteamonthepaper,soheknowsthebrandinsideout,andhe’sadabhandatcommissioning,writing,andediting.We’redelightedtohaveyoujoinus,Ryan.”
“Thankyou,”herepliesquietly.
“Marvelous,”Cosmosays,beforeclappinghishands.“Right,then.Idon’tthinkthere’sanythingelsetoaddress…”
AsCosmoroundsoffthemeeting,Ryanglancesovertome.Iquicklylookaway,mycheeksburning.There’sthesoundofchairsscrapingbackaseveryonegetsuptogo,andItripovermyfeetonthewayout,stillinshockattheannouncement.
Rakheefindsmeleaningonmydesk,tryingtomakesenseoftheimpendingdoomthatI’llbeforcedtositnexttoRyanJanssoneverysingleday.
“Harper?”sheasks,plonkingherselfdowninherchairandswivelingittofaceme.“Areyouokay?”
“RyanJansson?”Iwhisper,checkinghe’snowherenear.Thankfully,he’sstillinthemeetingroom,talkingtoCosmo.“That’swhoyou’vechosentobethefeatureseditor?”
“He’sgoingtobeagreataddition,”shesays,completelyoblivious.“He’sknowledgeable,driven,andanexcellenteditor.Greatexperience,too—beforeTheCorrespondence,heworkedasalifestylereporterforVenture,youknow,thebusinessmagazine.HehasafewotherbignamesonhisCV,too.He’simpressive.”
“Doesheeversmile?”Mimiasks,leaningforwardonherdesk.
“Admittedly,he’sabit…reserved,”Rakheeacknowledges.“He’sthequiettype.Veryfocused.ButI’msurehe’llrelaxandlightenupabitoncehe’ssettledintotherole.”
Irunahandthroughmyhair.“Thisis…unbelievable.”
“Whyareyousoupset?”Rakheeasks.
Mimigasps.“Ohmygod!That’stheguyyouhadeye-sexwiththeotherday!”
“Youhadeye-sexwithRyanJansson?”Rakheewantstoknow,startled.
“No!”Ihiss,horrifiedthatsomeonemightoverhear.
“Theydefinitelydid,”MimitellsRakheegleefully.“Thechemistrywasveryintense.”
“No,there’snochemistry!Theopposite,ifanything.Ifyoumustknow…wedon’tgeton,”Isayquietlythroughgrittedteeth.
“Yousaidyoudidn’tknowhim,”Mimirecalls.
“Idon’t!Wemet…recently.Atabooklaunch.Hewasarrogantandobnoxiousandpatronizing.Wecan’tworktogether.”
EmergingfromthemeetingroomwithCosmo,RyancontinuestowardusasCosmosplitsoffintohisoffice,andIquicklysitdown,duckingmyheadbehindmymonitor.
“Thanksagain,Rakhee,fortheopportunity,”hesays,appearingatherside.
Ibusymyselfwithmynotebook,anglingmychairawayfromthem,towardthewall.
“Don’tthankme!Yougotthejobonyourownmerits,”shesaysbrightly.
“Bigshoestofill,”heremarks.
“Nah,”shechuckles.“Hey,Ihearyou’vemetourwonderfulcelebrityeditor,Harper.”
WhathaveIeverdonetoyou,Rakhee?
Ireluctantlyturnmychairtofacehim
“IwastellingRakheewemetatthatbooklaunchrecently,”Iexplainbeforehecanjumptoanyconclusions.
“Right,”hesays,hisbrowfurrowed.
“I’msureyoutwowillgetonwell,”Rakheeaddsnervously,notinghisgraveexpressionthatlikelymatchesmine.
Hiseyesflickertowardthescatteredpapersandheapedbooksacrossmydesk,andhesuddenlylookspained.
“Areyouaneat-deskpersonorsomeonewhoprefersabusyworkspace?”Rakheecontinuesgallantly.
“Neat,”hereplieswithouthesitation
“Apparently,Harper’smessydeskreflectshercreativity,”Mimipipesup.
“Studieshaveshownthatmessinessandcreativityarestronglycorrelated,”Iexplain,liftingmychin.
“Studieshavealsoshownthatmessinessisasignificantcontributingfactortostress,”heretorts.
“AlbertEinsteinoncesaid,‘Ifacluttereddeskisasignofaclutteredmind,ofwhat,then,isanemptydeskasign?’”Iquote,delightedwithmyselfforrememberingthatone.
“Sciencehasproventhatourbrainsthriveinanorderlyenvironment,”hesays.
“Researchhasalsoproventhatthoseinclutteredsettingsaremorelikelytobreakthemold,whilethoseinneat,orderlyonessimplyfollowsocialconvention,”Ideclare.
Heliftshiseyebrowsatme,asthoughacceptinganunspokenchallenge.
“Insomecases,disorganizationisasignoflaziness,”hesnapsback.
“Neatandemptyspacesoftenbelongtosterile,bland,anduninspiringpersonalities.”
“Messinesscansignaladeeperunderlyingissueoffeelingoverwhelmed.”
“TidinessisusuallyasignofaTypeApersonality.”
Hehesitates,frowning.“That’sagoodthing.”
“Isit?”Icounter.
Henarrowshiseyesatme.“TypeApersonalitiesareassociatedwithhighachievement,strongmotivation,andbeingmeticulous.”
“Aswellasimpatience,hostility,andstress.”
“Andyou’ddescribeyourselfasTypeB,wouldyou,Harper?”heasks.
“I’dsayIhaveamorecasualandcarefreeapproach.”
“Soyouwouldn’tdescribeyourselfas,say,aworkaholic?”hesuggests,watchingmecarefully.
“No,Iwouldn’t.”
Mimisnorts.Iglareather.Ryanlookssatisfied.
“Ryan!Good,you’restillhere,”Cosmocallsout,stickinghisheadoutofhisofficedoor.“Iwanttogooverafewthingswithyou.”
“I’llberightthere,”herepliesbeforeturningbacktoaddressus.“Ilookforwardtoworkingwithyou,Mimiand…Harper.Rakhee,goodluckwitheverything.”
“Thanks,”shesmiles.“You’llcometomygoodbyedrinks,though,right?”
“Seeyouthen.”
HestickshishandsinhispocketsandslopesofftoCosmo’soffice.Takingadeepbreath,Ibringupmyemails.Afterclickingangrilyatacoupleofthem,InoticeRakheeandMimistaringatme.
“What?”Iask,frowningatthem.
“Nothing,”Mimisaysinnocently,beforelookingtoRakhee.“YouseewhatImean,though,right?”
“Itwasoutofcontrol,”Rakheeagrees.
“Whatwas?”Iask.
“Thechemistry,”sherepliesbreezily
“Andtheeye-sex,”Mimiadds.
“Yes,therewasalotofthat.”Rakheenods.
“What!?Haveyoubothlostyourminds?”Isay,unabletokeepmyvoicedown.“He’sinfuriating!Itoldyou,wedon’tgeton!Ican’tbelieveyouhiredhim,Rakhee.Thisisgoingtobeacompletedisaster.”
“Foryoumaybe.Butforme,”Mimisays,grinningatRakhee,“it’sgoingtobeveryentertaining.”
There’snohopeofavoidingRyanatRakhee’sgoodbyedrinks.
Itrymybest,butthepubareathatshe’sreservedisn’thuge,soIknowI’mgoingtobeforcedtoseehimatsomepointtonight.AndstartingMonday,Ihavetositnexttohimeveryday.I’mtwoginandtonicsdownandaimingforatleastthreebeforeIhavetoacknowledgehim.
“Thissucks,”Mimisighs.
IwatchRyanashelooksinterestedinwhateverCosmoissaying.NothingCosmosaysisinteresting,soRyaniseitheragiantsuck-uporjustasinsufferableasCosmo.
“Yeah,”Ireply,shakingmyheadathim.“Itdoes.”
“I’mgoingtoreallymisshavingRakheeintheoffice,”Mimisaysglumly.
YouknowsomethingelseaboutRyanJansson?He’snotquiet.Notreally.Everyonealwaysthinkshe’sreserved,butwhenhewantsto,he’lltalkandtalk,usuallydisagreeingwithwhateverpointyou’remaking.I’vewitnessedthissidetohimonmanyoccasions.Thesexy,brooding,tight-lippedpersonahehasaroundeveryoneelseisafa?ade.
“Idon’tknowwhatwe’regoingtodo,”Isay,watchinghimashecontinuestolistentoCosmo’srambling.
“Atleastwealwayshaveeachother,”Mimisays,grippingmyarm.“Youcanneverleaveme.”
“Oh,Iwon’tbetheonetogo,”Iassureher.
Shefollowsmyeyelineandthengivesmeastrangelook.“AreyoustillobsessingoverhowmuchyoudislikeRyan?”
“I’mnotobsessingoverit.”
“Youdon’tneedtoworry,Harper.Iknowyou’renervousabouthimsittingnexttoyou,butyoustillhavemerightacross!Andoncehegetstoknowyou,Iknowyou’llwinhimover.”
“Idon’twanttowinhimover.Ifanything,heneedstowinmeover.”
Shelaughs.“I’mnotsureI’veeverseenyouthisstubbornaboutanything.Hemustreallypushyourbuttons,huh?”
“He’llpusheveryone’sbuttonssoonenough,”Iinformherhaughtily.“Trustme.RyanJanssonmayseemharmless,butIknowthetruth.”
Shegivesmeastrangelook.“You’vemethim,what,twice?”
Ishakemyhead,forgettingmywhitelie.“Oh,I’vegotthemeasureofhimallright.”
Hesuddenlyglancesupandcatchesmyeye.Ilookaway,butit’stoolate.HeexcuseshimselffromCosmo’scompanyandmakeshiswaytowardus.
“He’scomingover,”Mimiwarnsmethroughhersmile,beforesayingbrightly,“Hi,Ryan!Excitedtojointheteam?”
“Yes,”hereplies,greetingmewithacurtnod.
“We’relookingforwardtohavingyou,”shesayswarmly.“Ifyouneedanything,youcanletusknow.”Herphonestartsvibratinginherpocketandshechecksthescreen.“It’smybetterhalf—Ishouldtakethis.”
Shegiveshimanapologeticsmileandthenducksoutofourconversationassheanswersthephone,leavingRyanandmealonetogether.Traitor.
“So,”hebegins.
“So,”Ireply.
“Weneedtomakethiswork,”hesays,loweringhisvoicesonoonecanhear.
Iwrinklemynoseathim.“Makewhatwork?”
“Us.Together.Sittingnexttoeachother.Beingonthesameteam.”Heletsoutalongsigh.“Clearly,you’restillupsetaboutwhathappened,eventhoughitwasalongtimeagoandIthinkthat—”
“Excuseyou,”Ihiss,“Iamnotstillupsetaboutwhathappened.”
Hesnorts.“Oh,really.”
“Really.”
“BecausefromwhatIcantellfromourrecentinteractions,youstillhavealotofhostilitytowardme,”hesays,scowling.
“That’snotbecauseofwhathappened,Ryan,”Isaycrossly.
“Thenwhyisit?”
“Perhapsyourgeneralpersonalityannoysme.”
Herollshiseyes.“Okay.That’smature.”
“Youknow,you’vehardlybeenlovelyandsweettowardmeinourrecentinteractions,”Ipointout.“Maybeyou’retheonewhobearsagrudge.”
“WhywouldIbearagrudge?”
“Idon’tknow.Iwon’tpretendtounderstandhowyourschemingmindworks.”
“Harper,”hesaysquietly,pinchingthetopofhisnoseasthoughhe’stryingtokeephistemper,“canweatleastbecivil?Sothatbothofusdon’tdreadgoingintotheofficeeveryday?Canyouforgetaboutwhathappenedand—”
“AsfarasI’mconcerned,nothingeverhappened,”Isnap,lookinghimrightintheeye.
Aflashofemotioncrosseshisexpression,butIcan’tquiteworkoutwhatitis.Hurtperhaps,orregret?Maybeconfusion.It’sgoneasquicklyasitcame.
“Great,”hesaysmatter-of-factly.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Whydoyoukeepdoingthat?”hegrowlsimpatiently.
“Doingwhat?”
“YouhavetohavethelastwordwheneverIspeaktoyou.”
“Maybeit’syouwhoalwayshastohavethelastwordandthat’swhymyhavingthelastwordpissesyouoffsomuch,”Iobservesmugly.
Herollshiseyes,takingaswigofhisbeer.“You’reunbelievable.Isitalwaysgoingtobelikethisbetweenus?”
“There’snothingbetweenus.”
“Andyouclaimthatyou’renotstillangry,tenorsoyearson.”
“Itoldyoutoforgetaboutit!”Isnap.
“Iwishyouwouldforgetaboutit.Iwish…”
Hetrailsoff,hisexpressionsofteningasIglareathim.
Inoticehiseyesflickerdowntomylips.Mythroattightensandmyheartbeginstothudagainstmychest.Suddenly,mythoughtsarecloudedbyhowcloseIamtohim.Mycheeksflushingunderhisgaze,Iexhaleshakilyandswallow.Hisforeheadcreasesandthen,outofthecornerofmyeye,Iseehisfingerstwitch.IthinkaboutwhatwouldhappenifIreachedoutandpulledhimtowardmeand—
“Jansson!Thereyouare.”
Cosmoappearsnexttousandwejoltapart.Myfaceisonfire.
“I’dlikeyouropiniononsomething,”Cosmocontinues,clappinghimontheback.Henoticesmeandaddsimpatiently,“UnlessI’minterrupting,ofcourse.”
“No,”Iassurehim.“Iwasgoingtogogetanotherdrinkanyway.”
Imovetowardthebar,eagertoerasewhatjusthappened.Ican’tletmyselfthinkthatwayaboutRyan.IfocusonsteadyingmybreathingasIleanagainstthecounterandwaitformydrink,closingmyeyesinthehopeofshuttingoutthememories.CHAPTERSEVEN
It’sofficial:RyanJanssonisimpossible.
Idon’tknowhowlongI’llbeabletoworkintheseconditions.He’sonlybeenhereacoupleofweeksandalreadyhe’sdrivingmecrazy.Hisfirstday,hewaltzedinwithaboxof—getthis—homemadecookies.Whatkindofpersondoesthat?Asneaky,arrogant,manipulativeone,that’swho.Ofcourse,thewholeteamflockedaroundhimandhisstupidcookies,praisinghisbakingskillsandsayinghemustsharetherecipe.
Please.
Iwasn’tfooledforonemoment.IsawhimnervouslytakeouttheTupperwareandslideitontothetreatshelf,whereweputoutedibleitemssentinforthefoodanddrinkreviewpages.Thenhestalkedbacktohisdeskwithoutannouncingthecookiestoanyone,obviouslywaitingforMimitocallout,“Hey,wheredidthesecookiescomefrom?”whenshepassedalittlelater,sothathecouldlookmodestasheadmittedthathebakedthemovertheweekend.
Whataperformance.
Ididnotfawnoverhiscookies,nomatterhowdelicioustheysmelled.Iwouldnevergivehimthatkindofsatisfaction.Whenhenoticedmestaringatthem,anamusedsmileplayedonhislipsandhecasuallysaid,“Youcanhelpyourself,Harper.”
“No,thankyou,”Irepliedcivilly,aswasrequired.
“They’vegotextrachocolatechips.”
“I’llpass,”Isaid,coolasacucumber.“Idon’tlikecookies.”
Mimithenhadtoruineverythingbysaying,“What?Youlovecookies!LastThursdayyouatefourofthoseMillie’sCookiesthatweresentin.Wow,Ryan,thesearedelicious!”
“Thanks,”hesaid,beforeleaningtowardmeandmuttering,“Ipromiseyouthey’renotpoisonous.”
“Ineversaidtheywere.”
“Youshouldn’tnoteatthemjustbecauseImadethem.”
“Itoldyou,Idon’tlikecookies.”
“Suityourself,”hegrumbled.
Iignoredhimandgotonwithmyday,successfullyavoidingthetemptationtoeatanyofthosecookies,despitehavingtowalkpastthetreatshelfseveraltimes.
IfonlyitwasaseasytoavoidRyan.
Allweekhe’smadesnidecommentsaboutthestateofmydeskandhowmy“mess”isencroachingonhischaracter-lessspace.Hestartedsmall,passive-aggressivelypushingbackanypapersthatslidoverontohisdesk,butonthethirdorfourthtime,hebeganclearinghisthroatpointedlyashedidso.Idecidednottoacknowledgehimatall.Ifanything,Imighthaveensuredthatacoupleofthingsmadeitovertohisside.
Afewdayslater,Iarrivedtodiscoverthatthreepilesofbookshadbeenneatlystackedalongthelinebetweenourdesks,creatingamakeshiftdivider.
“Hopethisdoesn’tbotheryou,”hesaidbreezilyashemarkedupalayoutandIsatinmychair.“Iappreciateitgivesyoulessspacetospreadout.”
“I’mveryhappywiththisarrangement,”Ireplied,beforenoticingthathehadcunninglysnaffledmymulticoloredbirobeforeerectinghisbookfortress.“Although,thatpenyou’reusingisonthewrongsideofthebarrier.”
Hehadtheaudacitytolookconfused.“Excuseme?”
“That’smypen.Andifyou’resointentonmakingsurethere’snocross-contaminationofourthings,thenpleasegiveitback.”
“Thisisnotyourpen,”hesaid,twirlingitroundinhisfingers.
“Ithinkyou’llfinditis.”
“Harper,”hesaidwearily,“Igotthisfromthestationerycupboard.”
“Theydon’tstockthosekindofpensinthestationerycupboard.YoupluckeditfrommydeskandhopedIwouldn’tnotice.”
“Iwouldn’thavebeenabletofindanythingonyourdesk,evenifI’dwantedto!”
“Uh,Harper?”Mimisqueakedfromacrosstheway,holdingupabiro.“Ihaveasparepenifyouneedone.”
“Idon’tneedone,thanksMimi,Ialreadyhaveone.Ryanisusingit.”
“Maybeifyoutidiedup,you’dfindthepenyou’rereferringtoburiedunderneathallthestuffstrewnacrossyourdesk,”hesaidhaughtily.
“Don’tyouthinkit’sabitoddthatyou’resobotheredbyafewbitsofpaperonsomeoneelse’sdesk?”Iremarked,crossingmyarms.“I’mnotbotheredbyanyoneelse’sdesk.Mimiisn’tbotheredbyanyoneelse’sdesk—”
“Don’tbringmeintothis,”Mimimuttered.
“Maybethere’sanunderlyingissueherethatyouneedtoaddress,Ryan,”Icontinuedbrazenly.“Ithinkyourobsessionwiththestateofmydeskhassomethingtodowithfeelingoutofcontrolinotherareasofyourlife.”
Henarrowedhiseyesatmebeforestandingupandholdingoutthepen.
“Here,”hesaidwithaheavysigh.“Justtakeit.”
“Thankyou,”Isaidcrisplyasheplaceditinmyhandandmarchedawaytowardthestationerycupboard.“Ifyouwanttoborrowanything,Ryan,nexttimejustask.We’reverypleasantthissideofthebookfort.”
Itwasadeeplysatisfyingconclusiontothediscussion.
WhenIlaterfoundmymulticoloredretractablebirofoldedintoanoldissueofthemagazinelyingnexttomycomputer,whilesimultaneouslyholdingtheoneI’ddemandedbackfromRyan,Iquicklyclosedthemagazine,determinedtogetridoftheevidencewhennoonewaslooking.
Listen,Igetthatifyou’reanorganizedneatfreak,I’mnotgoingtobeyournumberonedeskbuddy.Butapartfromthat,Iamanexcellentcolleague.I’mcheerfulandenthusiasticintheoffice,andsupportiveandthoughtfultowardotherpeople’swork.
Ryan,ontheotherhand,maybeneatandoccasionallybringinbakedgoods,buthebringsdownthemoodwithhisaloof,unapproachabledemeanor.Healsoseemstogooutofhiswaytopissmeoff.
First,hegaveGabby,theeditorialassistant,sometranscriptionstodoforhim,andwhenshementionedthatshewasdoingoneforme,Ioverheardhimsayingthathiswasmoreimportant.Ijumpedtomyfeetandcalledoutacrosstheoffice,“Excuseme,butwhyareyourtranscriptionsmoreimportantthanmine?You’renotbeingdismissiveofcelebritypieces,areyou,Ryan?”
“No,ofcoursenot,Harper,”herepliedwithafixedsmile,blushingfuriouslyastherestoftheofficejerkedtheirheadsuptopayattention.PoorGabbylookedpanicked.“IwasmerelysuggestingtoGabbythatsheprioritizemytaskasmydeadlineistomorrowandIknowthattheinterviewshe’stranscribingforyouisn’tdueuntiltheendofnextweek.”
“Actually,I’mplanningonwritingupthatinterviewthisafternoonbecausetheartdeskneedstostartworkingonthelayouttomorrow,”Iinformedhim,notmissingtheopportunitytoaddbitterly,“andthereasonartwantstogetstartedonitisbecauseit’sgoingtobeadifficultonetofitin,nowthatit’sgonefromathree-pagertoadoublespread,thankstoyourinsistencethatyourpiececelebratingconartistsneedsmorepages.”
“It’snotapiececelebratingconartists.It’sapsychologicalexplorationofwhyweseemtohaveanobsessionwithwatchingTVseriesandfilmsaboutthem,”hesaidimpatiently.“WhichIalreadyexplainedtoyouthismorning.Andwhiletheartdeskmayneedtostartworkingonyourpiecesoon,theyneedtomockupmyarticlefirsttomeetthedeadline,soIthinkit’smoreimportantthatmytranscriptionsaredoneassoonaspossible.Wouldn’tyouagree?”
BeforeIcouldanswer,hecontinued:“Oristhereanunderlyingissuethatyouneedtoaddresshere,Harper?Maybeyourneedtogofirstherehassomethingtodowithfeelingoutofcontrolinotherareasofyourlife.”
Howdareheusemyownexcellentwordsagainstme?!
IwasfuriousandI’dhavelikedtohavetoldhimwheretogo,butinsteadIhadtosmilesweetly(becauseeveryonewaslooking)andsay,“Allright,then.Gabby,pleasedogoaheadandtranscribeRyan’sinterviews.Ofcourse,ifyou’dhavecometomefirst,Ryan,andaskedwhetheritwasokayforyourtranscriptiontotakeprioritywithyourreasonableexplanation,Iwouldn’thavemindedintheleast.That’susuallyhowwedoitaroundhere.”
“Myapologies.I’llknowfornexttime,”hesaid.
IsatbackdownandglancedacrossatMimi,whowhispered,“Awkward,”andthenquicklypretendedtobeworkingwhenRyancamebacktohisdesk.
ThatwasStrikeOne.(Ihaven’tincludedthebookfortinthestrikesbecauseI’mfeelinggenerous.)
StrikeTwooccurredduringtheeditorialmeetingwhenCosmocasuallydroppedthebombthatRyanwouldbewritingupaprofilepieceontheMPwhosebooklaunchwebothattended.
“Excuseme,”Isaid,raisingmyhandasCosmowaffledonabouthowitwassuretobeathrillingarticle.
“Yes,Harper,we’reallawarethatyou’rehereontimetoday,”Cosmosaidwithachuckletohimself.“Youdon’tneedtodrawattentiontothefact.”
“Ha,no,”Isaidimpatiently,causingCosmotoscowl.“IwantedtoaskwhyRyaniswritingthatpieceandnotme?”
Cosmoraisedhiseyebrows,heartilyamusedatthequestion.“Youthinkyoushouldbewritingthatarticle?”
“Yes,youmayrememberImentionedtoyouthatI’dbeentothatbooklaunchandthoughtthatitwouldmakeaninterestingprofilepiece.Yousaidyouweren’tsureitwasagoodfitbutthatyou’dthinkaboutit.”
Ryanshiftedinhisseat,asthoughhewasembarrassed.Iwasn’tbuyingit.Hesawmeatthatbooklaunch,sohemusthaveknownI’dalreadypitchedthisidea.Hewasplayingdumbintheknowledgethatifit’sbetweenhimandme,Cosmoisalwaysgoingtopickafellowmemberofthe“lads’club.”
“I’mafraidIdon’trememberthatconversation,”Cosmosaid.“Ryancametomewithafullyformedpitchand,thoughI’msureyou’ddoanicejobofit,hehasexperiencewritingarticlesofthisnature,soIthinkhe’sprobablythebestpersontotakethisoneon.”
“I’vewrittenarticlesaboutpoliticians,”IremindedCosmo.
“Yes,youdidthatpiecelastyearontheformereducationsecretary,”Ryanrecalled.
Iwaitedforhimtoaddsomethingdismissive,buthedidn’texpand,andinsteadlookedsurprisedthateveryonewasstaringathim,asthoughhehadn’trealizedhe’dbeenspeakingoutloud.
“Yes,butthispitchisalittlemorespecificthanspeakingtoapoliticianabouttheirlifestyle,”Cosmocontinued.“AsRyanhaspriorknowledgeoftheissue,sincehe’swrittenaboutitforthemainpaperinthepast,itmakessenseforhimtowritethis.”
“Cosmo,Ishouldbetheonewritingthispiece!Webothwenttothesamebooklaunch—IknowasmuchaboutthisissueasRyandoes!”
“Youknowalotaboutlandmines?”Cosmoasked,surprised.
Iblinkedathiminconfusion.“Landmines?”
Ryan’sexpressionshiftedtopuredelight.
“Yes,Harper,”hesaid,watchingmecuriously.“Iwasplanningontalkingtothepoliticianabouthisfierceandpassionatecampaigningtoraiseawarenessofthehumanitariancrisiscausedbyleftoverlandmines.Youremember,hereadachapterregardingtheissueathislaunch.”
“Right.”Inodded.“Ofcourse.Iknewthat.”
“Andyouweresayingthatyouknowalotabouttheissue?”
“Yes,”Ilied,myfacegrowingevenhotterthanbefore.
“Well,thenyoushouldwritethepiece,”Ryanoffered,causingCosmotolookalarmed.“Asyouknowsomuchaboutlandmines.”
“Idoknowalotaboutlandmines,”Isaid,withnoideawhyIwasdiggingmyselfintoabiggerholeexceptthatIwasn’tabouttolosefaceinfrontofmyworknemesis.“PrincessDianawalkedthroughthatminefield,forexample.”
Thatsecretive,amused,mockingsmileofRyan’sappearedonhislips.Theoneheseemstoalwaysreserveforme.
God,he’stheworst.
Iclearedmythroat.“Butactually,Ihavealotonthisweek,soifyou’vealreadyassignedittoRyan,Cosmo,thenI’mhappytolethimwritethatone.”
Cosmolookedrelieved.
“Thanks,Harper,that’sreallygoodofyou,”Ryansaidgraciously.
Mimi’sshoulderswereshakingwithsilentlaughter.
StrikeNumberThreehappensonadrearyTuesdaymorningafteraneveningspentataLeicesterSquarepremiere,atwhichImanagedtomakemanyexcellentnotesinmynotebookaboutthefilmandthestarsattendingit,butthenlostsaidnotebookbyWednesdaymorning.
WhileI’mbusyexcavatingthecontentsofmybag,Ryanappearswithacarrotcakehewhippeduplastnight.
Idon’tknowwhythisimpresseseveryone.
Carrotcakeisn’teventhebestsponge
“Harper,isLiamlookingforwardtotakingpartinmyannualbirthdaysportsday?”Mimisays,takingasmallbiteofRyan’scakeandswooning.“Ihopehe’sbeenpracticinghisbeer-pongskillsbecauseIwillbeentirelyjudginghischaracteronthose.”
Ipause,lookingatherguiltily.“Liamcan’tcome.”
“Ohno!Ithoughtyousaidhecould?”
That’sbecausehehadtoldmehecould.Butwe’dspokenaboutitovertheweekendandthingshadchanged.WewereatarestaurantnearmyplaceandIhadbeenrantingaboutRyanwhileLiamnoddedloyally,saying“hmm”inalltherightplaces.ThenI’dmentionedacharityballthatwascomingupinmydiary.
“Idon’tunderstandwhyRyan,ofallpeople,gotaninvitetoo,”Ihuffed,tearingoffachunkofsourdoughbreadaswewaitedtoorder.“He’snotinterestedinstufflikethat.Itwillbefullofcelebrities,andit’snotlikeheevenbotherstotalktopeopleattheseevents.Hestandsinthecorner,actingallhighandmighty.”
“Doyourememberwetalkedaboutmeaccompanyingyoutoaworkevent?”Liamasked,leaningforwardacrossthetable
“Yeah,course.”
“Howaboutthisballyou’retalkingabout?”
Ihesitated.“Youwanttocome?”
“Harper,”hesaid,lookingatmeindisbelief,“ofcourseIwanttocome!Itwouldbesofuntobeyourplus-one.Itwouldbenicetospendtimetogetherataposhevent.AndIcouldmeetyourfriendsinthebusiness.”
Ipausedtoconsider.“Iguess.AlthoughI’mnotsurehowmanypeoplegoingaremyfriendsperse.Someofthemare,butothersarereallyjustwork—”
“Iwanttobeapartofyourlife,Harper,andthisstuffisimportanttoyou,Iknowitis.SoI’dreallyliketogowithyoutothisevent.”Hiseyeswereexpectant.
Ismiledathim.“That’sreallysweet.Okay,I’llaskforaplus-one.”
“Amazing!”Hesatbackandslappedhisknee.“Man,thisisgoingtobesocool.Isitblacktie?”
“Yes,butdon’tgettooexcited.Ihavetogetyouaninvitationfirst.”
“You’llgetone,”hesaidconfidently,beamingatme.“Ifanyonecan,youcan.Thiswillbesuchagreatopportunitytomeetclients.AndIgettobeyourarmcandy.Win-win!”
Ilaughed.“Speakingofbeingmyarmcandy,areyouexcitedtomeeteveryoneatMimi’sbirthday?It’snextweekend.”
“Oh,right,”henodded,lookingpensive.“Mimi’sbirthdayparty.”
“Don’tworry,IknowI’vemadeabigdealoutofthesegames,butthey’rereallyjustsillyones.Itdoesn’tmatterifyou’renotverygoodatthem.”
Liamgrimaced.“Idon’tthinkI’llbeabletomakeitanymore.”
“What?Really?”
“Ihavesomuchworktodo.Ireallyneedtofocusonexpandingthebusinessatthemoment.It’sallveryexciting,butitmeansthatmyweekendsaretakenupwithworkunfortunately.”
“But…ifyouwantedtogettoknowmyfriends,thenMimi’spartyisbetterthanthecharityball.”
“Iknowit’sashame,butIcanmeetthemanothertime.Therewillbeotherweekends.”
Ifeltslightlytakenabackbutsaid,“Oh.Okay.Well,I’msadyouwon’tbeabletocome.”
“Metoo,”hesaid,perusingthemenu.“Ooh—”heglancedupexcitedly“—shallwegetthearanciniballsandbuffalomozzarellatostart?”
IfeelguiltythatIdidn’tmessageMimithentoletherknowthatLiamcouldnolongercome,ratherthandroppingitonhernowintheoffice,butIhadbeenputtingitoff.Idon’twantherthinkingthathe’snotmakinganeffortwithmyfriends.I’msurehewillwhenhehasthetime.
Still,Ican’thelpbutcomparehislackofenthusiasmforMimi’sbirthdaywithhisintenseeagernessfornetworkingatthecharityball.Liam’sambitioniswhatattractedmetohiminthefirstplace,butitdoesmakemedoubthisintentionsalittle.Tobefair,it’snotlikeI’veprioritizedgettingtoknowhisfriends,either.
I’mnotsurethat’sagoodsign.
“I’mreallysorry,Mimi,hedidwanttocomeandwashopinghe’dbeabletomakeit,”Itellherhurriedly.“Buthe’sgotsomuchworkonatthemoment,andit’stakingoverhisweekends,too.Ihopethishasn’truinedtheroundersteams.Ifeelawful.”
“Don’tfeelbad,”shetellsme,brightening.“Thisactuallyworksoutquitenicely.”
Ilookatherinsurprise.“Itdoes?”
“Obviously,I’msorrythatLiamcan’tcome,”shesays,takinganotherbiteofthecarrotcake.“ButIwasgoingtoinviteRyan,too,whichwouldhavemadetheteamsunevennumbers,butnowwithoutLiam,they’llbethesame.”
“I…sorry?”
Beforeshecanaddressmybaffledreaction,shecallsoutRyan’sname,stoppinghiminhistracksashereturnstohisdesk.
“IwantedtoinviteyoutomybirthdaypartythisSaturday,”Mimisayscheerily.
Helookspuzzled.“Really?”
“Yeah,course!Ifyou’refree?”
“Yes,Iam.Thanks,”hesays,hisforeheadcreasingasthoughhe’stryingtoworkoutwhyshewouldpossiblywanthimtocome.Heglancesatmesuspiciously.
“Great!It’sgoingtobeadayoffungamesinthepark,sogetyourcompetitivehatonandprayforsunshine.”
Heallowshimselfasmallsmile.“Idefinitelyhaveacompetitivestreak.”
“Ithoughtyoumight,”Mimicomments.“I’llmessageyouthedetails,butit’sBrockwellParkaroundlunchtime.”
“Brockwell—isthattheonenearBrixton?”
Shenods.“Wheredoyoulive?”
“FinsburyPark.”
“LiterallytheotherendofLondon.Bitofapainforyou,then,”Mimiremarkswithasympatheticlook.“Although,it’sstraightdowntheVictoriaLine,whichisniceandspeedy.”
“I’llbethere,thanksfortheinvite,”heassuresher.
“Sopleasedyoucanmakeit!Andfeelfreetobakesomethingfortheoccasion.Thatcakewasincredible.”Shepauses,adding,“Ohandyou’reverywelcometobringyourotherhalf,too…ifyouhaveone?”
Heblushes,shakinghishead.“Justmeatthemoment.”
“Ohgood,”shesays,brightening.“Ididn’twanttoberude,butitwouldhaveruinedtheevennumbersoftheteamsifyou’dbroughtaplus-one,tobehonest.”
“Mimi,”Isaycalmly,asRyansitsdownnexttomeandstartstypingaway,“wouldyoumindaccompanyingmetothebathroom?”
“Sure,”shesays,droppinghernapkininthepaperbasketnexttoherdesk.“Let’sgo.”
Oncewe’reinthesafehavenofthetoilets,Iroundonher.
“Whydidyouinvitehimtoyourparty?”Idemand.
Sheputsherhandsonherhips.“Harper.Whyareyousoagainstthisguy?Iknowthereareafewthingsyoudon’tseeeyetoeyeonintheoffice,butI’vegottoknowhimabitandIwanttogivehimachance.He’sobviouslyaguardedperson,andIthinkhisbakingishiswayofmakinganeffortwiththeteam.It’squitesweet.”
“Sweet?Ha!”
“Look,mypartyisagoodwaytochattohimoutsideoftheoffice—anicerelaxed,informalsettingwhereyouwon’tneedtosquabbleoverwho’sinchargeofwhat,”shesays,leaningagainstthesinks.“Ifyougavehimachance,youmightlikehim.”
“Idoubtit.”
Shehesitates.“Youknowhetalkstoyoumorethanhetalkstoanyoneelseintheoffice.”
“That’sbecauseheargueswithmeallthetime.”
“True,”sheacknowledges,“buthealsoseemsdifferentaroundyou.Whenyou’reintheconversation,he’slessreserved.Youbringhimoutofhisshell.”
“Mimi,whatareyoutalkingabout?HimdisagreeingwitheverythingIsayisnotcomingoutofhisshell!”
“I’mjustsayingthataroundeveryoneelsehehasabitofawallup,butheseemsalotmoreateasearoundyou.Likeheforgetstobeinhisownheadallthetime.SometimesIcatchhimlookingatyou.And,Idon’tknow,there’ssomethingaboutthewayhe…”
“What?”Ifeelmycheeksgrowinghotasshescrutinizesmyreaction.“Mimi,pleasedonotmakeupridiculousscenariosinyourhead.RyanandIhavenothingincommon,andtheonlyreasonhemayseemtotalktomemoreisbecausewebothcoverfeaturesinthemagazine.”
“Ifyousayso,”shesighs.“Justpromisemeyou’llplayniceatmyparty.I’mthebirthdaygirl,soyoucan’tsayno.”
Irollmyeyes.“Fine.”
“Thankyou,anddon’tworry,”shesayswithagrin,“I’llmakesureyou’reonoppositeteams.”CHAPTEREIGHT
ThesunisshiningonthedayofMimi’sbirthdayparty.
It’saneasywalkfrommyflattothepark,soIhaveallmorningtogetready,whichI’mgratefulforbecauseIhavenoideawhattowear.
Andit’snotbecauseRyan’sgoing.
Okay,fine.It’sbecauseRyan’sgoing
It’snotthatIwanttolookniceforhim.It’smorethatIneedtofeelconfident,andit’salsoveryimportantIlooklikeawinner.BecausethereisnowayinhellthatIamlettingRyanJansson’steambeatmine.Iwouldn’tbeabletostandthatstupidlittlesmileofhisthathesavesforwhenhegetsoneuponme.
Theotherdayintheoffice,theartteamputuptwopotentialcoverdesignsonthewallandaskedforourthoughtsbecauseCosmocouldn’tdecidewhichwasmorestriking.
“Theorange,”Isaidinstantly,tappingtheprintoutwithmyfinger.“It’sboldandeye-catching.Plus,itlooksreallygoodwiththewhiteandpinkcoverlines.”
“Theblue,”Ryancountered,strokinghischinandnoddingtotheotherone.“It’ssofter,warmer.Moreinviting.”
Iglaredathim.
“Mimi,whatdoyouthink?”Iasked,liftingmychinassheexaminedthetwo.
“Ithink—”shepaused,hereyesdartingbetweenthetwocoversandthenanxiouslybetweenmeandRyan“—theblue.Itworksbetter.Sorry,”sheaddedformybenefit.
ThesmugsmileonRyan’sface.
Itmademybloodboil.
Iswearhelookedsopleasedwithhimselffortherestoftheday.Atonepointhestartedhumming.
“I’mnotallowedtohum?”hequestionedwhenItoldhimoff.
“Peoplearetryingtoconcentrate,”Isnappedback.
“Mimiwasjusttalkingaboutthatsong,andIliterallyhummedthechorusforaboutfiveseconds.”
“Yes,well,itwasfivesecondstoolong,”Isaid,scowlingathim.“WouldyoulikeitifIcasuallystartedsingingwhileyouweretryingtowriteanimportantjournalisticpiece?”
Heglancedatmyscreen.“You’reGooglingbaldeagles.”
“And?”
“Itdoesn’tlooklikeyou’reinthemiddleofwritinganimportantjournalisticpiece.”
“I’mstilltryingtoconcentrate.”
Hefrownedinconfusion.“Whilelookingatpicturesofbaldeagles?”
“Yes!”
Heraisedhiseyebrows.Bynow,afewcolleagueshadswiveledslightlytolisten.I’venoticeditbecomingatheme—wheneverRyanandIstartbickeringoversomething,therestoftheofficebecomeseerilysilent.
“Areyoulookingatpicturesofbaldeaglesforapieceyou’rewriting?”heaskedbreezily.“Areyouinterviewing…acelebritybaldeagle?”
Mimisniggered.Iglaredather.Shequicklypretendedtofocusonherscreen.
“It’snoneofyourbusinesswhyI’mGooglingbaldeagles,”Ipointedout.
“Thenit’snoneofyourbusinessthatI’mhumming.”
“Itismybusinesswhenitaffectsme,whichyourhummingdoes.”
“YouGooglingbaldeaglesonofficetimewhenit’snotworkrelatedcouldbeaffectingme.Ifyou’rewastingtimeandfallingbehind,thenI’llbetheonetopickuptheslack.”
Ugh.
I’dbeenlisteningtoacomedypodcastonthewayintoworkthatmorningandoneofthehostshadmentionedbaldeagles,whichmademewonderiftheywereactuallybald?Icouldn’tGoogleitbecauseIwasonthetubewithnosignal,andI’djustnowrememberedtolookitup.
ButIcouldhardlyexplainthattohim,couldI?
“Youknowthat’saridiculousargument,”Ihissedathim.
“Harper,Ithinkthisisn’taboutbaldeaglesormyhumming.Ithinkyou’reannoyedthateveryoneagreedwithmyopiniononthebluecoverovertheorangecover.”
“Please!”Iguffawed.“Thisisnotaboutthat.”
“Soyoudon’tcarethatIwasright?”
“Youweren’tright.Itwasasubjectiveopinion.”Ishiftedinmyseat.“Itjustsohappensthatintheend,theartdeskandtheeditordecidedtogowiththeoneyoupersonallypreferred.”
Henodded.“So,Iwasright.”
“No.”
“Yes,”heinsisted.
“No,you…”Iexhaled,tryingtostaycalm.“Youknowwhat?Itdoesn’tmatter.”
“ThatIwasright?”
“Thatwehaddifferingopinions,”Iclarified.“AndIwastellingyoutostophummingbecauseit’sdistracting,notbecauseIwasannoyedthebluecoverwasdecidedon.”
Heshrugged.“Okay.”
“Good,then.Hummingisbanned.”
Wefellintosilenceanddidn’tspeaktoeachotherfortherestoftheday.
It’sveryclearthatIcannotletRyanwintoday,becauseifhedoes,hewilllorditovermeforever.Awinningoutfitiskeytotheoperation:itneedstobesportyenoughformetomoveinforthecompetitiveactivities,butitcan’tbegymgearbecauseit’sMimi’sbirthdayandIneedtomakeaneffort.
I’mactuallyquitegladLiamisn’there,becauseIneedtopracticallyemptymyentirewardrobeontothebedandbedroomfloortoseewhatmyoptionsare.I’msurprisedtocomeacrossclothesthatI’dforgottenIowned,includinghigh-waistedgraydenimshortsthatIhadboughtlastsummeronawhimafterwatchingaslewofTaylorSwiftmusicvideos.
IslipthoseonandthenstartrootingaroundforacleanT-shirt.OnceI’vefoundone,pulleditovermyhead,andtuckeditintomyshorts,Istartworkingoutwhattowearifitgetscoldandlandonaroll-sleevedblazerjacket.Afterputtingsomeeffortintomymakeup(buttryingtomakeitlookasthoughI’vespenthardlyanytimeatall),Iessentialaccessoryfortheoutfit.
Iteartheflatapart,gettingangrierandlessmercifulwithmybelongingsasIgo,chuckingitemsovermyshoulderoutofdrawersasIsearchforthem.
Mybedroomlookslikeit’sbeenhitbyatornado,andIgroanasIrealizeI’mgoingtobelate.AndthenIperkupwhenIrememberthatIworethosesunglassesearlierthisweek!They’reinoneofthecasesinmybag!
Islidethemupmynosehappilyandheadoutoftheflatinarush,returningonceformyphone,whichisstillinmybedroomplayingasummerdayplaylist,andasecondtimeforMimi’spresent,aprettygoldbraceletthatIleftinitsboxonthekitchencounter.
Afterstoppingbrieflyonthewaytobuyacoupleofbottles,ImakemywaythroughBrockwellPark,spottingfromamileoffthelongoutdoortablewithpink,white,andsilverballoonstiedallalongthesideandpicnicfoodplattersandbottlecoolerslaidoutonthetop.Mimipicksthesamespoteveryyearforherbirthday,rightbeneathoneofthehugeoldoaktreesinthepark,sothefoodtableissafelyintheshade.
IsmileasIstrollpasttheclustersofpeoplesittingcross-leggedincircleslaughingandchattingastheyswigfromcansofcider.Whenthesunisshining,thewholemoodofLondonislifted.
IspotRakheechattingtooneofMimi’sschoolfriends.Sheseesmeapproachingandherexpressionbrightens.
“HaveImissedyou!”Isay,givingherakissonthecheek.“Pleasetellmeyouhateyournewmagazineandyou’regoingtocomecrawlingbacktous.”
“I’mafraidnot.”Shelaughs.“I’msortoflovingthenewjob.ButI’mgladtoseethatnothinghaschangedandyou’restillrockinguplatetoeverything.”
“Blamethatonmysunglasses.Icouldn’tfindthemanywhere.”
“Letmeguess,theywereinyourbagthewholetime?”
“Yousee?ThisiswhyIneedyoutocomebacktoNarrativeandlookafterme!”
Shechuckles.“HowisitworkingwithRyan?”
“Don’taskheropiniononRyan,”Mimibuttsin,appearingnexttomeandgivingmeahug.“She’lltellyouhowmuchshedoesn’twanttospeakabouthimbeforespeakingabouthimalot.”
“Oi!”Inudgeherintheribs.“Ican’tgetmadatyoubecauseit’syourbirthday.Everythinglooksamazing,ofcourse.Thefoodlooksdelicious.Isitallhomemade?MaybeIshouldhavebakedsomething.”
“Averysweetthought,butweallknowyouandbakingdon’tmix,Harper.Besides,everythingyouseewasprovidedbymydearfriendMarks&Spencer,”Mimitellsus,hitchingupherwhitehigh-waistedtrousersthatshe’swearingwithabrightorangetop.
Iwouldn’tdreamofwearingwhitetrouserstoadayattheparkwhereIknowI’llbeplayinggamesandloungingaroundonthegrass,butofcourseMimiwouldn’tblinkbeforethrowingthemon.She’sthekindofpersonwhoalwayslooksneatasapin—likeshe’sjustarrivedfromsittingfrontrowofVictoriaBeckham’slatestshow,butshe’sreadytokickoffhershoesandplayrounders.
“Whendothegamesstart?”Rakheeasks.
“Soon,”Mimipromises.“Youtwoareonthesameteam.I’montheotherteam,butdon’tworry,I’mnotexpectingyoutoletmewinjustbecauseI’mthebirthdaygirl.I’llbeatyoufairandsquare.”
“Oh,herewego,”Isaywithagrin.“Therivalrybeginsnow,doesit?”
“Nevertooearlytorilethespiritswithabitofhealthycompetition,”Mimideclares.Sheglancesovermyshoulderandsmiles.“Speakingofcompetition,Ryanishere.”
Ilookroundandseehimsaunteringover.
“Remembertoplaynice,Harper,”Mimisayssternly.
“Youwerejusttalkingabouthealthycompetition.”
“Healthybeingtheoptimumword,”sheinsists.“Everythinghastobeaboveboard.Idon’twanttohavetobreakyoutwoupafteryouattackeachotherwithbats.”
“Ifthatscenariodidhappen,Iwouldsowin.Youcantellhehasaweakswing.”
“Hey,”Ryansaysasheapproaches,carryingabagthatclinksloudly.“Happybirthday,Mimi.Iwasn’tsurewhatdrinksyou’dlike,soIbroughtaselection.”Inhisotherhand,heholdsoutaTupperware.“AndImadesomemillionaire’sshortbread.IthinkIrememberyousayingyoulikedit.”
“Iloveit!Thankyousomuch,that’ssolovelyofyou.”ShegratefullytakestheTupperwareandpeersinside.“Theselookamazing.”
“Ihopetheytastegood.”
“Knowingyourbakingtalent,I’msurethey’llbedelicious.”
“Oh,Ibroughtsomeice,too.Ithoughtthatmightbehelpful,”hesays,pullingoutabagoficecubes.“Doyouhaveacoolerboxoranything?”
“Ihavethree!”Mimicriesexcitedly,whileRakheeandIhideoursmilesathowhappysheistoshowoffherorganizationalskills.“Nooneeverrememberstobringice.I’mimpressed.”
“It’snicetoseeyouagain,”Rakheebegins,offeringhimawaveasMimitottersoffwiththebagofice.“Mimi’sbeentellingmeaboutyourbaking—you’vedefinitelyone-uppedmebybringingthatangletothejob.”
Heblushes.“Ibribepeopletolikemethroughcake.”
Rakheechuckles.“So,howareyoufindingtheoffice?Everyonekeepingyouonyourtoes?”
“Somemorethanothers,”heremarks,hiseyesflickingtome.
“I’msureyou’rewellabletorisetothechallenge,”shecomments,givingmeaslysmileasIpretendtoignoretheconversation.
“Whataboutyou?”heasksher.“How’syournewrole?”
AsRakheefillshiminonSleek,ItakeinRyan’sappearance.Helooksannoyinglygood,wearingbluejeansandawhiteT-shirtunderneathanunbuttonedkhakishirtwiththesleevesrolledup.HereallysuitsthoseRay-Bans,too.HisheadanglestowardmeslightlyasRakheeistalking,asthoughhecantellI’mstudyinghim,andIquicklydropmyeyestotheground.
RakheeexcusesherselfwhensheiswavedoverbysomeofourNarrativecolleagueswhohaven’thadthechancetosayhelloyet.Iglancearound,searchingforsomeoneelsetospeaktosoI’mnotstuckmakingawkwardsmalltalkwithRyan,whenhecracksopenacanofbeer,makingmejump.
“Feelingonedgetoday,Harper?”heasks,takingasipofhisdrink.“Perhapsyou’renervousaboutthecompetitivegames.”
“Please.Icouldnotbemorereadytotakeyoudown.”
“Howdoyouknowwe’renotonthesameteam?”
“BecauseMimitoldme.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.“Ah,youwereaskingaboutme,then.”
“What?No!”Iimmediatelyfeelmycheeksflush.
“Youmusthavebeen,forMimitoinformyouthatwewereonoppositeteams.”
“Don’tflatteryourself.Shementioneditinpassing.”
Henodstotheroundersbatandballlyingonthegrassnearthetable.“Youanygood?”
“Atrounders?Yes,verygood.”
“Really?”
“Yousoundsurprised.Foryourinformation,Iamverygoodatsportswithballs.”
Helooksdelighted.“Excuseme?”
“Oh,don’tmakeitdirty,”Iscold.“YouknowwhatImeant.Netball,tennis,rounders.Iwasn’tonefortherunningtrackatschool,butteamsportsIexcelledat.MyPEteachertoldmeIhaveexcellenthand-eyecoordination.”
“Asimpressiveacomplimentasthatis,youdorealizeyouwereatschoolquitealongtimeago,”hepointsout.
“Hand-eyecoordinationdoesn’tdisappear.It’salifelongskill.”
“That’strue.Incaseyou’reinterested,Iamalsoverygoodatsportswithballs.”
“Goodforyou.”
“Neverenjoyedsprintingorlong-distancerunning.Seemed…pointless.”
Inod.“I’llruntocatchaballortowinapointafterhittingit,butIwon’tsprintfornoreason.”
“Exactly.Ineedtobedistractedfromtherunningpart.”Hepauses.“DidIevertellyouaboutthecatchImadethatwasreportedinthepaper?”
Isnort.“Sure,okay.”
“No,I’mbeingserious,”heinsists.“WewereplayingacricketmatchagainstarivalschoolonthislocalgreenandIwasafielder,reallyfarout,notreallypayingattention.Thebatterthwackstheballrightupintheairanditsoaredinmydirection.IranasfastasIcould,caughttheball,andthensplosh!Fellbackwardintothelake.”
Ilaugh.“No,youdidn’t.”
“IswearIdid,”hesays,grinning.“Irosefromthewater,clutchingtheballinmyhand.Everyonewentwild.ItwasthebestcatchIevermade.”
“Youreallyfellbackwardintothelake?”
“Nowordofalie,itwasthepeakofmycareer.”
“Yourextensivecricketcareer?”
“Thepeakofmycareerperiod.There’snowayIcantopthatmoment.NotevenifIwonaPulitzer.Thephotoofmeinthelakeholdingtheballmadethefrontpageofthelocalpaper.Guesswhatthecaptionwas?”
“Givemeamoment,”Isay,concentrating.“Somethinglike‘Quitethecatch’?”
“Ifonlythey’dbeensocreative.Butno,”helaughs,“thecaptionread:Localboy,Ronan,goesforadipduringcricketmatch.”
“Ronan!”
“Theygotmynamewrongandtheydidn’tevenmentionhowgoodthecatchwas!TheymadeitseemasthoughIwasgoingforacasualswimduringagame.”
“Hey,atleastyouwereinthepaper.That’sprettycool.”
“It’sstillframedonmyparents’mantelpiece.”
“GuessI’lltrynottohittheballinyourdirectiontoday,then.”
“Likewise,sinceyou’resogoodatsportswithballs,”heremarks,smilingintohisbeer.
Catchinghiseye,Ican’thelpbutgiggle.
ThenIrememberI’mnotsupposedtoenjoyhiscompanyandquicklylookaway.
“Allright,everyone!”Mimicriesout,clappingherhandsandgettingourattention.“Theannualgamesareabouttobegin.Anyonewhohasbroughtajumper,throwitthiswaysowecanusethemtomarkthepostsoftherounderspitch.”
Ryanturnstome.“Letthebestteamwin.”
“Oh,wewill,”Iassurehim.
Hesmiles,tinylittlecrinklesformingaroundthecornersofhismouth,hisstrikingeyesfixedonmeintently.It’sadifferentsmiletothesmug,superioroneI’vegrownsousedtooverthepastfewweeks.It’swarmandsincereandinviting.
Hewandersoffand,whileMimiyellsinstructionsatthoseholdingupjumpers,Rakheesidlesupnexttome.
“DidIjustwitnessyouandRyanlaughing?”sheaskscuriously.
“No,”Isaydefensively,suddenlyfeelingflustered.“Iwaslaughingathim.”
“Maybehe’snotasbadasyouthink.”
“You’rewrong.”Ifrown,watchinghisbackashewalksawayanddesperatelytryingtofightoffmemoriespromptedbyhissmile.“He’sexactlyasbadasIthink.”
AUGUST2012
Duringourinternship,itbecomesobviousthatRyanandIareverydifferentpeoplewhoworkincompletelydifferentways.Everythingwedoseemstobeatoddswiththeotherone—eventhecoffeerun.IknowthejournalistspreferthatRyangetstheircoffeeordercorrect(IshouldreallynoteitdownbeforeIleave),butIalsoknowthattheyprefermedeliveringit,becausewehaveagoodchat,whereasRyansimplyhandsitoverinnervoussilence.
Atourdesks,wehaveverylittletotalkaboutunlesswe’remockingeachother.HelikestoteasemeaboutmyobsessionwithrealityTVshows,butthejoke’sonhimbecauseCeliaisahugeMadeinChelseafan,soweendupbondingoverthat,andIcanseehimgivingusjealousglanceswheneversheperchesonmydeskandwechatawayhappily.IhavetoadmitthatIgetabitenviouswhenRyanpurposefullyleaveswhateverdullwarbookhe’sreadingoutonhisdesksothatwhenoneoftheseniorreporterscomesovertoaskustodosomephotocopying,shejustsohappenstoseeitandaskshimhisthoughts.
Ryanisn’tnaturallyateaseinconversation,butwhenyougethimonsomethinghe’sinterestedin—liketheauthorBenMacintyreandhisbookabouttheD-Dayspies—hesuddenlyopensup.Untilherealizesthathe’sbeentalkingandthenquicklyfallssilentagain,hisforeheadfurrowing,asthoughembarrassedtohavegottencarriedaway.Ifhewasn’tsuchanasshole,I’dthinkitwasendearing.
Asthedaysgobywebothcatchontothefactthatit’seasierifwesplitthejobsequallybetweenus,ratherthanattempttoworkonatasktogether,andweworkoutwhichtasksmightbebettersuitedfortheother,passingthemonifnecessary.Andwedohaveourmomentsofcease-fireand,even,courtesy.Ryanisanenthusiasticbakerandsharessomeofhisdeliciouscreationswithme.Iintroducehimtoputtinghoneyinhistea,andsometimes,ifoneofusisfeelinginagenerousmood,wemightgosofarastomakehoneyteaforeachotherintheafternoons.
ButthingsgosouthveryquicklywhenafewweeksinCeliaconfirmsthatherjobisupforgrabs—she’sgivinghernoticeandtakingafeaturesassistantjobatFlair,awomen’sglossymagazine.ShesaysifRyanandIwouldliketoapply,oneofuswouldhaveastrongchanceofgettingit,sincewe’relearningtheropesalready.
Andjustlikethat,it’swar.
RyanandIgointooverdrivetoimpresstheteamandoutdotheotherone.Wesquabbleoverwhogetstodostupideverydaytasksandracetoproduceresearchnotes,eachtryingtoensureourbulletpointsarethoroughbutfirstonthedeskofthereporterwhorequestedthem.Alowpointisononeoftheseoccasionswhenwe’rebothwaitingbytheprinter,eachhopingwepressedPrintfirst,andthenwerealizetheinkcartridgeneedsreplacing—wealmostbreakthemachine,arguingoverhowbesttoputthecartridgeinandcausingasceneasothersnoticeusyellingateachotheraboutbeingtooslowordoingitwrong
Andthen,justwhenIthinkIcan’tstandhim,somethinghappensthatmakesmequestionthatcompletely.
ItbeginswhenCeliacomesoverlateoneafternoontoannouncetheexcitingnewsthatshewouldlikeustoworkonapiecetogetherforthepaper.
“Wait,areyouserious?”Iask,sittingupstraight.“Asin,itwillbepublished?”
“You’llgetyourfirstbylineandeverything,”shesays,laughingatbothourelatedexpressions.“It’sprettycoolthefirsttimeyouseeyournameinprint,Ihavetoadmit.”
“What’sthepiece?”Iaskeagerly.
“It’saround-up,sonottootaxing:‘TheBestPicnicSpotsinLondon.’Adorable,right?Myidea,”shesaysproudly.“ButIdon’thavetimetowriteit,soIthoughtyoucouldtakeiton.Asit’sasummerpiece,itneedstobepublishedprettysoon,soweneeditbyendofplayMonday.Iknowit’sThursday,soit’satightdeadline,butgoodexperience.Choosefiveorsixplacesandwriteaboutfiftywordsoneach.Andyoumaynotlikethis,butIreallywantyoutoworkonittogether.Asin,nosplittingitdownthemiddle,otherwisethewritingstylewillbedifferentorrepetitiveanditwon’twork.Gotit?”
“Noproblem,”Isaywithafixedsmile.
“Excellent,”Ryanmumbles,hisvoicestrained.
Sheshakesherheadatus.“Jesus.Whatisitwithyoutwo?Anyway,goodluck.”
Straightoffthebat,we’reatloggerheads.Ryanthinksweshouldresearchpicnicspotsonline—I’moftheopinionthatweshouldmakethetimetoactuallygototheseplacesandthendecide.
“HowarewegoingtovisitalltheplacesinLondonwecanhaveapicnic?”heargues.
“Wedon’thavetogotoallofthem,thatwouldberidiculous.Justfamousones,”Iexplain.
“Andtheonlywaywe’llfindoutthefamousonesistoresearchonline.”
“Fine,we’lldothat.”
Henods.“Great.”
“Thenthisweekend,we’llgovisitthem,”Iaddsmugly.
Hesighs.
“Ryan,”Ibegincalmly,“don’tyouwanttobehonestwithyourreaders?HowaretheysupposedtotrustthatthesearethebestpicnicspotsinLondonifthewritershaven’tevenvisitedthemselves?”
“Isupposeyou’reright,”hegrumbles.
“Iusuallyam,andthesooneryourealizethat,thebetter.Sowe’llcompilealistofspotstomorrowandthenareyoufreeSaturday?”
“Unfortunately.”
“We’llhaveanadventure,”Iassurehim,adding,“Don’tworry,we’llbringwine.”
“Ithinkthat’sanecessity,”hesays,hismouthtwitchingintoasmile.
Oncewe’vegotasatisfactorylistofideas,wespendSaturdaytraipsingroundLondontoseewhichonesmakeourtopsix.Itsoundslikeachore,butit’sanicedayandit’ssurprisinglyfun,largelybecauseRyanseemsmuchmorerelaxedoutsideoftheoffice.Webotharrivewithbackpacksfilledwithwineandsnacks,andconsequentlyenduphavingminipicnicsateachspot,sittingonPrimroseHillorinthemiddleofHollandParkdiscussingtheadvantagesanddisadvantagesofeachviewpoint.
Bythetimewereachourfinaldestination—GreenwichPark—I’mfeelingverytipsy.It’sfairlybusy,butasthere’sonlytwoofus,wemanagetosqueezeintoagoodspotinthemiddleofthehill,rightatthetop.Pouringsomemorewine,weforgettoreviewthemeritsoftheparkandinsteadstartdiscussingwhywewantedtobecomejournalistsandwhatourambitionsareforthefuture.Hetellsmehewantstowriteabooksomeday.
“Whatabout?”Iask.
“Idon’tknow,somethingimportant,”heanswersvaguely.“MaybeI’llwriteaninvestigativereportintosomekindofawfulinjusticeandblowitwideopen,soIbringaboutrealchange,andthenIcanturnthatintoabook.That’swhyIwantedtobeajournalistinthefirstplace.”
“Togetabookdealoffthebackofanarticle?”
Helaughs.“No,togivepeopleavoicewhomightnothaveone.”
ItellhimIthinkthat’sverynobleandthatIwanttobeajournalistsimplybecauseIliketellingpeople’sstories.Hesayshethinksthat’snoble,too.
Wesomehowenduptalkingaboutfamilyandhetellsmeabouthisparents,hisSwedishheritage,andhisonetruelove,Cracker,hisparents’Irishsetter.HeasksmeaboutmyfamilyandItiptoeroundthesubject,butregalehimwithacoupleoffunnystoriesfromuniversity,likehowIauditionedforthepantomimeandlandedtheroleofanonspeakingduck.
HeroarswithlaughterandIthinkhowniceitistoseehimreallyletloose,andhowIwishhelaughedlikethatmoreoften.HecatchesmestaringathimandIblush,lookingaway.
Rememberingwhywe’rehereinthefirstplace,IgestureattheviewanddeclarethistobemyfavoritepicnicspotinLondon.
“Nah,”hesays,shakinghishead,“IpreferBatterseaPark.”
“Butyoucanseethewholecityfromhere!”
Hesmilesatmyenthusiasm.“Yeah,butIlikepicnickingbyalakeorsomething.”
“Oh,Isee,”Isay,rollingmyeyesandputtingonaposhvoice.“Ryanenjoysawaterfeature,don’tyouknow.”
“Nothingwrongwithagoodwaterfeature.”
Itakeasipofwine,chewingontheedgeofthecup.
“Didyougettheemaillastnightabout…theapplication?”heaskscarefully.
“Yeah.Igotaninterview.You?”
Henods.“Yep.It’sonFridaythetwenty-seventhofAugust.”
“Same.Prettyharshthatit’stheweekbeforeweleave.”
“Probablyagoodthing.Lessawkwardnessifwedon’tgetit,”hereasons.
“That’strue.”
“Whattimeisyours?”heasks.
“FourP.M.”
“Mine’satthree.”
“Youcangivemetips.”
Hesnortsinresponse,instantlyirritatingme.
“Iwasobviouslyjoking,”Igrumbleintomywine.“Iappreciateyouwouldneverinamillionyearshelpmeout.”
Hestarts.“That’snotwhatIwaslaughingat!”
“Yeah,sure.”
“I’mbeinghonest.”Hefrowns,shufflingclosertomeandgivingmeanudgeonthearmwithhiselbow,soI’mforcedtolookdirectlyintohisearnesteyes.“ThereasonIlaughedattheideaofgivingyoutipsisbecauseit’sobviousyoudon’tneedany.”
“Oh,please,”Isigh,puttingmycupdownonthegrass,whereittopplesover.“Iknowtodayhasbeenallright,butyoudon’tneedtopretendtobenicetome.”
“I’mnotpretending,Imeanit,Harper,”heinsists.“You’resogoodatchattingtoanyone;itcomessonaturallytoyoutoputpeopleatease.IwishIcouldbelikethat.”
Iblinkathim.“Areyoubeingserious?”
“Yes,”hesayswithouthesitation.“IcanworkashardasIlike,butIdon’thaveyour—”hewaveshishandupanddownatme“—likability.”
Ishift,thrownbythecompliment.“Oh.Uh…thanks.”
Henods.
“Okay,fine,IsupposeIneedtosaysomethingniceaboutyounow,”Iblurtout.
Thatmakeshimchuckle,hisshouldersrelaxing.
“You’remuchmorewell-readthanIam,”Iadmitreluctantly.“Youknowallthisstuffabouttheworldoffthetopofyourhead.”
“Idon’tthinkIknowanymorethanyoudo.”
“Well,maybenotaboutwho’sdatingwho—asubjectyoureallyneedtobrushupon,bytheway—butyouhaveabettergrasponeconomicsandhistoryandpolitics.Stufflikethat.”
“Eloquentlyput.”
“Iamawriter.”
Hesmileswarmly,andmystomachflips.We’resocloseinproximitythatitmakesmybreathcatchinmythroat.Andthewayhe’slookingatmesuddenlyshifts—themomenthasbecomechargedunderhisintensegaze.Instinctively,Iliftmychin,invitinghimtomakethemove.HeleanscloserandIcansmellthewineonhisbreath.
“Heads!”
Wespringbackfromeachotheratsomeone’sshout,afootballhurtlingoverourheads,missingusbyinchesandbouncingjustinfrontofourfeet.Acoupleofboysstumbleafterit,apologizingtousastheygo.
Flustered,IglanceatRyan,wholooksasbewilderedasIfeelbywhatthehelljusthappened.
“Weshould…uh…getback,”Isay,runningahandthroughmyhair.
“Yeah,it’sgettinglate.”
Wegatherourcupsandscrambletoourfeet,brushinggrassoffourclothesbeforemakingourwaybacktowardthestation,myheadswirlingwithconfusionandexcitement.Ifindmyselfhopingthatonourwayhomehe’llsuggestgoingforanotherdrinksomewhereormaybetrykissingmeagain.Butheonlygivesmeanawkwardgoodbyeashegetsoffthetubeathisstop.
Thenextday,Iwakeupwithahangoverandanunwelcomeboutofanxiety.
IalmostkissedRyanJansson.WhatwasIthinking?CHAPTERNINE
Mimi’steamisuptobatfirst,soourteamgathersinahuddletodiscussfieldingtacticswhileMimifinishessettingoutthejumperstomarkthepitch.
“Harper,youokaytobowlagainthisyear?”Katyasuggests,aftershe’sfinishedexplainingtoanewyogafriendofMimi’s,whohailsfromNewYork,thatroundersisessentiallythesameasbaseballexceptwithasmallbatandthere’snosuchthingasstrikes—yougetoneshottohittheballandthenyouhavetorun.
“Aslongasnooneelsewantstogiveitago,”Ireply,glancingroundthecircleaseveryoneshakestheirheads,refusingtheresponsibility.
KatyaisonsecondbasewhileRakhee,whomentionsshehasprettygoodthrowingskills,iselectedasadeepfielder.Theothersonourteamdecideamongthemselveswho’stakingtheotherpositions,andthenweallputourhandsinthemiddleand,onKatya’sinstruction,cryoutinchorus,“WINNERS!”
Asourhuddledispersesandtheotherteambeginstolineupatthebattingjumper,Ihuntdownthetennisballthatweuseinsteadofaroundersone—sincetheparkisalwaysfairlybusy,asofterballisdeemedmoreappropriateshouldastrayonebesentcareeninginthedirectionofanobliviousfamilyenjoyingapicnicnearby.
IdoafewpracticethrowswiththebackstopbeforeMimistepsuptobatfirst
“Ready,birthdaygirl?”Iaskwithagrin.
“Bornready,”shereplies,holdingupthebat.
Thegamebegins,Mimiscoringhalfarounderonherfirsthit.IalwaysforgethowfunroundersisuntilI’mplayingitinaLondonparkonasunnyday.Thecompetitivespiritisrunninghigh,thebattersyellinginstructionsateachotheraboutwhentoruntothenextpost,whilecheeringeachotheronafteragreathit.Thefieldingteamisjustasenthusiastic,theirshoutingandscreaminggatheringinterestfrompassersbywholookinourdirectionandsmile.
Bythetimeit’sRyan’sturntobat,there’sbeenarealmixofabilityonhisteamandnoonehasmanagedtoscoreafullrounderontheirown.Mimiclapshimonthebackashebendsdowntopickupthebatfromwherethelastteammatedroppeditastheyrantothefirstpost.
“You’vegotthis,Ryan,”shesays.“Don’tletHarperbaityouandputyouoffyourgame.”
“Hey!”Icryout,tossingthetennisballfromhandtohand.“YoureallythinkI’dstoopsolowastobaitsomeonerightbeforetheybat?”
“Iwouldn’tputanythingpastyou,HarperJenkins,”Ryandeclaresashestrollstowardthebattingjumper.
Flickingmyhairbackbehindmyshoulder,Iwaitforhimtopositionhimselfandthen,withfullconcentration,Ibowltheball.There’saloudcrackasthebatmakesforcefulcontact,sendingtheballsoaringoverhead,wayoutbeyondthirdbase.Droppingthebattoaneruptionofcheersfromhisteam,Ryanstartssprinting.
“Comeon,Rakhee!”Ishoutencouraginglyassheracestowardthetennisballandthen,findingit,throwsitwithallhermightbacktowardusasRyanclearssecondandheadstothird.Katyajumpsintotheairtocatchtheball,beforespinningandlobbingittoourteammateonfourthbase,butRyanhasalreadysweptpastintothearmsofhisteam,whocongratulatehimecstatically.
“Damnit,”Imutterundermybreath,catchingthetennisballasit’sthrownbacktomeforthenextbatter.Iwasreallyhopinghewouldn’tbegoodatthis.
“Youlotweresocockywithyour‘winners’chant!”Mimiannounces,pickingupthebatanddoingavictorydanceonthespot.“Butwe’regoingtobedifficulttobeat!Ourpointsaretickingupandnooneisout.”
“Yet,”Katyayellsfrombehindme.
TearingmyeyesfromRyan,whoisstillreceivinghigh-fivesfromhisteammates,IpreparetobowltoMimi.ShehitsitstraightupintheairandIrunforward,catchingitasitfallsrightintomyoutstretchedhands.
“Noooooo!”Mimicries,buryingherheadinherhands,asitbecomesmyteam’sturntocheer.
Katyarunsovertoliftmeupincelebration,beforeplonkingmedownandsayingtoMimi,“Youtemptedfate,babe!Rookieerror!”
Asthegamecontinues,theirteamgraduallybeginstodepleteuntilRyanisthelastmanstanding.
“Okayeveryone,”Isay,turningtoaddressthefielders.“Whateverhappens,wecan’tlethimgetallthewayround.Ifhegetsarounder,hecankeepbatting,butifwestophimfromreachingthatfourthpost,thenhisteamisout.Lookalert,people!”
“Let’sdothis!”Katyashouts,clappingherhandsaboveherhead.
Acceptingwordsofencouragementfromhisteam,whoarestandingaroundthetable,drinkingandcrunchingoncrisps,Ryanacknowledgesthatit’sgettingseriousandpeelsoffhisover-shirttowolfwhistles.InhisT-shirt,herollshisarmsbackandforth.
Itrynottobedistractedbyhismuscledarms,nowonshow,ashepicksupthebatandtossesitintheairsoitspins,likeadrummershowingoffwithadrumstick.Ittakesalotofself-controlnottostareathisbicepwhenitflexesashecatchesthegripofthebat.
Hisblueeyesflashatme.
“Readywhenyouare,Harper,”hesays,ahintofasmileappearing.
Swallowingthelumpinmythroat,Itakeastepforwardandbowlaterribleballthatgoesrightoverhishead.
“Noball!”Mimicallsout.
Asthebackstopchucksitbacktome,IcatchRyantiltinghisheadatmecuriously.
“Somethingputyouoffyourgame,Harper?”
“Iwasmerelyluringyouintoafalsesenseofsecurity.”
“Trynottobuckleunderthepressure,”headvises.
Inarrowmyeyesathim.“I’mnotthelastmanstanding.”
Hegrins,gettingintopositionagain.Thistime,Ipushanythoughtsabouthissexyarmsoutofmyheadandfocus.It’saperfectbowl,butit’salsoaverygoodbat.Herunsasfastashecantothescreamsofhisteam,whileIshoutmyselfhoarseyellingatRakheetothrowitbackasquicklyaspossible,mywholeteamnowcongregatingaroundthethirdandfourthbases,allofusonhandtostophim.
Justasheroundsthethird,theballisneatlycaughtbyoneofMimi’sschoolfriends,whotapsitonthefourth-basejumperandRyanisdeclaredout.
Ourteamnowgetsreadytobat,knowinghowmanypointsweneedtoscoretowin.Mimidecidestobowl,whileRyanendsupinthespacebetweenthirdandfourthbase,manningbothofthem,nodoubthavingregaledhisteamwiththestoryofhisfamouspondcatch.
Myteamgetsofftoarockystart,butsoonwe’reintotheswingofthingsandscoringsomerounders.Myfirstgoatbattingisasuccess,andIhititfarenoughtomakeitthewholewayroundandscore,whichpromptsRyantoshouttohisfellowfieldersto“getback”whenit’smyturnagain,somethingthatgivesmeahugethrillofsatisfaction.
AsIrejoinmyteam’squeueaftermysecondturnbatting,myphonebuzzesinmybackpocketandIreachforit,expectingittobeLiam,whomIhaven’theardfromtoday.Iknowhe’sworking,soIcan’tbeannoyed,butitwouldhavebeenniceforhimtomessagethismorningtosayhewassorryhecouldn’tmakeit.
Checkingthescreen,Iseeit’snotamessagebutashowbiznotification.
IT’SOVER!PregnantstarIsabellaBlossomsplitswithfilmdirectorboyfriendthedayaftertearfulpublicfightinHydePark!
JudgingfromthehorriblewaythatElijahbehavedduringthosefewminutesIwasinhiscompanyduringthepressjunket,Iimagineshe’sbetteroffwithouthim,butIstillfeelawaveofsadnessforIsabella.Sheseemedlikeareallydecentperson,andshemusthavefoundsomecomfortinknowingshehadapartnerathersidewhilegoingthroughpregnancyandforwhenthebabyarrives.
Ignoringthecheersandshoutsfrommyteamassomeonelegsitroundtherounderspitch,IbegintypingoutamessagetoRachael,fromthepressjunket,sayingI’veseenthestoryandifthere’sanytruthtoit,IhopeIsabellaisokay.
Herreplycomesbackmomentslater:
She’snotgreat,tobehonest.It’sallveryoverwhelmingforherandthinkshefeelsquitealone.I’llletherknowthatyoumessaged,she’llappreciateitxx
Ifrownreadingthemessage,myheartsinking.
“Harper!”Katyasays,nudgingmyarm.“You’reup!”
I’dbeensoengrossedinthenews,Ihadn’trealizeditwasmyturntobatagain.
“Comeon,Harper,justonerounderandwe’vebeatthem!”Katyainformsme.
“Oh!Uh…sorry,Iwasdistracted.Hangon,doesthismeanthewholeofthegamerestsonmyshoulders?”
Shenodssolemnly.“It’salldowntoyou,myfriend.”
Toaroundofapplausefrommyteam,Imakemywaytothejumpercrumpledonthegroundmarkingthebattingspot.IcatchRyan’seyeasIpreparemyself.
“NottoolongagoIwasinyourposition,Harper,”hesays.“Youthinkyouhavewhatittakestomakeitallthewayround?”
“Youcertainlydidn’tmakethegradeasfarasIcanremember.”
Heflashesmeagrin.“Youneedtheroundertowin.Nothalfarounder,afullone.”
“Yes,thankyou,Ryan,forexplainingthatreallycomplicatedpointsystemtome.”
“Iwasemphasizingfordramaticeffect,notexplaining.”
“Ifyoutwostopbickering,thenwecanactuallyplay,”Mimisaysbossily,herhandsonherhips.“Ready,Harper?”
IscowlatRyanashewinksatme,beforeturningmyfocustoMimiandliftingmybat.
“Ready.”
Astheballistossedinmydirection,Iswingwithallmymight.There’saloudthwackasitcollideswiththebat,beforeitsoarsthroughtheair.
“Run,Harper!Run!”Katyashoutsatthetopofherlungs
Droppingthebat,Ibeginsprinting,theeruptionofnoisefrombothteamsroaringinmyearsasIkeepgoingroundfirst,thensecondbase.TheballissentflyingbackoverheadasImakeittothirdandiscaughtbyRyanasInearthefourthbase.
Bothofuslaunchourselvesatthefinalbaseatthesametime,skiddingacrossthegrassandcollidingaswelandonthefourthjumper,meontheflatofmybackandheonhisfront,theballclutchedinhishand.
Bothteamsstartcheeringandclapping,untilKatyastopsandsays,“Wait,whyareyoucelebrating?”toMimi,whoreplies,“Hello!Wewon!”
“No,wewon,”Katyaretorts.
“No,”Mimisays,givingherastrangelook.“Wewon!”
“Harpergottherounder!”
“Ryangotherout!”
“She’sin!”
“She’sout!”
Asthetwoteamslaunchintoanargumentoverwhathappened,IpushmyselfuponmyelbowstolookatRyan,whosefaceislevelwithmyknees.
“Youokay?”heasks.
“IthinkI’vebruisedmybum,”Iadmit.“You?”
“I’mgoingtohaveafewgrassstains,”hesays,gettingtohisfeet.
Heholdsouthishandtohelpmeup,andItakeit.Hishandiswarmasitclaspsmine,hisgripstrongandfirm.Istumblealittleashepullsmeup,steadyingmyselfbygrabbinghisforearms.He’ssoclose,itmakesmealittlelight-headed.
“Allright?”hesays.Hisvoiceissuddenlysofter.
“Yeah.Thanks.”Idropmyhands,steppingbackfromhimandcollectingmyself.“Sorryyoulost,butgoodgame.”
Heblinksatme.“Excuseme?Youlost.”
“Areyoujoking?”Ilookhimupanddown.“Myfeethitthejumperbeforeyoudid!”
“No,”hesaysslowly,“Igotyouout.”
“Ican’tbelieveyou’redoingthis!”
Hefrowns.“Doingwhat?Tellingthetruth?”
“You’relyingjustsoyoucanwin!”Isayaccusingly.
“I’mnottheliarhere,Harper.YouknowaswellasIdothatIgottothejumperfirst.”
“Iwasin!”Iinsist.
“Youwereout!”
Iturntoappealtoeveryoneelse,whohavecometogatheraroundthebirthdaygirl.“What’sthefinalverdict?”
KatyathrowsherarmaroundMimi.“Howaboutwecallitadraw?”
“That’sabitboring,”sheresponds.
“It’sonlythefirstroundoftheday.Therearestillafewmoregamestogetthrough,”Katyareasons.“Wecanbeatyouateverythingelseandwinoverall.”
“Youwish,”Mimisays,hereyestwinklingatherwife.“Fine,sincenoonecanimpartiallycallthatfinalpoint,we’llsayit’sadraw.”
Anyoneelsewhostillcaresnods,acceptingthejudgment,whileothersambleovertothetabletorefilltheirdrinks,energizedafterthegame.
“Um,no,itwasnotadraw,”Imaintainstubbornly,foldingmyarms.“IwasinandRyanknowsit;hejustcan’tadmitthathelosttome.”
“IwouldhappilyadmitifIdidlosefairandsquare,butIdidn’t,”hesays.“YouknowIgotyouout.Ireachedthatjumperbeforeyoudid.”
“Oh,comeoffit,Ryan!”Isighimpatiently.“Youjustcan’tacceptthatIbeatyou.”
“It’snotaboutyou,thisisateamgame,”hesays,rollinghiseyes.MimiandKatyasharealookbeforemutuallyagreeingtoleaveustoit,wanderingawaytojoineveryoneelseroundthetable.“Yourteamdidn’tgetthatfinalrounderbecauseIgotyouout.”
“Youknow,losingdoesnotmakeyoualoser.Butlyingdoes.”
Hedoesn’tlookimpressed.“Spoutinginspirationalquotesatmewon’tmakemegiveinandpretendthatyouwon.Youneedtostopthinkingaboutthispersonally.”
“HowamIthinkingaboutthispersonally,Ryan?”
“MaybebecauseI’mtheonewhogotyouout,you’rerefusingtoacceptit,”hesaysandmyfaceflusheswithheat.
“I’mrefusingbecauseitdidn’thappen,”Iaffirm.“God,you’reannoying.Youreallythinkthat—”
“Wait,Harper—”
“No,don’tinterrupt.I’llhaveyouknowthatIamaveryfairandreasonableperson,andthereisnowaythatjustbecauseit’syouwhohappenedtobethepersontoattempttogetmeout—”
“Harper,ifyou—”
“It’sgenuinelyinsultingthatyouthinkIwouldlieaboutwinningsimplytogetoneuponyoupersonally.Iknowwedon’t—”
“Harper…cake!”hecriesinexasperation.
Iblinkathim.
“They’vebroughtthecakeoutandthey’resinging‘HappyBirthday,’”heexplains,pointingoveratthetable.“I’dbeveryhappytostandherelisteningtoyourantafterward,butweshouldprobablygojoinin.”
“Oh.Right.Yeah.”
Wehurryovertotherestofthegroup,whoaresingingwhileKatyaholdsupachocolatecakewithonelitcandleonthetop.RyanandImanagetojoininonthelastlineanddutifullyclapwhenMimiblowsoutthecandle.
“Timetosetupforbeerpong!”Katyaannounces.“Thetournamentwillresumeintenminutes.”
IstandawkwardlynexttoRyan,wonderingifit’sappropriatetogobacktoourdisagreement.HeknowsdeepdownthatI’mthevictorhere,andthat’sreallyallthatmatters.He’sjustliedtosaveface,whereasIcanholdmyheaduphighand—
“Whydoyoulooksopleasedwithyourself?”heasksmesuddenly.
Iglanceuptoseehe’swatchingmeintentlywithabemusedexpression.
“Iwasthinkingthatthere’snopointinarguingovertheroundersgame.”
“Iagree.Wouldyoulikeadrink?”
“Sorry?”
“Ibroughtsomeginalong.Iwasgoingtomakemyselfaginandtonic.Wouldyoulikeone?”
“Oh.Yes,please.Thanks.”
Ifollowhimashegrabsacoupleofcupsandfillsthemwithicefromoneofthecoolerboxesbeforelookingroundforthebottleofgin.
“Wasitbadnews?”heasks,locatingtheginandsplashingitintothecups.
“What?”
“Themessageyougotonyourphoneduringthegame.You’vegotanopen-bookface,”hesays,openingabottleoftonicandlettingitfizz.“Inoticedyoulookedupset.Idon’tmeantobenosy,Ijusthopeitwasn’tanythingtoobad,whateveritwas.”
“It’sokay,you’renotbeingnosy.Imean,itwasbadnews.Notforme,forsomeoneelse.ButifItellyou,you’lllaughatme.”
Heglancesup,intrigued.“Tryme.”
Iexhale.“Fine.IgotanotificationthatanactorIinterviewedrecentlybrokeupwithherboyfriend.Sheseemedlikeareallynicepersonandnowshe’sgoingtohavetodealwithallthesereporterspryingintoherbusiness,tryingtogetaphotoofhercryingorsomething.Andshe’shavingababyanyminute,soyouknow,she’sgotalotonherplate,and…Idon’tknow.Itmademesad.”
Hepassesmemydrink.
“Goon,then,”Isay,takingthecupfromhim.“You’rethinkingI’mtooinvestedincelebritieswhoIdon’tevenknow.YouandCosmoboththinkmyjobisridiculous.”
Herecoils,linesformingonhisforehead.“No,Idon’tthinkthat.”
“Thecelebrityworldissillyinyourloftyopinion,I’msure.”
“I’mnotgoingtopretendIamasinvestedinthe…uh…celebrityworld,asyouputit.ButI’dnevermakefunofyouforcaringaboutsomeonewhoishurting.Itsaysalotaboutwhatkindofapersonyouare.”
I’msotakenabackbythecompliment,I’mlostforwords.
“What?Whyareyoulookingatmelikethat?”heasks,confused.
“Iwasexpectingyoutosaysomethingsnarky.”
“Aboutyoubeingupsetbecausesomeoneisgoingthroughatoughtime?”
“Well…yeah.”
Hetakesasipofhisdrink.“So,that’swhatyouthinkofme.”
“Whatyouthinkofmyjob,”Iremindhim.
“Notbeingparticularlyinterestedinsomethingisn’tthesameaslookingdownonit.Besides,youhaven’taskedmyopiniononyourjob,sohowwouldyouknow?”
“Allright,then.Ryan,whatdoyouthinkaboutthecelebrityangleofthemagazine?”
Hesmilesintohisdrink.“Fluffynonsense.”
“Iknewit!”
“I’mjoking!”Helaughs,shakinghishead.“Okay,youwantmyhonestopinion?”
Isigh.“Thisshouldbeinteresting.”
“Ithink…Ithinkyouwriteinsightful,cleverfeaturesaboutpeoplewholeadextraordinarylives,andeventhoughtheymightbesofamousthateveryonethinkstheyknoweverythingaboutthem,somehowyoumanagetoshowtheminalightthatmakesitseemasthoughwedidn’treallyknowthematall—untilwereadyourpiece.Youreallycare,andbecauseofthat,yourreaderscare.It’sbrilliantandpowerfuljournalism.Oh,andyou’requitefunnysometimes,too,”headdsasanafterthought.
Onceagain,inamatterofminutes,I’mstunnedintosilencebyRyanJansson.
“Youlookconfused,”heobservesafterawhileofmestandingtherestaringathimwithmymouthopen.
“I…whatdoyoumeanby‘quitefunny’?”
Herollshiseyes.“Isayallofthosethingsaboutyourwritingtalentsandthat’sthecommentyoupickupon.”
“I’mgenuinelyshockedyou’vereadanyofmyarticles.”
“Haveyoureadanyofmine?”
“Afew,”Iadmitcoyly.
Heseemsimpressed.“Whatdoyouthink?”
“Areyoustillplanningonwritingabook?”
Helookssurprisedatmyquestion.“Itoldyouaboutthat?”
“Alongtimeago.”
Henods.“Right.Yes,likealotofjournalists,I’mworkingonmyfirstnovel.”
“You’rewritingfiction.Huh.”Ipause,beforeadmitting,“Ialwaysthoughtyou’dwritenonfiction,somekindofbigexposéorsomething.”
Hesighsatmyassumption.“BecauseI’msoseriousandboring.”
“No,”Isay.“Youtoldmeyouwantedtouseyourjournalismtodosomethinggood.Togivepeopleavoicewhomightnothaveone.”
Hegivesthesmallesthintofasmile,asthoughI’vejustprovedhimrightaboutsomething.
“Whyareyoulookingsosmug?”Iask,frowningathim.
Helaughs.“I’mnot.I…nevermind.”
Rakheeappearsatmyside.“Areyoutwostillarguingaboutwhowon?Thebeerpongisabouttostart,soyoucanforgetabouttheroundersandtrytobeateachotheratthisinstead.”
“Excellent,”Ryandeclares,unhookinghissunglassesfromthefrontofhisshirtandputtingthemon.“There’llbenomistakingthewinnerinthisone.Yourteamhasnochance.”
HewandersofftotheendofthetablewhereMimiisbusyliningupthecupsforthegame,whileIfollowRakheetojoinmyteamattheotherend,whoarediscussingtacticssuchaswhetherit’sworthbouncingthePing-Pongballfirstorifit’seasierjusttoaimforacleanthrowintothecups.
Ipretendtolisten,butreallyI’mdistractedbytwothingsthatRyansaidtometodaythat,whenIthinkbackonhowhesaidthem,makemefeelstrangelygiddy.
One,hecalledmyjournalismbrilliantandpowerful.
Andtwo,hedeclaredhewouldbeveryhappytostandandlistentomerantaftersingingMimiahappybirthday.
Which,whenyouthinkaboutit,isreallyaverysweetthingtosay.CHAPTERTEN
Uh-oh.I’veonlygotoneshoe.
Ican’tbelieveIleftthehousewithoutcheckingIhadbothshoesinmybag.Whoonlypacksoneshoe?!IknewIhadthecharityballtonightandthatI’dbegoingstraightfromwork,sowhydidn’tIgetmyselforganizedlastnight?!
NowI’minthetoiletatworkwearingthegorgeousnewemerald-greenplunge-neckdressIboughtespeciallyfortheoccasion,withmyhairfabulouslyblow-dried,forwhichIsteppedoutatlunch,promptingastinkeyeandsarcasticcommentaboutworkethicfromCosmo,andallmymakeupcarefullyreapplied…andonlyoneshoe.
Idon’thavetimetogohomebeforetheevent,soI’mgoingtohavetohopethatsomeoneintheofficehasasparepairofheelslyingaroundthatjustsohappentobemysize.Shovingmyloneheelbackinmybag,Iexitthecubicle,checkmyappearance,and,satisfiedexceptforthefootwearsituation,makemywaythroughtheopen-planofficetothemagazinecorner.
“Wow!”Mimigasps,swivelinginherofficechairtotakeinmynewdressasIapproachher.“Youlookhot.Thatdress!”Shelowershervoice.“Yourboobslookamazing.”
“It’sapush-upbra.”
“Liamisaluckyguy.Ishecomingherefirst?”
“No,IsaidI’dmeethimthere.Hey,doyouhaveanyshoesIcanborrow?”
“Sorry?”
“Ionlybroughtoneshoetoweartonight.”
Shelaughs.“Ofcourseyoudid.”
“Anychanceyouhaveapairofheelslurkinginoneofthesedrawers?”
“Iactuallydo.”
Ibrighten.“Really?”
“Yes,foremergencies.”
“Youhaveapairofheelsinyourdeskdrawerforemergencies?”Itease.
Shesighs.“Whatwouldyoucallyourcurrentpredicament,Harper?”
Ihesitatebeforeglumlyadmitting,“Anemergency.”
“Unfortunately,Ican’thelpyou,becauseI’mprettysureyou’reasizefiveandI’masizefour.”
“Ohyeah,Iforgotyouhadfreakishlysmallfeet.”
“Daintyfeet,”shecorrects.“Maybesomeoneelseherewillhaveasparepair.”
Iturntoaddresstherestoftheteam.“DoesanyonehaveapairofheelsIcouldborrow?Preferablyinasizefivesotheyfit?”
Mycolleaguesglanceupfromtheirscreensandshaketheirheadsapologetically.
“Fashionteam,pleasesaywehavesomeinthecupboardyettobereturnedfromashoot?”
“Afraidnot,”comesthereply.“Wepackagedandreturnedeverythingyesterday.”
CosmoemergesfromhisofficestudyingatravellayoutandslowlymakeshiswayovertoMimi’sdeskwearingaconfusedexpression.
“Mimi,talkmethroughwhyanyonewouldwanttogoona…literarytrailforanentireweek?Isthisappealingtoourreaders?”heasks.
“Absolutely,”sherepliesconfidently.“Ithinkalotofpeoplewouldbeinterestedinseeingsightsandcountryhousesthatarelinkedtocelebratedauthors.”
“Hmm,”hesays,unconvinced,passingthelayoutbacktoher.“Allright,keepitin,butmakeitmuchshorterandlet’sgivethatleadingstorytosomethingabitsexier.Apictureofaniceturquoiseseaorsomething,ratherthanallthesefields.”
“Ithoughtitmightbenicetomixitupabit,though.Thepictureonthispagealwaysseemstobeasparklingbluesea.Don’tyouthinkitwouldbeagoodideatotrysomethingdifferent?”shesayshopefully.
“Ithinkreadersdreamofescapingtoabeach,nottheEnglishcountrysidethatalotofthemliveinalready,”heinsists.“Let’skeeptotheocean,please.”
Shemutters,“Sure,”throughgrittedteeth.
Hesuddenlynoticesme.
“Ohyes,it’sthatcancerresearchcharityballthisevening,”hesays,hiseyesrunningdownmyoutfitandlandingonmybarefeet.“You’renotwearinganyshoes.”
“Notrightnow,no.”
“Iassumeyouintendto.”
“Eventually,yes.Butunfortunately,I’veonlygottheoneonme.”
“Onewhat?”
“Shoe.”
“Youonlyhaveoneshoe.”Heletsoutalong,wearysigh.“Whydoesthatnotsurpriseme,Harper?”
“Icanonlyapologizeforbeingsopredictable.Youdon’thaveanyspareheelslurkinginyouroffice,doyou,Cosmo?”
Helooksappalled.“Ibegyourpardon.”
“Worthashot.Ifyou—”
IstopmidsentenceonseeingRyanapproachingourcorner.He’swearingafull-ontuxandisbusyfiddlingwithoneofthecuffsofhisshirt,sortinghiscufflinks,Ithink,beforebringinghiseyesuptomeetmine.Hiseyebrowsliftinsurprisebeforethecornerofhismouthtwitchesintoasmile.
“Nicedress,”hecomments.
“Nicetux,”Ireply.“Iforgotyouweregoingtonight.”
“Wouldn’tmissit.”
Isnort.“Youhateblacktie.”
“Icanputupwithitforonenight.”
“Greattohaveyouattendingtonight,Jansson,”Cosmodeclares,pattinghimonthearm.“Thecrowdwillbearealmixofwho’swho.Luckywehavesomeonelikeyoutheretobagussomegoodinterviews,eh?Ibestbeoff,Ihaveadinnerreservation.”
Iglareashebustlesaway,whileRyanhasthedecencytolookembarrassed.Whenhe’sgone,Ryanputshishandsinhispocketsandlooksatmeexpectantly.
“Ifyouwanttoputyourshoeson,Harper,wecanshareataxi.”
“Ican’tputmyshoeson.Ionlyhaveone.”
Heblinksatme.“What?”
“YoucangoonaheadandI’llseeyouthere,”Isigh,pullingmytrainersbackoutfrommybag.“Ineedtostopbyashoeshoponthewaytobuysomeheels.”
“Okay,well,ifyou’requick,Imightaswellcomewithyou,”Ryanoffers,checkinghiswatch.“Wehavetime,andit’snotsofunshowingupalonetothesethings.I’lljustgrabmythingsfrommydesk.”
Hestrollsaway,andasIsliponmytrainers,InoticeMimigivingmeafunnylook.
“What?”Iask.
“Howdoyouknowhedoesn’tlikeblacktieevents?”shewhispers.
“Idon’tknow.”Ishrug,feelingtheheatriseinmycheeks.“HemusthavementioneditwhenIwastalkingaboutgoingtothisthingtonight.”
Shedoesn’tlookconvinced,eyeingmesuspiciously.
“Harper,”Ryansaysfromtheendofourstationofdesks,havingretrievedhiswalletandphone.“Ready?”
IgnoringMimi’spryingeyes,Iwalkover,feelingridiculousinthisdresswithmytrainerson.Wemakeourwaythroughtheopen-planofficetowardtheexit,andhewaitsuntilwe’reoutofearshotofeveryonetosayheactuallythinksIcanpulloffthetrainerswiththeblack-tiedresslook.
“Ifyou’retryingtopersuademenottobotherwiththeshoeshopping,I’mafraiditwon’twork,”Iinformhimhaughtily.“It’sessentialthatwestopforsomeappropriateshoesontheway.Don’tworry,though.Iwon’ttakelong.IcanbeverydecisivewhenIwanttobe.”
“Idon’tdoubtit.AndIwasn’ttryingtoputyouoffshoeshopping,”heinsists.“Iwasgenuinelytryingtopayyouacompliment.”
“ThatIcanpullofftrainers?”
“Thatyoulookgoodinthatdress.”
Lookingbemusedbymystunnedreaction,hepullsthedooropenandgesturesoutside.
“Shallwe?”
Bythetimewearriveatthecharityball,Ryanisinaslightlyworsemoodthanwhenweleft,havinghadtoputupwithmetryingonalmosteverypairofheelsintheshopandthendecidingtogowiththefirstpairIselected.I’minamuchbettermoodmyself,becauseInowhavetwoshoes,whichisgreat,andRyansaidmylegslookgoodintheseshoes.Imean,Isortofforcedhimtosayit,butitstillcounts.
“LikeItoldyouthefirsttimeyoutriedthatpaironhalfanhourago,yes,yourlegslookgood,”hehadgroaned,liftinghisheadfromhishands.
“Youaresuchadramaqueen,Ryan;itwasnothalfanhourago.Itwas,like,twentyminutesago.Andareyousuretheselookgood?You’renotjustsayingthat?”Ichecked,pointingmytoesathim.“Becauseifyouthinkachunkierheelmightbemoreflattering—”
“Harper,you’rekillingme,”hesaid,scrunchinguphiseyes,beforeopeningthemandlettingoutalongsigh.“Okay,ifmyhonestopinionwillhelpmovethisalongfaster,thenhereyougo:thoseshoeslooksexy.Youhavegreatlegs.Okay?Imeanit.Canwegonow?Please?”
Igrinnedathim.“I’lltakethem.Buttobesure,Imighttryon—”
“Harper!”
“I’mkidding!”Ilaughed,beforequicklypayingforthematthetill.
WhenwepulluptothegrandentranceofTheLanghamhotel,thereistheusualhordeofpaparazziwaitingforanycelebritiestomakeanappearance.Theylookatuswithinterestaswestepoutofthecar,butthenquicklygobacktochattingamongthemselves.
“Areyougoingtowaitforyourboyfriend?”Ryanasksaswepassthroughthemagnificentcolumnsofthehotelentranceandheadthroughthedoorintoreception.
“He’salreadyinside,”Ireply.“Hemessagedmeearlier.”
Ryannods,gesturingformetogofirstintotheballroomafterwe’vehadournamescheckedoffthelist.Theroomlooksspectacular,twinklingpinkandwhitelightsallovertheblackdrapeshangingacrosstheceilingandstunningdisplaysofpinkroses.Theeventisraisingmoneyforbreastcancerresearch,andtherearestandsdottedaroundtheroom,filledwithitemsthatarebeingsoldoffatauction.Awaiterholdingatrayofchampagneglassesapproachesaswestepintotheroom,andwebothtakeonegratefully.
“Alotofglamorouspeoplehere,”Ryanobserves,scanningtheseaofpeopleminglingasajazzbandplaysattheotherendofthespace.
“Don’ttellmeyou’reintimidatedbythissituation,”Isay,raisingmyeyebrows.“TheguywhohascoveredpoliticalscandalsandgivenpeptalkstoOlympianswithstagefrightrightbeforetheirrecord-breakingrace.”
Helookspleased.“Youreadthatpiece.”
“Everyonereadthatpiece,”Ipointout.“Itgotpickedupbyeverynationalpaper.I’msurprisedyoudidn’tgetabookdealoutofit.”
“Actually,Iwasofferedadealoffthebackofit,”hesays,“butIturneditdown.”
Ilookathiminsurprise.“Seriously?”
Heshrugs.“I’mnotsurehowI’dwriteanentirebookaboutafive-minuteconversation.Also,I’mnotevenasportsjournalist,soI’dhavenothinginterestingtosaytothataudience—Iwasreallyjustintherightplaceattherighttime.Iwasactuallycoveringforsomeone.Pureluck.”
“Butyouobviouslysaidtherightthingstohim.Thatwasn’tluck,wasit?Thatwas…you.”
Hegivesmeastrangelook.“Ithinkthatmightbethenicestthingyou’veeversaidtome.”
“Don’tgetusedtoit.I’mstillannoyedthatyou’rehere.”
“HowcanyousaythatwhenI’vejustwillinglyaccompaniedyouthroughatorturousshoppingexcursion?”
Irollmyeyes.“I’mannoyedthatCosmoimpliedyourpresenceherewasmoreimportantthanmine.Hecompletelyignoredme!Whatdoyouthinkhe’supto?”
Hetakesasipofhischampagne.“Youthinkhe’suptosomething?”
“Youdon’t?”
“Notreally.Ithinkhecanbecluelessandignorant,especiallywhenitcomestoyourpeopleskills.Buthewasrightthatit’shandyhavingusbothheretodosomenetworking,”hesays,gesturingtotheroom.“Notthatwe’vespokentooneotherpersonyet.”
“Ijustthinkit’soffensivethathedoesn’ttrustmetogetthestories,despitemecontinuingtolandthem.Heonlytrustsyou,hisbestpal.”
“PleasestopimplyingthatCosmoandIareinanywayfriends,”hepleads,wincing.“Wereallyarenot.Hehassimilarjournalisticintereststomine,sothat’sprobablywhyhe’sabitwarmertomyideas.”
“That,andyouhaveapenis,whichhelps,”Imutter,justashetakesanotherdrink.Hespluttersatmycomment,soIgivehimapatonthebackashecoughsandcollectshimself.
“So,canyouseeyourboyfriendanywhere?”Ryanasks,hiseyesstillwatering.
Icranemyneckoverthecrowdtocheck.“Nope,buthe’sinheresomewhere.Eagertomeethim,areyou?”
Hefrownsashetakesagulpofhisdrink.
Mystomachtwists—astrangemixofirritationthathe’sbeingdismissiveofLiamandunwelcomepleasurethathisreactioncouldbereadasatouchofjealousy.Iquicklytellmyselfnottobesoridiculous.
“Youdidn’twanttobringadate?”Iask,swirlingmyglass.
Heshakeshishead.“It’sbadenoughIhavetosuffersuchaneventforwork,letalonedragsomeinnocentbystanderalong.”
“So,noonespecialonthesceneatthemoment.”
Heraiseshiseyebrowsatme,lookingintrigued.“Areyoupryingintomyprivatelife?”
“Iwassimplymakingpoliteconversationwithacolleague,”Isayirritably,rollingmyeyes.“Butifitmakesyouuncomfortable,feelfreetochangethesubject.”
Asmall,triumphantsmilecreepsacrosshislipsthatimmediatelymakesmeincensed.
“I’mnotseeinganyonerightnow,”heinformsmebreezily.“Ihaven’treallybeenlookingforanythingserioussinceIbrokeupwithmyex-girlfriend.Weweretogetheralmostfouryears.”
“Sorrytohearthat,”Isay,keepingmytoneneutralandprofessional.“Whendidyoubreakup?”
Hepausesatthatquestion,linesformingonhisforehead.
“Justoverayearago,”hestates,keepinghiseyeslookingstraightahead.
“AroundthetimeyoustartedworkingatTheCorrespondence?”
Hetakesanotherswigofhisdrink,polishingoffhisglassbeforeheanswers.“Exactly.”
Irealizethatthislineofquestioningismakinghimuncomfortable,whichisfairenough—it’snotlikechattingaboutex-partnersisatypicallyfunconversationatanyoccasion—soI’mabouttochangethesubjectwhenIspotShamaricomingovertomewithherarmsoutstretched.
“Harper,hi!”
Wegreeteachotherwithakissoneachcheek,andthensheturnstoRyan.
“Shamari,thisisRyan,he’sournewfeatureseditor,”Iintroduce.“Ryan,Shamariisabrillianttalentagent—shewastheonewhosetuptheinterviewwithAudreyAbbot.”
“Thatwasanamazingfeature.Nicetomeetyou,”hesays,shakingherhand.
“ItwasallHarper,really.ShestalkedmeuntilIgavein,”shesayswithaslysmile.
“Stalkedisastrongword,”Iretort.
“YouusuallygetyourmorningcoffeenexttomyofficeinVauxhall,then?”sheasks.
“It’sthebestinthecity.”
Shelaughs,givingawaveofherhand.“All’swellthatendswell.Audreylovedyou,nosurprisesthere.Theinterviewwasahitandthetheatercompanyadoremeevenmorethankstotheticketsalesthatwentthroughtheroof.Nottomentionmyotherclientinthesameplayhasnowgotafantasticstarttohiscareer—hereallyisthenextbigthing,Harper.”
“Ohyeah,Irememberyoutellingmeabouthim.Thegood-lookingone.JulianFrog?”
“JulianNewt.”
“That’stheone.I’llkeepaneyeonhim.”
“Won’tweall.”Shegrins.“Talkingofgoodlooking,Ihadachatwithyourboyfriendearlier.Liam.”
“Oh,you’veseenhim!”
“Yes,he’scharming.Hetoldmeaboutthefeatureyou’redoingonhottalentagencies.Iknowwe’reestablished,butanychanceofamentionwouldbewelcomed.We’vegotlotsofexcitingthingscomingupand—”
“Hangon,”Iinterrupt,holdingupmyhand.“Hetoldyouwhat?”
“Aboutthepieceyou’rewritingontalentagencies,”sherepeats.“I’msurprisedyouhaven’talreadyapproachedmeforaquote.”
Ryanturnstome,confused.“Ididn’tknowweweredoingapieceontalentagencies.”
“We’renot.”
“You’renot?”Shamarisays.“IcouldhaveswornthatLiammentioned—”
“Itcameupasanidea,”Iexplainhurriedly.“ButIcantellyouthis:ifweweretodooneontalentagencies,youwouldofcoursebeoneofthefirstpeopleIcontacted.”
“Ishouldhopeso.Ah,”shesays,glancingtoherrightandgivingawave,“I’vejustseensomeoneIabsolutelydetestbuthavetobutteruponbehalfofaclient.Excuseme.”
Assheswansoff,IspotLiamtalkinganimatedlytoaTikTokinfluencerturnedpopstar.Helaughsatsomethingshesays,touchingherarm,andthencatchesmyeye.Iwavehimover,andinresponseheholdsuphisfingerandmouths,Oneminute.Ifrownathim,buthedoesn’tseemtonotice.
“Who’sthat?”Ryanasks,watchingtheexchange.
“That’sLiam.”
“Oh.Heseems…busy.”
“He’ssociable,”Isay,bristling.“That’showyou’resupposedtobeatparties.”
“He’sgivingherhiscard.Bitweird.”
IglareupatRyan.“Asyouweresayingamomentago,it’simportanttonetworkattheseevents.Don’tbesojudgmental,youhaven’tevenmethim.”
“Sorry,you’reright,”hesays,blushingslightly.“I’mjustsurprisedhehasn’trushedoveryetto—attheveryleast—sayhitoyouwhentheonlyreasonhe’sinvitedisbecausehe’syourplus-one.”
“Whatisyourproblem,Ryan?”Isnapdefensively,puttingmyhandonmyhip.“Doyouenjoyputtingotherpeopledown?Youliketofeelsuperior?”
“What?No!”Hescowls,recoiling.“Iwasmakinganobservation.”
“Well,don’t!”
“Fine,Iwon’t!”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
Wefallintosilence.Heshakeshishead.
“I’mgoingtomingle,”hegrumbleseventually.
“Yougodothat.”
Hedriftsintothecrowd.Iclenchmyjaw,furiousathim.Whodoeshethinkheis?Imean,yes,Iseehispoint,itwouldhavebeenniceifLiamhadcomeovertosayhellotome,buthe’sinthemiddleofanimportantconversation,anditwouldberudeofhimtobreakawayfromit,especiallyifhe’shopingtotakeheronasaclientand—
Oh,okay,he’snowintroducinghimselftoaguystandingnexttoher.AndanotherinfluencerIsortofrecognizestandingnexttohim.He’snowcompletelyturnedhisbacktomeandhaslaunchedintothatconversation.
Hedoesn’tneedtogreetmeassoonasIwalkthroughthedoor.ButIhavebeenstandingoverherewaitingforhimtofinishupforawhile.Youknowwhat,whatamIdoing?UsuallyI’dhaveworkedtheentireroombynow.RyandistractedmeandnowI’mlingeringlikealoserwaitingforLiamwhileeveryoneelseisbusychatting.
IpullmyselftogetherandleaveLiamtoit—hecanfindmelater.
Isoonbumpintoaglossy-magazineeditorIlove,beforeI’mpulledintoanotherconversationwiththetwoleadsofahitcrimedramathat’sbeenrenewedforasecondseason.Imakeanoteoftheiragents,afterpitchingtheideaofdoingajointinterview.
I’mhavingsuchagoodtime,I’veforgottenabouthowannoyedIamatLiam.AtonepointIspotRyaninconversationwitharealityTVstarrenownedforhereccentricityandnoticehelooksparticularlypainedasshetellshimtheymustgofordrinkstodiscusshernewfly-on-the-wallTVshowabouther“bonkerslife.”HenoticesmewatchingandIquicklylookawaysohedoesn’tgetanyideasaboutmerescuinghimfromthesituation.Ifhehadn’tbeensoobnoxiousearlier,Imighthaveconsideredit.
“Harper,thereyouare,”Liamsaysinmyearafewminuteslater,interruptingmyconversationwithaproducer.“I’vebeenlookingforyou.”
Iexcusemyselftotheproducerandturntohimashegivesmeakissonthecheek.
“Youdisappearedearlier,”henotes.
“Youseemedbusy,”Ireplysharply,buthedoesn’tseemtonoticemytone.
“Hasn’tthisbeenagreatnight?Ihavemetsomanypeople,definitelygotsomepotentialclients!”hesaysenthusiastically,grabbingmyhandandgivingitasqueeze.“DidIseeyouchattingwiththatactorfromDon’tGiveUpHope,orwhateverthatNetflixshowwascalled?Youcanintroduceus,right?”
“Healreadyhasanagent.”
“Yeah,butnoharminachattomakesurehe’sgottherightpersonrepresentinghim,”Liamtellsme,swigginghischampagne.“Iwon’thavethechancetomeethimtonight,butifyouchatwithhimagain,passonmydetails,yeah?”
“Whywon’tyouhaveachancetonight?”
“I’mgoingtoshootoffbecause,getthis—youknowHaloSkewed?”
Istareathimblankly.
“They’rethisfantasticup-and-comingband,”hegushes.“Iwastalkingtothemearlier,andthey’reabouttogoplayagiginSoho.They’veinvitedmetocomewatch,withpotentialformetorepresentthem!”
“ButLiam,whatabout…this?”Isay,gesturingaroundus.
“Iknow,I’msosadtoleave,becauseit’sbeensogreat,butIthinkI’vetalkedtoenoughpeopleandI’veofficiallyrunoutofbusinesscards,”hesaysgleefully,hiseyestwinkling.“Whatasuccess!Bettergetsomemoreprinted.Watchthisspace,amIright?”
“Liam,”Ibegin,tryingtoremaincalm,“haveyoubeentellingpeoplethatI’mwritingafeatureontalentagenciesandI’mincludingyouinit?”
“Imentionedittoacoupleofpeople.Goodtogetthebuzzgoing.”
Istareathimindisbelief.“ButIneversaidI’dwritethatpiece!”
Helooksconfused.“Wetalkedaboutit.”
“IsaidI’dconsiderit,butIdidn’tsayitwasadonedeal,”Iexplain,tryingtokeepmycoolbutfeelingreallyquiteirritated.“SomeonebroughtitupinfrontofRyananditwasreallyembarrassing.He’sourfeatureseditor.Itcan’tlooklikeI’mwritingfeatureswithouthisknowledge.”
Liamwrinkleshisnose.“SincewhendoyoucareaboutwhatRyanthinks?Ithoughtyoudidn’tliketheguy.Andit’snotlikehe’syourbossoranything.”
“It’snothingtodowithpersonalfeelings.It’saboutbeingprofessional.Look,youcan’tassumeI’mwritingsomethingandthengoaroundtellingpeopleaboutitjustbecauseitmakesyoulookgood,okay?”
“Gotit,”hesayscoolly,pullinghisphoneoutofhispocket.“Right,Ibettershoot.”
Heleansdowntogivemeakissonthecheek,beforehehesitatesandadds,“You’reokaygettinghome,right?BecauseIreallyshouldgotothisgig,it’sanexcellentopportunityand—”
“It’sfine,”Isnap.
“Great!”hebeams,eithertoostupidtoreadmytoneordecidingtoignoreit.“I’llcallyouinthemorning,babe.”
Asheturnsround,hebumpsintoastrikingraven-hairedwomanwearinganincredibleblackfigure-huggingdress,heavydarkeyeshadow,andbrightredlipstick.IassumesheispartofthisHaloSkewedbandhewastalkingaboutbecausehereyeslightuponseeinghimandshequicklyushershimtofollowherthroughthecrowdtowhereagroupofguysarewaitingbythedoor.MovingtothesideoftheroomwhereIhaveaclearview,Iwatchastheyclaphimonthebackandthenexittogether.
Isighheavily,snatchingadrinkfromapassingwaiter’stray,beforeRyanappearsoutofnowhere.
“Isyourboyfriendleaving?”heasks,raisinghiseyebrows.
“Yes,”Isaybreezily,asthoughI’monboardwithitall.“He’sgotameetingwithaclientnow,sohehadtogo.”
Henodsslowly.“Latemeeting.”
“They’rearockband,”Iexplainthroughgrittedteeth.
“Ah,makessense.”Hehesitates.“Iactuallymethimearlier.”
“Liam?”
“Hebargedintomychatwithaphotographer,whohemistookforoneoftheBridgertoncastmembers.Assoonasherealizedhismistake,hedisappearedagainintothenight.Ididn’tgettotalktohimmuch,butheseemslikeacatch,”henotessarcastically.
“DidyoucomeoverherejusttobehorribleaboutLiam?”Ibristle.
“No.Ijust…Idon’tunderstandwhyyou’rewithhim.”
Ilookathimindisbelief.“Ohmygod.Areyouactuallybeingserious?”
Iseesomeguestsglanceourway,andIrealizeIcan’thaveitoutwithRyanhereintheballroom.There’safireexitdoortomyrightthat’sslightlyajar,soIpushitopenanddemandthathefollowme.Westepoutintoanemptycorridorand,confirmingthere’snooneineitherdirection,Iroundonhim
“HowdareyoutalktomelikethataboutLiam?Youhavenoright!”
“Iknowit’snoneofmybusiness—”
“That’sright.Itisnoneofyourbusiness!”
“—buthedoesn’tseemlike…yourtype,”hesays,holdinguphishandsasthoughhefeelsobligedtotellmehisopinion.Asthoughit’simportant.
Hemakesmybloodboil.
“Howwouldyouevenknowwhatmytypeis?”Isnapfuriously.“Youdon’tgettohaveanopiniononwhoIdate.Youmethimforalloffiveseconds!”
“FivesecondswasallIneededtoworkoutexactlywhatkindofpersonheis,”heseethes.“Youshouldn’tbewithsomeonewhotreatsyoulikethat.”
“Youhavenoideahowhetreatsme!”
“Iknowthathedidn’tevenbothersayinghitoyoubecausehewastoobusychattingupallyourcontacts!Hebarelyacknowledgedyou.Itwasrude,”heargues.
“Liamissmartandhe’sambitious,andIrespectthat,”Itellhimproudly.
Ryansnorts.“Well,I’mgladyourespecthisambition,becauseI’mnotsurehehasmuchelsetorecommendhim.”
“Youaresooutoforder,”Icry,mywholefaceonfirewithrage.“We’renotevenfriends!WhyshouldIcareaboutyouropinion?”
“Fine!Thendon’tcareaboutmyopinion!”
“Idon’t!”
Ryantakesadeepbreathandlowershisvoice.“I’monlytryingtolookoutforyou,Harper,andthatguyis—”
“Don’tlookoutforme,Ryan,”Isnap.“Icanlookaftermyself!Liamisawonderful,thoughtfulpersonwhojusthadabadnight…”Ihearmyselffaltering.
“Oh,comeon!Youcan’treallythinkthat!”
“Don’ttellmewhattothink!”
“Forgod’ssake,Harper,”hesaysimpatiently,throwinghishandsupinexasperation,“you’resodeterminedtoarguewithmeallthetime,you’renotevenbotheringtolistentowhatI’msaying!”
“You’resayingthatLiamisusingme!”
“I’msayingthathedoesn’tdeserveyou!Noonedoes!”
Istareathim.Hiseyesboreintomine,hischestrisingupanddownwithhisheavybreathing.Westandinuttersilence,bothrefusingtobackdownanddropeyecontact.
AndIhaveasuddenoverwhelminganduncontrollableurgetokisshim.CHAPTERELEVEN
Itakeasteptowardhim.Ryan’sgazesoftensasIdo,theangerinhisexpressionfadingintosomethingelse.Somethinghopeful.
“Ryan,”Iwhisper.
“Yes?”hereplieswithouthesitating,movingcloser,hishandtwitching.
ThefiredoorfromtheballroomsuddenlyswingsopenandthetwoofusspringapartasIsabellaBlossomappears.Sheslamsthedoorshutbehindher,beforeleaningagainstitandshuttinghereyesindespair,rubbingahandincircularmotionsaroundherbump.
“Isabella,hi!”Ibegin,mycheeksstillburningfrommyinteractionwithRyan.
Sheopensoneeyetolookatme.“Oh,hey,Harper.Howareyou?”
“Good.Areyoudoingokay?Ididn’trealizeyouwerehere.”
“Yeah,well,maybeIshouldn’thavecome,”sheadmitswithaheavysigh.“Iwasdeterminedtosavefacebyshowinguptonight.Youknow,makesuretheworldknowsthatI’mnotabigmessafterthebreakupand—”
Shepauses,openingbotheyesthistimetostudyRyansuspiciously.
“Don’tworry,Icanvouchforhim,”Iassureher.“Heworkswithme.”
“Sohe’sajournalist,”shesurmisesgrumpily.
“Yeah,butanythingyousayhereiscompletelyofftherecord.He’snotinterestedinthatkindofjournalismanyway,isn’tthatright,Ryan?”Isay,tappinghisarm.
“Yes,”hesaysquickly,nodding.
“Ilikeyourdress,”Icomment,admiringthepalepinktulleskirt.
“Thanks.It’sVersace.”
“Ididn’trealizeVersacedidmaternitywear.”
Shechuckles,wipingherforehead.Icanseethatshe’ssweatingandshedoesn’tlooktoosteadyonherfeet.
“Areyouokay?”Iaskagain,watchingherwithsomeconcern.
“Yeah,fine.Sortof.Everyone’sbeingsonosyandfakeinthere.Ikepttryingtosmilemywaythroughit,butitgotabitmuch,”sheadmits,beforesuddenlygrimacingandaddinginastrainedvoice,“Also,IthinkImightbehavingcontractions.”
Ryanturnstomeinalarm.
“Y-youwhat?”Iask,myeyeswideningather.
Shecan’tanswer,insteadlettingoutan“argh!”andshuttinghereyestight.
“Isabella,ohmygod,”Isay,rushingovertoher.“You’rehavingcontractions?”
“Iknow.I’vebeenhavingthemawhilenow.Suchbadtiming.”Shewinces.“Ineedtoputapauseonthem.”
“Youcan’tputapauseoncontractions!”
“Ihaveto,Harper!”shecries,hereyesfilledwithanguish.“IneedtoshowallthosepeopleintherethatI’moverElijah!TheyallthinkI’mfallingapart.That’swhyIhadtocometonight,despitethefactmywaterbrokethismorning.IhadtoshowthemI’mfine.”
“Isabella,”Isayslowly,takingherhand,“ifyourwaterbroke,youarehavingyourbaby.Weneedtogetyoutothehospital.”
“Thebabywon’tcomeforawhileyet,don’tworry,”shesays,shakingherhead.“Itcantakehoursafterthewaterbreaksforanythingtoreallybegin.Andanyway,wecan’tgotothehospital.Notrightnow.”
“What?”
“Ifwegooutthefront,allthepaparazziwillseeandthey’llcrowdthehospital,andIdon’twantthemknowingbecauseIcan’thandlethestressofthatand…ahhhhhh!”
“Justbreathe.That’sit,you’redoinggreat.”
“IknowI’mdoinggreat,”shesays,herforeheadcreasedinpain.“That’swhyIthinkwehaveafewhoursbeforethisbabyiscoming,soIcanjustwalkrightbackintherewithmyheadheldhighandshowthemall.”
“You’vealreadyshownthemall!”Isayurgently,lookingtoRyanforhelp.
“Uh,yes,you’veshownthemthatyou’refine,”hesays,comingtostandbehindme.
Shelooksupathimhopefully.“Really?Theydon’tthinkI’mabighorriblemessafterthebreakup?”
“Oh,well,”hesaysnervously,glancingatmeasIgivehimencouragingeyes.“I…um…overheardsomeonesayingthatthisbreakupwasclearlythebestthingtohappentoyoubecauseyoulooksogood.”
Shesmilesinrelief.
“Okay,sonowweneedtogetyoutothehospital,”IsayinassoothingatoneasIcanmuster.“HowcanIcontactyourdriver?”
“Ineedmyphone.Ithashisnumberinthere.”
“Where’syourphone?”
“Inmybag.”
“Where’syourbag?”
Shelooksaroundherselfandthengroans.“Idon’tknow.IthinkIgaveittosomeone.”
“YourPA?Yourmanager?Thecloakroom?”
“Idon’tknow,someone!”shewhines.
“Okay,noworries,Icangoaskaround,”Iassureher.
Shegripsmyhandsotight,Isqueakinpain.“Youarenotleavingme,”shesayssternly.“Ineedyourightnow,Harper.”
“Icangolookforthebag,”Ryanoffers.
“No!Ifyougoaskingaroundaboutmybag,peoplewillgetsuspicious,”Isabellagrowlsathim.“They’llaskyouquestionsaboutwhereIamandtheneveryonewillknow!Neitherofyouisleavingme!”
“Whodidyoucomewith?”Ryanasks.“Icanatleastfindthemtocomehelp.”
“Ididn’tcomewithanyone,”shegrowls.“Icamealone.Ijustwentthroughabreakup,remember?”
“Right,that’sabsolutelyfine,we’rehere,”IsaycalmlyasRyanlookspanickedatherfiercetone.“Wecangooutthebackwayofthehotelandgetataxi.Yeah?I’msurewhoeverhasyourbagcanlookafterit.Okay,let’sgetmoving,shallwe?”
“Fine,”shesays,pushingherselfawayfromthedoorandthenpointingherfingeratbothofus.“Icannothandlepressattentionrightnow.Soifweseeanyone,actnormal.Gotit?”
Ryannods.“Gotit.”
“Gotit,”Iecho.
“Good.Now,doeitherofyouknowhowtogetoutofherethebackway?”
“That’saverygoodquestion,”Ryancomments.“Harper?”
“Actually,yesIdo.”
Thetwoofthemlookatmeinpleasantsurprise.
“How?”Isabellaasks,intrigued.
“Thankstodirectionsfromaveryhelpfulwaiter,Ioncecametotherescueofaverywell-knownchatshowhostwhoneededtosneakout.”
“Hewasescapingthepress,too?”
“Hisexwaslurkingaround,actually.Hedidn’twanttoriskbumpingintoher.Anyway”—Igestureonewaydownthecorridor—“weshouldprobablygetgoing.”
“Right.”Isabellanods,movingforward.
Unfortunately,mymemoryofthebackcorridorsofTheLanghamprovessomewhathazy,dueinparttotheseveralmojitosI’denjoyedthatevening,andwegetlostmorethanonce.Thisdoesn’tgodowntoowellwithIsabella,whosecontractionsseemtobegettingclosertogetherandmorepainful.
Atonepoint,Ryantakesherhand,chanting,“Breathe,breathe,”beforeyelpinginpainasshegripshisfingersandgoes,“Youfuckingbreathe.”
“Ithinkmythumbisbroken,”hewhisperstomeasshebumblesonaheaddownthestairs.
“Oh,poorthing,weallfeelverysorryforyou,”shecallsback,overhearinghim.“Becausethatsoundsjustaspainfulaspushingabasketballoutofyourvagina.”
“Tobefair,shehasapoint,”Itellhim,stiflingalaugh.“Butdon’tworry;wecanhaveyourhandcheckedoutatthehospital,too,ifyoulike.”
“I’mfine,”hegrumbles.
WemakeittoacorridorIrecognize,knowingthattheoutsideworldisjustafewstepsaway.Acoupleofthekitchenstafflookabitpuzzledaswepass,butassoonasIsayIneedfreshairbecauseIfeelI’mgoingtobesick,theyquicklypointtowardthecorrectdoor,noquestionsasked.
Wefinallyburstoutside.RyanandIcheckacoupleoftaxiapps,butallofthemarecomingupwithdriversunavailable.It’sabusynight,andwe’reintheheartofCentralLondon.
“Weshouldcallanambulance,”Ryansuggests.
“No!Youdon’tcallanambulancewhenyougointolabor!”Isabellabalks.“Ijustneedabloodycartogetmetothehospital.”
“Ireallythinkanambulanceisagoodidea,”heinsistsgently.
“Noambulance,”sheseethes.
“Okay,I’lltrythemainroadforablackcab,”Ryansays,hisvoicemuchhigher-pitchedthanusualasheshuddersunderherglare.“Yougoingtobeokayhereforabit?”
“Sure,takeyourtime,”Isabellareplies,“it’snotlikeI’mhavingababyoranything.”
Igivehimathumbs-upashescuttlesaway.
“Poorguy.It’snothisfault.I’mjustpissedoffatmennothavingtogothroughanyofthis.Ohgod,”shesays,tryingtosteadyherbreathingandpushingherhairoutofherface,“thisisnothowthiswassupposedtogo.”
“It’sgoingtobefine,Ipromise,”Iassureher.“We’llgetyoutothehospital.”
“No,Imean—”shethrowsherhandsupintheair“—havingababyonmyown.IthoughtElijahwouldbehere.IthoughtthatI’dhavesomeonetofaceallthiswith.Thebaby’sfatherdoesn’twantanythingtodowithme,andnowI’vemesseduparelationshipwithsomeonewhowashappytohelpraisethebabyeventhoughitwasn’this.I’mallalone.Thisbabyiscomingand…it’sjustme.”Shelooksatme,hereyesglisteningastearsthreatentospilldownhercheeks.“Itwasn’tsupposedtobelikethis.”
Shestartshavinganothercontraction,andIputmyarmaroundherasshecriesoutinpain,beforeshebeginssteadyingherbreathingagain.Iwatchherinadmiration,waitinguntilthecontractionisovertospeak.
“Isabella,youcan’tplaneverythingoutinlife.Noonecan.Nothingissupposedtobeacertainway.Itiswhatitisandwemakethebestofit.”
“Iknow,butthisbabydoesn’thaveafamily.”
“Areyoukidding?Thisbabyhasyou!”Isay,squeezingherarm.“You’retheirfamily.Trustme,thisbabydoesn’tneedanyoneelse.”
“Idon’tknowifIcandothis,”shewhimpers.
“Ofcourseyoucandothis.Iknowyoucandothis.”
Tearsstreamdownhercheeks.“I’mnotsosure.”
“Isabella,lookatme,”Idemand,staringherrightintheeye.“You’vegotthis.Allthisbabyneedsisyou,theirlovingandwonderfulmum.That’sit.Theyneedyou.So,youcandothisbecauseyouhaveto.Yes?”
Herlipquivering,shenodsslowly.“Yes.You’reright.”
“Iamright.I’malwaysright.FeelfreetomentionthatinfrontofRyanwhenhecomesback.”
Shelaughs,wipingherfacewiththebackofherhand.“Thanks,Harper.”
“Youdon’tneedtothankme.YoualreadyknewallthatbeforeIsaidit.”
“Imeanit,”shecroaks,grabbingmyhandsinhers.“Thankyou.”
Ismileather.
Shesighs.“WherethefuckisRyan?”
“He’llbehereanyminute,I’msure.”Ibitemylipandcheckmyphone.“Letmejustgivehimacall.”
“Tellhimifhe’snothereintwominuteswithataxi,I’mgoingtobreakallhisotherfingers,”shegrumbles.
“I’llpassthatrighton,”Isay,takingafewpacesawayfromherwiththephoneuptomyear.Assoonashepicksup,Ihiss,“Whereareyou?”
“I’mtryingtoflagdownataxi,”hesnaps.
“Anyluck?”
“IfI’dhadanyluck,I’dbewithyou,wouldn’tI?”
“Forgod’ssake,Ryan,theremustbeonetaxisomewhere!”
“Hangon,”hegasps.“Isthat…IthinkIsee…ayellowlight.Ayellowlight!”
“Ohgood!Getitquick!”
“I’mrunningoutintothemiddleoftheroadtomakesureitstops.”
“You’rewhat?”
“I’mintheroad!”hecries.
“Ohmygod,hailitdownwithyourhandlikeanormalperson!”
“Iwilltakenosuchrisk!Hecan’tmissme.”Hisvoicegrowsfaintasheyells,“Taxi,taxi!”andIassumehe’swavinghisarmsaround.“Harper,he’sstopped!”
“Yes!”
“I’llbewithyouinonesecond!Staywhereyouare!”
“Trustme,”Isay,glancingovermyshoulderatIsabella,whoisnowalmostbentdoubleleaningagainstthewallofthehotel.“We’renotmoving.”
AsIhangup,Isabellaraisesherhead.“Harper,Ithink…Ithinkthisbabyiscomingsoon!”shesays,lookingmuchsweatierthanbefore.
“It’sokay.Ryan’sgotthetaxi.”Igulp.“Althoughmaybewereallyshouldcallanambulance?”
“No.No,justgetmetothehospital.”
“Ipromisewewill.”
Sheexperiencesalong,painfulcontraction.Irubherbackandthenhearthebeepofthetaxipullupnexttous,Ryanswingingopenthedoorandjumpingout.
“Weneedtogetyouintothecar,”ItellherassheturnshuffingandpuffingtofaceRyan.
Heputshisarmaroundherandgentlyguideshertowardthetaxi,saying,“It’sokay,Isabella,you’redoingreallywell.Almostthere,inyougo.”
“You’rebothcomingwithme,right?”sheasksnervouslyassheclimbsin.
“Yeah,ofcourse,”Iassureher,hoppinginoppositeherassheliesacrossthebackseats.
Ryanpullsdowntheseatnexttome,slamsthedoor,and,overhisshoulder,tellsthedrivertogo,go,go
“Where?”thedriverasks.
“Thehospital!Wheredoyouthink?Ahhhhhh!”Isabellashrieks,hunchinginpain.
“IthinktheclosestisSt.Thomas’Hospital,”Ryansaysfrantically.“Let’sgo,let’sgo!”
“Shebetternothaveababyinmycab,”thedrivergrumbles,puttinghisfootdown.“Ihadsomeoneinhereonlylastnightbeingsickeverywhere.Idon’twanttohavetocleanthosefloorsagain!”
Aswesetoff,RyanandIsharefrequentlooksofpanicasIsabella’scontractionsseemtobegettingcloserandclosertogether.
“Ineedyoutocomesitoverhere,Harper,andcomfortme,”shesays,puffingoutbreathsasshecontinuestoshiftpositionsthroughoutthejourney,sometimesperchingontheedgeoftheseatthenmovingtokneelonthefloorofthetaxi,restingherforeheadandarmsontheseat.“You’regoingtobemybirthingpartner.”
“It’sanhonor,”Itellher,determinedtodoagoodjob.
Ilaunchmyselffromonesideofthetaxitotheother,offeringmyhand.Shereachesforitandgripsittight.
“I’vegotthis.I’vegotthis,”shesaysrepeatedlythroughbreaths.
“You’vegotthis,”Iecho,Ryannoddinginsolidarity.
“Pleasesaywe’renearlythere!”shesqueals,justaswecometothestopinsomeheavytrafficonWestminsterBridge,beforecryingoutatacontraction
“Almostthere!We’resoclose!”
“Ohgod,thisisbad,”shecroaks.“Idon’tknowifwe’regoingtomakeit.I’mfeelinganurgetopush.Weneedtogettothehospital!”
“We’regoingtomakeit,”Ryanassuresher,glancingbackoverhisshoulderatthelongqueueoftrafficacrossthebridge.“Anyminuteandwe’llbemovingagain.”
Therearebeepsandangryshoutsupahead,andIseethecabdriverlookatusinhisrearviewmirror,hisforeheadcreasedinpanic.Afterawhileofstandstilltraffic,ourcabdriverstartshonkingthehornconstantly,especiallywhenIsabellashrieksinpainatanothercontraction.
“Moveit!”thedriveryellsouthiswindow.“LADYHAVINGABABYHERE!”
“Harper,”Isabellasays,tighteninghergriponmyhand,beadsofsweatappearingonherforeheadasshemovesherpositionagain,“youneedtophonetheambulance.I’mfeelingtheurgetopush.”
Ifeellikeallthebreathhasbeenknockedoutofme.“Areyous-sure?”
Shenods.
“Okay,don’tworry,it’sgoingtobeallright,it’sgoingtobefine,”Isay,convincingmyselfaswellaseveryoneelseasIgrapplewithmyphoneanddial999.
“Youhavegottobekiddingme,”thedrivergroans,slamminghishandonthehorn.“Youshouldhavecalledanambulanceinthefirstplace,notacab!”
Ryanopenshismouth,butIsabellashootshimtheevilestofglares.“Ifyoudaresayanythingalongthelinesof‘Itoldyouso’…”
“Iwasn’tgoingto,Iswear,”hesays,hiseyeswidewithfear.
Iexplainthesituationtotheemergencycallhandler,asIsabellainstinctivelymovesintoasquattingposition,shouting,“Doanyofyouhaveatowel?We’regoingtoneedatowel!Thisbabyiscoming!It’snotsupposedtobecomingyet!Thisistoosoon!Thispushingpartissupposedtotakeages!Tellthem,Ryan!”
“I…uh…ifyoucanhearmeinthere,littlebaby,you’renots-supposedtocomeyet,”Ryanstammersdutifully.
“IDIDN’TMEANTELLTHEBABY!IMEANT,TELLTHEDOCTORS!”Isabellabellows.
“Right,ofcourse,”hewhispersfearfully.
“Wethinkthebabyiscomingnow,”Isayurgentlyintothephone.“Butapparentlyit’snotsupposedtobehappeningthisquickly.”
“Everybirthisdifferent.Doyouhaveacleantowel?”thecalmwomanechoesontheotherendofthephone.
Quickasaflash,Ryanwhipsoffhistuxjacketandholdsitready.
“Wehaveatuxjacket,”Irespond,helpingIsabellatobalance.
“Youneedtoaskthedrivertopulloverandputonthehazardlights,”sheinstructs.
Irepeattheinstructionandhesays,“We’reinthemiddleofstandstilltraffic!”beforeputtingonthehazardlightsandopeninghiscardoor.Iwatchoutthewindowashestartsyelling,“Isanyoneinthistrafficjamadoctor?”atthetopofhislungs.
“Ohmygod,thebabyiscoming!”Isabellashrieks.“Ryan,Icanfeelitshead!ITSHEADISCOMING!”
“I’mready,Isabella,”Ryansays,holdinghisdinnerjacketunderherlegsandlookingatherwithanencouragingsmile.Hesuddenlydoesn’tlookpanickedatall,asthoughaswitchhasgoneoffinhisbrainandheknowsheneedstostepup.“Don’tworry,wecandothis.We’rerightherewithyou.Youcandothis!Keepbreathing.You’redoingbrilliantly.”
Hereyesfixedonhis,shenods.
“Anambulanceisonitswaytoyou,”thecallerpromisesasItellhertheheadiscomingout.“Itwillbewithyouanyminute.Sheneedstopush.”
“Isabella,youneedtopush,”Iinformher.
“NOSHIT.”
“That’sit,Isabella,”Ryansaysinthissteady,calmvoicethat’ssoconvincing.He’smakingmefeelmuchbetter,too,asthoughhemightactuallyknowwhathe’sdoing.“Bigpush,youcandoit.It’sgoingtobeokay.”
IhearsirensinthedistanceasIsabellahowls,grippingmyhanduntilmyfingersnolongerhaveanyfeelingleftinthem.Ryanhaspositionedhisjacketrightunderneathher,readyforthebabytocome,sowhenthewomanonthephonetellsmetomakesurethebabywon’tfallonthefloor,Icanassureherthatwehavethatcovered.
“Morepushing,Isabella,you’redoingsobrilliantly,”Ryansays,agreatbigsmileonhisface.
“You’vegotthis,anotherpush,youcandoit,”Isay,Ryannoddingalong.
AboveIsabella’sgroans,Ihearthecabdriveryell,“It’shere!Theambulanceishere!Carsarepartingtoletthemthrough!Whydidn’tyoudothatforuswhenIwassayingwewerehavingababy,eh?Youloadofwankers!”
“Almostthere,Isabella,almostthere!”Ryansayssoothingly,andIwatchindisbeliefasafterafewmorepushesfromIsabella,hewrapshisjacketaroundababywhosecriespiercetheairandsendawaveofreliefthroughallofus.Ashepassesthebabytohertoholdonherchest,thedoorbehindswingsopenandparamedicsappear.
“It’saboy,”Ryanwhispers.
Tearsarestreamingdownallthreeofourfaces.RyanandItellIsabellathatwehavetostepouttolettheparamedicsintothecaband,asthefreshairhitsmydampcheeks,Inoticethedriverisalsocrying,beamingdownthroughthewindowatthelittlebaby.Otherdrivershavegottenoutoftheircarsandaresquintingatustoseewhat’shappening,thebluelightsoftheambulanceflashingacrosstheirfaces.
RyanandIlookateachother,bigdopeysmilesonourfaces.
“Ican’tbelievethatjusthappened.Ryan,youwere…incredible.Iwouldhugyou,butyouarecoveredinblood.”
Helaughs,lookingdownathisshirt.“Thisisgoingtobeafunstorytotellthedrycleaners.”
“Youdeliveredababy,”Iwhisperinamazement.
“Itwasateameffort.Youweresogreatwithher,Harper,shereallytrustsyou.”
Asaparamedicstepsoutofthecabtospeaktohiscolleague,Iaskhimifeverythingisokay.
“Everythingisgreat.Youdidreallywell;welldone.We’regoingtogetthembothtothehospitalnow.Wecantakeoneofyouwithusifyou’dlike?Ithinkshewantsyouthere.”
“Yougo,”Ryansays,gesturingtohisshirt.
“No,youshouldcome,too.Please,”Iplead.
Havingjustgonethroughsuchaneventtogether,Isuddenlyfeelbereftattheideaofhimleavingme.
“I’llmeetyouthere.Icanwalk,it’sreallynotfar.”
WelookonasIsabellaistransportedoutofthecabtotheambulance,andInodtowardourdriver,whoisdabbingathiseyeswithatissuethatafellowmotoristhasofferedhim.
“Weneedtotipheavilyonthisfare,”IwhispertoRyan.
“Don’tworry.I’llexpenseit.Cosmowilllovethisstory,”Ryanlaughs.“Goon,don’tletherbealoneintheambulance.”
“I’llseeyouatthehospital?”
“Promise.”
Tearingmyselfawayfromhim,Ihurrytoclimbintotheambulanceandwesetoff,meanderingthroughthetraffic.Isitattheside,tryingnottogetinthewayoftheparamedicwhilebeamingdownatIsabellaandherbaby.
“Canyoubelieveit?”shesaystome,hereyesfilledwithjoyandwonder.“Canyoubelievethatthatjusthappened?”
“No,”Ilaughastearsstartspillingdownmycheeksagain.“Iguessit’sproofofwhatwetalkedabout—whenitcomesdowntoit,youreallycan’tplaneverything.”
“That’strue,”shesays,gazingatherlittleboy,nowwrappedinapropertowel.“Iwouldn’tchangeathing.Itwasabsolutelyperfect.”
“I’llsay,”Inod.“VeryHollywood.”
Shetiltsherheadupatme.“Howso?”
“Itwasoutrageousandextraordinary,”Isay,beforeflashingheragrin.“AndyougavebirthwearingVersace.”
AUGUST2012
Aftermyinterview,IplantoheadhomebutfindRyanwaitinginreception.Hejumpsupwhenheseesme,comingoverwithanapprehensivesmileonhisface.
“Howwasit?”heasks,shovinghishandsinhispockets.
“Terrifying.Whatareyoustilldoinghere?”
“Ithoughtwecouldgoforadrink,maybe,”hesaysquickly.“It’sbeenaprettystressfulday,sowe’veearnedit.Onlyifyoudon’thaveanyplans.”
Ithasbeenaverystressfulweek,really,tryingtofocusonourusualinterntasksbutsecretlypreppingfortheinterviewsthatwerecruellyscheduledforFridayafternoon.
Theinterviewwasconductedbyoneofthesenioreditors,Martha,andCeliawasinthere,too,mostlymakingnotes,buteverynowandthenaskingalessgruelingquestionthantheonesMarthawasfiringatme.IhavenoideahowIdid,butCeliawhispered,“Welldone,”assheopenedthedoorformeattheend,andrightnowI’mjustsorelievedit’sover.IspentthelasttwoweekspracticinginterviewquestionsandstudyingTheDailyBulletin.AtleastIcanrestassuredtherewasnothingmoreIcouldhavedone.
“Adrinksoundsgreat,”Isay,andhisexpressionbrightens.
HesuggestsapubinNorthLondon,sincewe’rebothheadingthatwayhomeanyway.Wegetthetubetogether,talkingabouttheinterviewsandwhatquestionscameup,beforewebothagreeweshouldn’tdiscussitanyfurtherbecauseit’sboringworkchatandwedeserveanightoffun.
It’sbusyatthepubRyanchooses—theonlyruleIhadwasthatwedon’tgotothebarIworkat—asthere’salargegroupofsmartlydressedfriendswhomustbegoingontoafancyblack-tieevent.Wemanagetobagacoupleofchairsandasmalltableinside,whichI’mgratefulforbecauseI’vebeenwearingsmartheelsalldayfortheinterviewand,eventhoughit’slateAugust,it’sthreateningtorain.AssoonasIsitdown,IcauseRyantowrinklehisnosewithdisapprovalasIusethesleeveofmyjackettogivethetableaquickwipe.
“What?”Isigh.“It’sfine.”
“I’llgetsomenapkinsfromthebar.Whitewine?”
“Yes,please.”
Hisphonestartsvibratingwithacall,andhetellsmehe’llbebackinamoment,answeringandduckingbackoutsidethepub.Ishrugoffmyjacket,leavingitonthetablebeforeheadingtothebarmyselfandorderingthedrinks,justincasehiscalltakesawhile.Whenhereappears,hemakesabeelineforthebar,butIcallhimoverandgesturetothebottlealreadywaitinginawinechillerwithtwoglasses.
“Sorryaboutthat,”hesays,takingaseatonthestoolnexttome.
“I’mmakingthemalarge,Ihopethat’sokay,”Isay,pouringthewineintoourglasses.
“Finebyme.”Hischeeksareflushed.“It’sbeenaday.”
“Youcansaythatagain.Ican’tbelievetheypushedourpicnicpieceback,too.Doyouthinkthey’llstillpublishit?”
“Ireckonso.Cheers.”
“Cheers,”Irespondglumly,clinkingmyglassagainsthis.
“Whydoyoulooksoupset?”heasks,concerned.
“Oh,IjustreallywanttohaveanarticlepublishedsoIcanshowmyparents.”
Hesmiles.“They’dbereallyproud,huh?”
“Ha!”Isay,throwinghimoffguard.“It’scomplicated,”Ihurrytoexplain.“Anyway,sorry,wesaidwewouldn’ttalkaboutwork,didn’twe?Let’sfocusonsomethingelse.”
There’saneruptionofguffawsandlaughterfromthefancilycladgroupontheothersideofthepub.Inodtowardthem.
“Wheredoyouthinkthey’regoing?”Iaskhim.“Maybewecouldmakefriendsandtrytowrangleaninvite.”
“No,thanks,”Ryansays,glancingatthem.“I’mnotafanofblacktie.”
“What?Iloveit!It’ssofundressingupforposhevents!”
“They’retheworstkindofevents,”Ryangroans.“Youhavetostandthereinanuncomfortablesuitandmakesmalltalkandworstofall,dance.”
“Allofthatsoundsgreat!”Ilaugh.
“Yeah,forpeoplelikeyou,whofindthosesituationseasy.Forme,they’reexcruciating,”headmitsshyly,shrugging.“Ifeelsooutofplace,likeIdon’tbelongandeveryoneknowsit.”
Hashelookedinthemirror?Doeshenotknowhowbeautifulheis?Ifhewantedto,he’dhavepeoplefallingoverthemselvestodancewithhim.Bethelooksgoodinatux,too.
Ihaven’tdrunkenoughwinetosayanyofthattohim,though.
“I’dratherjustgotothepubwithafriend,”heconcludes.
“Likerightnow?”
Hesmiles.“Likerightnow.”
“I’mgladyou’rehappy,then.Butfortherecord,black-tieeventswouldbeabsolutelyfineifyouthrewyourselfintothem.It’saboutattitude.You’vegottoforgetwhateveryoneelsethinks,believeyoubelong,andshimmyabout.”
Helaughs,shakinghishead.“Iwillneverhavethatconfidence.Youhavethisamazingauraaboutyou,Harper,likeyoucanjustwalkintoanyroomandbecompletelycomfortable.Youcantalktoanyone.”
“Socanyou.”
“Webothknowthat’snottrue,”hesays,givingmeapointedlook.“I’veneverbeen…braveinthatway.I’msoself-conscious.”
“Everyonefeelsthatway.”
Hesmilesatme.“Mybrotherusedtosaythattotrytomakemefeelbetter,too.”
“Youhaveabrother?”
Henods,asadnessshroudinghiseyesasheturnsthestemofhiswineglassroundandround.“Yeah.Adam.Hediedwhenwewereyounger.Hehadleukemia.”
Myheartsinks.“Ryan,I’msosorry.”
“It’sokay,it’sbeenawhilenow.Imean,Imisshimallthetime,but…youknow.”Heshrugs.“Hewasalwaystheconfidentone.”
“Yousaythatlikeeveryfamilyhasone.”
Hechuckles.“Minecertainlydoes.Youhaveanysiblings?”
“Yes.Ihaveanoldersister,Juliet.Wedon’treallyspeak.She’salawyerhereinthecity,butIneverseeher.Itrytobeoutofthehousewhenshecomeshometovisit.Sorry,thatsoundsungratefulwhenyou’velostyourbrother,”Iaddguiltily.
“Don’tbesilly.Familiesarecomplicated.”Hehesitates.“Igetthefeelingyou’renotclosetoyourparents,either.”
Iletoutalongsigh.“Anunderstatement.”
Hegrimaces.“I’msorry.Thatcan’tbeeasy.”
“Itiswhatitis.Youclosetoyours?”
“Yeah.Althoughtheyweren’tthrilledaboutmemovingtoLondon.TheyliveinManchester.”
“Whodoyoulivewithhere,then?”
“Ihaveaflatmate,afriendfromuni.”Hepauses.“He’sactuallyawaythisweekend,though,soI’vegottheplacetomyself.”
Theatmospherefeelsinstantlycharged.Ihavenoideaifit’sjustme.Helikelysaidthatasathrow-awaycomment;ofcoursehejustsaidthatasathrowawaycomment,Harper,youthinkhewassayingitsothatyouwouldknowyoucouldgobacktohistonight,noproblem?!Don’tbestupid.
Although.
It’skindofaweirdthrowawaycomment,isn’tit?Ididn’taskifhishousematewasthereornot.Hevoluntarilyofferedthatinformation.Wasitahint?Butwhywouldhedothat?Wedon’tgeton!Wecanbarelyhaveaconversationwithoutitbecomingafull-onargument!Ithinkhe’sanirritatingknow-it-all!HethinksI’mavapid,reality-TV-show-loving,hideousmessofaperson!There’snowayhewantstosleepwithme!
Although.
Hedidhangaroundforagesafterhisinterviewtowaitformetoinvitemeforadrink.WedidhavethatmomentinGreenwich.Andwe’recurrentlyhavingaverypleasantconversationwithoutanyarguingwhatsoever,soit’snotlikewe’realwaysateachother’sthroats.Maybewedogetonafterall.Maybethere’ssomekindof…sparkhere.
Ifeeloverlyexcitedandterrifyinglynervousatthesametime.
Myhandsaregettingallsweaty.
YouknowwhatIblame?
Hiseyes.They’reearnestandgentleandpiercing,allatthesametime.Howdoeshegetawaywiththem?Theydon’tbelongtosomeonelikehim,theybelongtoClaudiaSchiffer!Hehasnorighttohavesucheyes!
“Areyouokay?”Ryanaskssuddenly.“Youlook…vexed.”
“Me?I’mfine!Absolutelyfine,”Irepeat,pickingupmyglassanddrainingit.“I’mgoingtogowee.”
Ihopoffmystoolandscurryawayfromhimtowardtheloo,instantlyregrettingsayingtheword“wee”infrontofhim.WhenIfinishwashingmyhands,Ileanonthebasintostareatmyreflection.Thankfully,noneofmymakeuphassmudged(yet).I’mgladItookparticularcareovermyappearanceformyinterviewtoday.
“Sleepingwithhimwouldbeabadidea,”Itellmyreflection.
“Sexisneverabadidea!”repliesadrunkenvoicefromanothercubicle,givingmeafright.Idashoutofthetoilets,absolutelymortified.Thankgodwhoeveritisdidn’tseemecomeintothebathroomandwon’tbeabletoidentifymeinthepub.
AsImakemywaybackovertoRyan,heglancesupfromhisphoneandsmilesatme.It’sthatsecretiveonehedoessometimes,likeheknowssomethingIdon’t.Itusuallyannoysmeintheoffice,butnowitbringsmetoaswiftrealization.
It’slikethephantomgirlinthecubiclesaid:sexisneverabadidea.CHAPTERTWELVE
RyanandIappeartohaveformedatruce.
WhenyougothroughsomethingasmomentousasdeliveringababyinthebackofaLondoncabtogether,abondinevitablyforms,andonMondaymorningwhenIarriveattheoffice,helooksupfromhisdeskasIapproachandsmiles.Ismileback.
“Goodweekend?”heasks.
“Prettyuneventful,”Ireplybreezily,takingmyseatnexttohim.“You?”
“Oh,sameold.”
Webothturntoourscreens,equallyamused,andIspotMimiarchhereyebrowsatusacrosstheway.Sheistheonlyoneintheofficewhoknowswhathappenedattheparty—weagreedwithIsabellanottotellanyonebecauseitwouldmakesuchagreatstoryfortheexclusiveshe’dalreadyagreedtogivemeaboutthebaby.Onceshe’ssettledathome,we’llinterviewherandcanworkthedramaofthebirthintothestory.Itwillhaveamuchbiggerimpactifwekeepthedetailstoourselvesuntilthepieceispublished.Wewereworriedthecabdrivermightspillthebeans,butthere’sbeennowhiffofthestoryanywhere,sowe’reconfidenthehadnoideawhoIsabellaBlossomwas.
“Cosmoisgoingtolosehismindwhenhereadsit,”Ryanhadchuckledwhilewesippedtheterriblecoffeefromthemachineinthehospital.“Twoofhisjournalistsdeliveringaworld-famousactor’sbaby?Whatascoop.”
“Remember,thisisCosmowe’retalkingabout,”Iremindedhim.“He’llprobablybumpitfromthefrontpageforapieceonwhybowlingismakingacomebackamongyoungsuccessfulbusinessmen.”
“Youthinksolittleofhim?”
“Hethinkssolittleofme.”
“Thatcan’tbetrue,”heclaimed,frowning.“It’sobviousthathedoesn’tappreciatecelebritycultureinthesamewayyoumight,buthemustknowhowluckyheistohaveyou.You’reoneofthebestjournalistsoutthere.”
“Ifhethinksso,hehasafunnywayofshowingit.Youmusthavenoticedhowhetreatsyoucomparedwithhowhetalkstome,”Isighed,beforegivinghimasuspiciouslook.“Oneofthebestjournalistsoutthere,huh?”
Heshrugged.“I’vealwaysthoughtso.”
Heseemedgenuine,butIthinkhewasstillhighonadrenalinefromdeliveringababy,soIprobablyshouldn’tlookintoittoomuch.
Still,ourbickeringandsnideremarkshavenoticeablydecreased.We’realmostpleasanttooneanother.Forexample,whenDominiccomesoverfromtheartdesklateMondaymorningtoconsultRyanaboutalayoutforapieceonvillagecricket,Ryanexaminesitwithhisbrowfurrowedbeforeturningtome.
“I’mnotsureaboutthisleadpicture,”hesays.“Harper,whatdoyouthink?”
ItearmyeyesawayfromapressreleaseaboutaTVpresenter’snewclothingline.
“Sorry?”
“Whatareyourthoughtsonthispicture?”Ryanasks,gesturingtohisscreen.“I’mnotsureit’squiteright.”
Attemptingtohidemyshockatbeingasked,Imoveclosertohisdesktohavealook.
“Yeah,Iagreewithyou.Idon’tthinkitshouldfocusononecricketerbowling.”
“Right.”Ryannods.“Itneedsabitmore…”
“Green?”Isuggestwhenhetrailsoff
“Exactly.Weneedtoseethebiggerpicture.Setthescene.Giveitabitmoreofa…”
“AnEnglish-country-villagefeel.”
“Yes!”Ryanbeamsatme.“Thanks,Harper.Thatokay,Dominic?”
“Noproblem,”Dominicsays,glancingatthetwoofusinconfusion.Hewalksaway,lookingbackatusasthoughtryingtoworkoutwhatjusthappened.
Laterthatday,RyanwandersintothekitchenwhileI’mmakingacupofteaandlookssurprisedwhenIaddhalfasachetofsugar.Icatchhisexpressionandrollmyeyes.
“Ionlyallowmyselfsugarinmyteaasatreatsometimes,”Iexplain,althoughIdon’tknowwhyIfeeltheneedtojustifyit.“Don’tworry,I’mawareofhowbaditisforme.”
“Actually,Iwasconfusedatyouusingsugarratherthanhoney,”hemuses,goingaboutmakinghimselfacoffee.“Ithoughtyouwereafanofhoneytea.”
Istareathim.“You…yourememberthat?”
“Sure.”Heshrugs.“Youwerethepersonwhointroducedittome.I’dneverhadhoneyinmyteabefore.Ithinkyousaiditwasyourmumwhousedtomakeitforyou?”
“OnlywhenIwasill,”Iconfirm,beforegrimacing.“TherareoccasionthatMumwouldbothertoshowshecared.Guessthat’swhyIfinditsocomforting.”
HelookssadandIfeelbadformakingtheconversationsodeepallofasudden,soIbrightlyadd,“I’mgladthatIpassedonhoneyteatosomeoneelse.Ihopeyoustilldabble?”
“Icertainlydo.It’sgreatonahangover.”Hegesturestomymug.“Butyoudon’thaveitatworkanymore?”
“No,justathome.OnlybecauseI’msolazyandneverremembertobringhoneyintotheofficewithme,”Isay,pickingupmyteafromthesideoncehiscoffeeisdoneandstrollingbacktoourdeskstogether.
Thenextday,bythetimeIcomein—which,Cosmogleefullyannouncessothateveryonecanhear,istwentyminutesaftermycontractedhours(andhedoesn’tcareifIwasonaworkcall)—Ryanisalreadytypingawayonhiskeyboardandlooksupmomentarilytosayhibeforefocusingonhiswritingagain.Ithrowmybagdownonthefloorandthennoticesomethingwaitingformeamongallmybelongingsscatteredacrossmydesk:ajarofhoney.
Ipickitupinwonder.
“Soyoucanhaveyourhoneyteahere,”Ryanexplainssimply,standingupandwanderingovertotheprintertocollectsomethingbeforebeingcalledintoCosmo’soffice.
Stunned,Iwatchhimgo.
“What’sthatallabout?”Mimiasks,restingherchininherhandsandsmilingcoyly.
“Nothing,”Isaywithawaveofmyhand,loweringmyselfintomychair.
Sheleansback.“Doesn’tlooklikenothingtome.”
Ignoringher,Ilogonandstartgoingthroughmyemails,everynowandthenstealingaglanceatthejarofhoney,unabletostopasmilespreadingacrossmyface.
IhavetoadmitthatworkisalotmorepleasantwithoutconstantlyarguingovereverythingwithRyan,butit’sslightlyunnerving,himbeingsoniceandmeenjoyingitsomuch.I’vestartedlookingforwardtoseeinghimeverymorning,aflutterofbutterflieshittingmystomachatthesightofthoseamazingblueeyesandthecrinklesaroundthecornersofhismouthwhenhesmileshello.AndMimiisright—hedefinitelydoesseemtopaymoreattentiontomethantoanyoneelseintheoffice.He’squietingroupconversations,butwhenwe’retogether,it’seasytogethimtalking.
Thisisbad.Ihaveaboyfriend.Ishouldn’tbegettingexcitedaboutsomeoneelse’ssmile,especiallywhenit’sapersonwithwhomIhavehistory.Notjustanyhistory.Checkeredhistory.
ButI’mstartingtohavedoubtsoverLiam.
IthoughtitwasgoingtobehardtokeepthestoryaboutIsabella’sbabysecretfromhim,butitturnsouttohavebeenunbelievablyeasybecausehehasn’taskedmeonequestionabouttheparty.Instead,hewentonabouthowproudheisthatheputhimselfoutthere,bravelyapproachingpeopletointroducehimself,andhowhe’sprettymuchsignedthatbandHaloSkewed,someofthebestperformershe’deverseenplaylive.
“YouhavetocometotheirgignextFriday,”hesaidonTuesdaynightwhenImethimatthesushirestaurantnearhisflat.“They’dbeperfectforabigarticleinthemagazine.”
“Inmymagazine?”
“Yeah,course,”hesaid,chuckling.“Apieceallaboutthehottestnewbandabouttogoskyrocketingintothecharts.Trustme,whenyoucometothegig,you’llbeblownaway.So,you’llcome?”
“Uh…”
Ihesitated,selectingaspicytunarollwithmychopsticks.Iknewnothingaboutthisband.AndIcouldn’tshakeRyan’simplicationatthepartythatLiamwasmuchmoreinterestedinnetworkingthanhewasin…well…me.
“I’msoexcitedforyoutoseethemlive,”he’dcontinued,takingmypauseinansweringtobearesoundingyes.Icouldn’tbebotheredtocorrecthim,soI’dleftit.
PartofmyuncertaintyaboutLiamisthatIknowverywellthatIhaveatendencytoputworkbeforeanythingelse.It’sthereasonnoneofmypreviousrelationshipshaveworkedout.I’mnotaneasypersontodate,somaybeIshouldn’tgiveuponLiamquiteyet.He’sgorgeous,smart,driven…
Buthedidn’tbuymehoneyformytea.
“Pennyforyourthoughts?”
IjumpatRyan’svoice,havingbeenfrettingoverLiamwhilewaitingforanicedcoffeeinRoasted,thecaféclosesttotheoffice.
“Ohhi,”Isay,blushing.“Iwas…uh…thinkingaboutworkstuff.”
Heputshishandsinhispockets.“Somethingthat’svexingyou.”
“HowdoyouknowIwasvexed?”
“Yougotthecrinkleinbetweenyoureyebrows,”headmits.
“Excuseme?”
Herunsthetipofhisforefingerdownthemiddleofhiseyebrows.“Yougetacrinkleherewhensomethingisstressingyouout.”
“No,Idon’t.”
Henods.“Youdo.It’sanobvioustell.You’reusuallyprettyrelaxed,butwhensomethingisbotheringyou,thecrinkleappears.”
“IhaveanicedcoffeehereforParker?”thebaristayellsoutfrombehindthecounter,readingthescribblednameonthesideofthecup.“IsParkerhere?IcedcoffeeforParker!”
Whennooneelsestepsforward,Iraisemyhand.“IthinkI’mParker.”
“Hereyougo,”shebeams,handingitover.“Enjoy!”
“Thankyou,”Ireply,turningtoseeRyanlookingamused.“What’ssofunny?”
“Nothing,Parker.”Hegrins.“Enjoyyouricedcoffee.”
“Whatareyouwaitingon?”
“Amocha.”
Iwrinklemynose.“Amocha?”
“What’swrongwithamocha?”heasksdefensively,foldinghisarms.
“Idon’tknow.”Ilookhimupanddown.“Youwriteaboutlandminesbutyoulikechocolateinyourcoffee.”
Hetiltshishead.“I’mamanofmanylayers.”
“Clearly.”
“IhaveamochahereforBrian!”thebaristacallsout,andit’slikemusictomyears.“MochaforBrian!”
Hesighs,shufflingforwardashesays,“I’mBrian,”whileIwaitwithanextremelysmugsmileplasteredacrossmyface.
“Allright,Parker,noneedtolooksopleasedwithyourself,”hegrumblesaswefallintostepwitheachotherafterleavingRoasted,makingourwaybacktotheoffice.
“Ihopethatmochaisuptoscratch,Brian.”
“Thereallysadthingis,Igetmycoffeeherealmosteverymorningbeforeworkaroundquartertoeight.Literallysametime,everyday.You’dthinktheywouldrecognizemebynow.”Heshrugs.“So,you’renotgoingtotellmewhatwasstressingyououtandcausingthecrinklebeforeIdisturbedyourtrainofthought?”
“It’sallveryWhenHarryMetSally,thiscrinklenonsense.”
Helooksconfused.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youknow,attheendofthemoviewhenherunstofindheratthepartyandhedoesthatamazingspeech,andhesaysthathelovesthecrinkleabovehernose,”Iexplain.
Heshrugs.“I’veneverseenit.Butitsoundslikeyoujustspoiledtheending.”
Igasp,stoppingsuddenlyandgrippinghisarm.“You’veneverseenWhenHarryMetSally?”
Heshakeshishead.“Isthatbad?”
“Yes!It’sthegreatestrom-comofalltime.No.Wait.MaybetiedwithNottingHill.”
“NottingHillalwaysbotheredme.”
“Ryan,pleasedon’ttellmethatyoudon’tlikeNottingHill,becausewe’reonlyjuststartingtoseeeyetoeyeagain,andIdon’twanttogobacktohatingonyouallthetime.”
Heburstsoutlaughing.“Wow,Harper,sayithowitis.”
“Well,it’strue,isn’tit?”
“Yeah,Iguessso,”hesaysaswestartwalkingagain.“Deliveringababyreallybreaksdownbarriers.”
“So,putmeoutofmymisery.WhatisitaboutNottingHillthatbothersyou?”
Hetakesadeepbreath.“Okay,Ilikethemovie,sodon’tpanic.Butisn’tshekindofmeantohimthewholetime?Shedoesn’ttellhimshehasaboyfriendandthenshepickshimupanddropshimwhenevershelikes.Shetreatshimterribly.Idon’tgetit.”
“Shedoesnot!She’s…aloof,”Itellhim,frowning.“It’snoteasyforher,beingaHollywoodstar.Shedoesn’ttrustanyonearoundher.”
“Ofcourseyou’reonthesideofthemoviestar,”hesayswithaknowingsmile.“Hasthereeverbeenanyoneyou’veinterviewedwhoyoudidn’tlike?”
“Ajournalistdoesnotrevealhersecrets.”
“Aha!That’sayes,then.”
“Therehavebeenacouplewhohavebeendifficulttowarmtomaybe,butIalwaystrytoseethingsfromtheirpointofview.Imean,we’rejournalists,Ryan.We’retheenemy.”
“Theenemywhogivesthemthepublicitytheyneedtobefamousandsuccessful,”heremarks.“Theyactasthoughtheyhateus,butthetruthis,theyneedus.”
“Thecomplextruth.”Inod.“WhichiswhyImakesurethatI’mthegoodguy.What’sthepointindraggingpeopledown?Wheredoesthatgetyou?”
“Valid,butyouhavetobehonestwithyouraudience,”hesaysaswereachourbuildingandheopensthedoorsforme.“Ifyouonlywritegoodthings,they’renotgoingtothinkyoumeanit.AsMr.Darcysaid,‘Yourgoodopinionisrarelybestowedandthereforemoreworththeearning.’There’ssomethingtothat,Ithink.”
Onceagain,hecausesmetohaltinmytracks.
“DidyoujustquoteJaneAustenatme?”
“MymumisobsessedwithColinFirth,”herepliesbreezily,continuingonpastthemainpaperdesksandgivingsomeofhisformercolleaguesawaveashepasses.“It’smysecrettalent,quotingtheBBCadaptationofPrideandPrejudice.WeusedtowatchiteveryChristmas.”
Catchingupwithhimagain,I’mcompletelybowledoverbythisnewinformation.SometimesIthinkIknowRyanthroughandthrough,andthenothertimesIrealizeIdon’tknowhimatall.
“There,”hesayssuddenly,glancingatmeandwagglinghisfingeratmyface
“What?”
“There’sthecrinkle.”Hegrinsashesitsathisdesk,placingdownhismocha.“MyJaneAustenknowledgeisvexingyou.”
Shakingmyheadandconcentratingonmakingmyforeheadasun-crinkledaspossible,Ilogbackintomycomputer.Forcingmyselfnottolookathim,Iconsiderhistheory.He’swrong,ofcourse.It’snothisJaneAustenknowledgethat’sgettingtome.
It’shim.
Ourtrucedoesn’tlastlong.
ItshouldcomeasnosurprisethatthecrackinournewfoundpeaceiscausedbyCosmo,whocallsusbothintohisofficethatThursdayafternoon.
“Harper,I’veseenyouremailaboutinterviewingMaxSj?bergtomorrowinManchester—”
“It’sgoingtobeamazing,”Isayenthusiastically.“They’recurrentlyfilmingseriestwoofhisdetectivedramathere,BlueLights,andhispublicisthaspromisedthatIcanhaveatleasthalfanhour,maybeanhour,andthenwecansendaphotographernextweektodoashoot.We’veneverhadthechancetointerviewhimbefore;he’sahardmantopindown.Totallyiconic,obviously.Heputwoollyjumpersonthemap.”
“IthoughtthedetectivefromTheKillingputwoollyjumpersonthemap,”Ryaninterjects.
“Shedefinitelyshinedalightonthem,butMaxhasbeensportingwoollyjumpersinScandinaviandetectivedramasfortwodecades.Plus,it’saprettybigdealthathewasaskedtobeintheEnglishversionoftheoriginalSwedishshow,playingthesamedetective.Imean,whendoesthateverhappen?”
“True.”Ryannods.
“He’sthatgood.Theycouldn’tpossiblyaskanyoneelsetoplaythatrole.”
Cosmoclearshisthroatpointedly.“I’mgoingtoaskRyantodotheinterview.”
Iblinkathim.“What?”
“It’sagoodinterviewforthemagazine,butRyanwillwriteit,”Cosmoemphasizes,claspinghishandstogetheracrosshislapandleaningbackinhischair.“Itmakessense.”
IglanceatRyan,who,inhisdefense,lookslikethishasbeensprungonhim,too.
“Cosmo,thisismyinterview.Iknowthepublicist,Imadethecontact,”Itellhimascalmlyaspossible.“I’vebeenpesteringhertoletmetalktoMaxSj?bergforalongtime.”
“Iknow,”Cosmoreplies,shiftinginhisseat.“ButIwouldlikeRyantotakeitfromhere.”
“But…why?”Iask,myvoicegoingalittlemorehigh-pitchedthanI’dhaveliked,likeaput-outchild.
“RyanisSwedish,”Cosmosays,asifit’sobvious.“MaxSj?bergisSwedish.”
Iputmyhandsonmyhips.“Whatdoesthathavetodowithanything?”
“It’slikelythey’llhavemoreofaconnection,”Cosmoexplains,gettingirritatednow.“Ryanwillunderstandhimbetter,hisheritageandbackground.”
“RyanishalfSwedish,”Ipointout.“HegrewupinEngland.”
“IdidspendmyholidaysinStockholmwithmydad’sfamily,”Ryancomments,butquicklycowersundermyglare.
“Cosmo,”Ibegin,attemptingtokeepmyrageundercontrol,“Idon’tconnectwellwiththepeopleIinterviewbecausewe’rethesamenationality.Thathasnothingtodowithgettingactorstoopenup.”
“Ryanisourfeatureseditor,anexcellentwriter,abrilliantinterviewer,andhe’sSwedish,”Cosmolists,juttinghischinout.“IfyouhadtopickonepersoninthisofficetointerviewMaxSj?berg,whowouldyoupick?”
“Iwouldpickme!”Iargue.
Cosmosighs.“I’vemademydecision,Harper.Ryanisdoingtheinterview.”
IturntoRyantoappealtohim.“Youagreewiththis?”
“I…look,”hesays,holdinguphishands,“Ithinkyoushoulddotheinterview,you’retheonewhosetitup.”
“Thankyou!”
“ButIdothinktheSwedishanglemightbehelpfulinputtinghimateaseduringtheinterviewandgettinghimtochatmoreopenly.He’sbeenknowntobeprickly,andit’salwayshelpfultohavesomethingincommontobreaktheice.”
“Areyouserious?”Icry,throwingmyhandsup.“Ididn’tgetAudreyAbbottorelaxbystartingtheconversationabouthowwebothgrewupinLondon!Really,Ryan?YouthinkMaxSj?bergwillbemoreforthcomingifyouopenbyaskinghimwhathisfavorite…ABBAsongis?”
Ryanoffersmeanamusedsmile,whichIdonotappreciaterightnow.
“IsABBAthemostSwedishthingyoucouldthinkof?”
“Thatandschnapps,”Iadmitgrumpily
“Harper—”Cosmobegins,butRyaninterruptshim.
“Imighthaveasolution,”hesaysoptimistically.“Wecouldbothgo.”
CosmolooksasconfusedasIfeel.“I’msorry?”
“Whydon’tHarperandIbothgotoManchestertomorrow?Wecouldinterviewhimtogether.”
“What?”Ishakemyhead.“Thatwouldn’twork.”
“Yes,itwould.You’rethebestinterviewerontheteamand,asCosmosays,itwouldbehelpfulformetobethere,too,ifhediscussesgrowingupinStockholm,”Ryansuggests,beforegivingmealook.“It’snotlikeitwouldbethefirsttimewe’veworkedonafeaturetogether,Harper.”
Iblushatthememory,butbeforeIcanspeak,Cosmointerjects.
“I’mnotsurehowIfeelaboutexpensingtwoofyoutravelingtoManchesterforaninterviewthatcaneasilybeconductedbyonejournalist,”hesayswithafrown.
“MyparentsliveinDidsbury,andIwasplanningondrivinguptoseethemthisweekendanyway,soI’mhappynottoexpensemytravel,”Ryaninformshim.“Ithinkthisisgoingtobegreat.Betweenthetwoofus,we’llbeabletogetthebestoutofoneofSweden’sbestactors.Ireallythinkthisisasmartidea,Cosmo.Trustme.”
Cosmohesitates,thenbeginstonodslowly.“Allright.Problemsolved.”
“But…but…”Iflailaround,tryingtosaysomething,butfeelingtoothrowntoknowwhatI’mtryingtoconvey.
“Harper,CosmohasagreedthatyoucaninterviewMaxSj?berg,”Ryanpointsout.“Everyone’shappy,right?”
Istareathimandrealizethathe’sprobablyright.Cosmowasn’tgoingtobackdown,soasmuchasIwanttodothismyself,Idon’tthinkIhavemuchofachoice.ButasIfollowRyanbacktoourdesks,myfrustrationgetsthebetterofme.
“Ican’tbelieveyoujustdidthat,”Ihiss.
“Youmean,helpedyougetwhatyouwant?”hereplies,confused.
“Youstolemyinterview!”
Hegivesmeastrangelook,slowlyreplying,“No,Iwasofferedyourinterviewandworkedoutasolutionsothatyoucouldkeepit.”
“Youshouldhaverefused.”
“Oh,becausethat’salwaysagoodmovewhenyoureditorasksyoutodosomething?”hesayssarcastically.
“Youareunbelievable.”
“Soareyou!”hehuffs.“You’redoingtheinterviewyouwanted!”
“I’mdoingtheinterviewIdeservetodobecauseit’smyinterview,”Isay,raisingmyvoiceandcausingpeopletolookourway.
“Justbecauseyousetitupdoesn’tautomaticallymeanyou’rethebestpersonforthejob,”Ryanargues.“AndIneversaiditwasn’tyourinterview!I’msayingthatthisway,it’sthebestofbothworlds!”
Ijabmyfingerathim.“Foryou,notforme.Ifyouhadanyintegrity,youwouldstanddown!”
“Well,Ithinkitwillbebetterifwe’reboththere!”
“Youhavetostickyournoseintoeverything,don’tyou?Youjusthavetoshowthatyoucandoitbetter!”
“Andyoudon’tknowwhentodropthings!”Heshakeshisheadindisbelief.“Whycan’tyouacceptthatthisisasmartmovethatmakesperfectsense?”
“Whycan’tyoustopstealingmyfeatures?”Isnap,myfacegrowinghotinanger.
“Ihaven’tstolenyourfeature!I’mhelpingyou!”
“Idon’tneedyourhelp!”Icry.
Heletsoutaheavysigh,glancingaroundatourcolleaguestryingnottoobviouslystareatus.
“Let’sdiscussthislater,Harper,”hewhispers,turningtohisscreen.
IsitstewingforamomentbeforeIblurtout,“Webothknowyoustolemyfeature.”
“Andwealsobothknowthatyoujusthavetohavethelastword,”hesnaps.
Iscowlathim.“No,Idon’t.”
Heliftshiseyestotheceilingandthenstartsfuriouslytyping.
Inresponse,Istartangrilytappingaway,too,eventhoughI’mactuallywritingaverypleasantemailtoapublicistIlikealot.
Afterafewmomentsoftensesilence,Mimisighsandsays,“Peacetimewasnicewhileitlasted.”CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
MaxSj?berg’spublicist,Mae,isveryniceaboutherclientnowbeinginterviewedbynotone,buttwojournalists,andsittingonthetraintoManchesterthenextday,IwonderwhetherIoverreactedabit.Itwasn’tRyan’sfaulthewasputinthatpositionbyCosmo.
HeactuallymessagedthismorningtoaskifIwantedtojoinhimonthedrive,butIterselyrepliedthatI’dboughtaticketwhenIscheduledtheinterviewandwantedtodosomeworkonthetrain.ButIthinkhismessagewasanolivebranch,soIadded,“Thanksforasking.”
Andanyway,somethinggoodcameoutofyesterday’schaos,becauseMimiinsistedthatwegoforadrinkafterwork—accordingtoher,IlookedlikeIneededalargeglassofrosé—andoncewewereinthepub,shehadtheperfectnewstocheermeup.
“I’msendingyouonapresstripnextweek,”sheannounced.
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“You,myfriend,aregoingtoFlorence,Italy,fromFridaymorninguntilSunday.Youareverywelcome.”
Ilookedatherinbewilderment.“I’mnotfollowing.”
“There’sapresstriptoaluxuryhotelinFlorencenextFriday,ahotelthatI’dverymuchlikeyoutoreviewforme.Ialreadyemailedthepublicist,Sadie,givingheryournameanddetails.She’llbeincontactwithyouforyourpassport,soshecanbookyourtickets.Itisgoingtobefabulous—Sadieisagoodfriendofmine,you’lladoreher.”
“Mimi!Thatsoundsamazing,butIcan’tgotoFlorencenextweekend.”
“Whynot?Doyouhavebetterplans?”
“No,butIcan’tdropeverythingandgotoFlorence!”
“Yes,youcan,”sheinsisted.“Younevergoonpresstripsandyouworktoohard.Youdeservethis,Harper.Iwantyoutogoandhaveanicerelaxingweekend.It’sFlorence.Youcan’tsayno.”
“Butdon’tyouwanttogo?”
“Harper,Igoonloadsofpresstrips.It’sabouttimethatyoutakeadvantageofhavingthetraveleditorasyourbestfriend.You’realwaysturningmedown,butIrefusetoletyouthistime.Everyoneneedsaholiday,andyouarenoexception.”
“Areyousure?Youdon’twanttoofferittosomeoneelse?”
“Iwantyoutogo,”shelaughed.“Ifiguredthatsinceit’soveraweekend,you’dbemoreinclinedtoaccept.Youwon’tmissanywork.Thiswillbegoodforyou,Harper.You’renotallowedtothinkaboutwhoyoushouldbeinterviewingorwhatpiecewillbethenexthitorhowCosmohasslightedyou—youneedtogetawayandrelax.That’sallIask.”
SothistimenextweekI’llbeonmywaytoItalyfortheweekend.Mimiisright.Ihaven’ttakentimeformyselffor…well…ever,andIcoulddowithabreak.
Myshouldersfeelverytenseallthetimelately—largelybecauseofwork,butalsobecauseofLiam.WhenIapologeticallytoldhimIcouldn’tmaketheHaloSkewedgignextFridaybecauseI’dbeonaworktriptoFlorence,hisreplywas:
Oh,that’sashamebutyoucancometotheirgigthefollowingweek,right??Florencewouldbeamazing.Anychanceyoucangetmeacheekyplaceonthetrip,too??Coulduseaholiday!
Iwasn’tsureifhewasjoking,soIreplied:
Haha,Iwish!Butthinkit’sjournalistsonly.I’llbesuretobringyoubackacheesykeyring,though!
Hedidn’trespondandIhaven’theardanythingfromhimthismorning,either.Isheactuallymadatmefornotgettinghimaspotonapresstrip?!EvenifIcould,I’mnotsureI’dwanthimthere.I’dreallylovesometimetomyself.
Iknow,Iknow.Ishouldwantmyboyfriendtobethere,shouldn’tI?
Ugh,myheadhurts.
Itachesevenmorewhenmyphonestartsvibratingonthetraytableinfrontofme,andIseeit’sDadcalling.
He’llonlykeepcallinguntilIpickup.Mightaswellgetitoverwithnow.
“Hello,Dad.”
“Youhaven’tbeenintouchatallaboutdinnerdates,”hesaysgruffly.
“I’mfine,thankyouforasking,andhowareyou?”
“Harper,I’vehadabadmorningandI’mnotinthemood,”hewarns.“IsentyouanemailwithalistofdatesconvenientforusandJuliet,butyoudidn’treplyandsomeofthosemaybefillednow.”
“Sorry,I’vebeenbusy.”
“Well,itwouldbepoliteofyoutogetbacktome,”hesnaps.“Julietworksmuchlongerdaysandstillfindsthetimetomessageherparents.”
Isigh,liftingmyeyestotheceiling.“Dad,I’llreplytoyouremail,okay?Thanksforthereminder.”
“Whereareyou?Whydoesitsoundsoloud?”
“I’monatrain.”
“You’renotintheofficeonaweekday?”heaskswithgreatdisapproval.
Irubmyforehead,closingmyeyes.“Myjobsometimesinvolvestravel.I’mgoingtoManchestertointerviewMaxSj?berg.”
“Who?”
“TheSwedishactor.HaveyouseenBlueLights?”
“Idon’thavetimetowatchsoaps,”hesaysdismissively.“Sendmethedatesthatsuitwhenyoufindthetimeinyourhecticschedule.”
Ibitemytongue,notlettingmyselfsnapbackathisheavilysarcastictone.
“Okay,willdo.Anyway,Imightloseyouatanymomentbecauseofthetrainsignal,sothanksforthecallandI’llmessageyouwiththosedates.”
Ihangupandslumpbackinmyseat,tossingmyphoneontothetraytableandtryingtotakedeepbreaths,asatherapistonceadvisedmetodo.Ibookedacoupleofsessionsafterattendingmyparents’greatlychallenginganniversarydinnerwhere,afterlistingJuliet’smanyachievementstotheirfawningfriends,myparentsbreezedpastmesaying
Noonespoketomethewholenight.Idranktoomuchvodkaandleftbeforedessertwithoutsayinggoodbye,stealthilytippingthespoonfrommyplacesettingintomyhandbagbeforeIwent.ThenextmorningIponderedwhystealingfrommyownparentsfeltlikeasmallvictory,butitdid.Icouldn’texplainit.
BythetimethetrainpullsintoManchesterstation,I’vegonethroughmyquestionsforMaxandrecheckedmymakeupandgeneralappearance,feelingalittlenervous.Idon’tknowhowthisisgoingtoplayoutwithRyan,butIhavetostandfirmandmakesureIleadthisinterview,nothim.IheadtothetaxirankandsendRyanamessageonceI’minacartolethimknowI’monmyway
Hereplies:
Great,Ijustarrivedsoseeyousoon.
Ofcoursehe’searly.He’sprobablydonethatonpurpose,tryingtogetintherewithMaxsothatwhenIshowup,they’realreadybestbuddies.IhopeMax’spublicist,Mae,wouldn’tallowanythingtogoaheadwithoutmebeingthere,too.
Wereachthesetlocation—acobbledroadcalledLittleDavidStreet,whichhasbeenclosedoffforfilming.IspotMaestandinginacornerbehindthecameracrew;she’stalkingtoRyan,whoisholdingtwocoffeecups.
Iscowlinstinctively.
RyanisprobablyfillingherinonhisSwedishheritageandtryingtosuckuptoherbybringingheradeliciouscoffee.IhopeMaeisn’tfallingforit,althoughbythewayshe’sflutteringhereyelashesupathim,Imayhavealreadylostherallegiance.
I’veworkedwithMaebeforeandwegetonwell.She’sverysmartandhasacool,trendyedgetoher,alwaysdressedlikeshe’sheadingtoanexclusivehousepartyhostedbyaDJinanabandonedwarehouseinHackney.Todayshe’sinhigh-waistedblack-and-whitecheckeredtrouserswithaloosewhitecollaredshirttuckedinandbuttoneduptothetopandheeledblackankleboots.She’swearinglittletonomakeupbecauseshehasthatkindofeffortlessbeautythatpeoplelikemecanonlydreamof:long,dark,impossiblyglossycurls;strikinglylargedark-browndoeeyes;full,plumplips.
Slingingmybagovermyshoulder,Imarchtowardthemdeterminedly.
“Harper,you’rehere!”Maesays,brighteningandgivingmeakissonthecheek.“It’sbeenages.Howwasyourjourney?”
“Nottoobad,thanks,”Isay,plasteringonasmileandgreetingRyanwithacurtnod.“Thetrainwasn’tasbusyasIthought.”
“Good.Well,I’vebeentellingRyanthat,asusual,we’reateensybitbehindsoI’mnotsureyou’regoingtobeabletospeaktoMaxforawhile.”
“AndIwastellingMaethatwe’rehappytowaitaroundsolongaswegetoneofthosecoolchairsthatsayWRITERacrosstheback,”Ryansayswithmoreanimationthanheusuallyexhibitsaroundastranger.
I’mhitbyanunwelcomeandunreasonablewaveofjealousy.
Maegiggles.“I’llseewhatIcando.YoutwowaithereandI’llgogetanupdate.”
“Allright,then,”Ryanbeginsonceshe’shurriedoff.“What’swrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Icantellthatsomethingiswrong.”
Irollmyeyes.“Don’tgivemeanyofthat‘crinklebetweentheeyebrows’crap.”
“It’snotjustthecrinklebetweentheeyebrows,Harper,it’syourentireaura.SomethinghasreallyupsetyouthismorningandIjustwantedtocheckthatyou’reokay,butI’msorryforprying.”Hesighsbeforeholdingoutoneofthecoffeesforme.“Here—Igotyouaflatwhite.Itmightnotbeashotasitshouldbe,butIwasn’tsureyou’dhavetimetogetoneafterthetrain.”
Damnit.WhydoeshehavetobesonicewhenI’minsuchabadmood?!NowIfeelbad,andit’sallhisfault.Heisinfuriating.
“Thanks,”Isaysheepishly,takingthecoffee.“Sorry,it’snotyouI’mmadat.”
“Foronce,”heteases.
Hiscommentallowsmetocrackasmile.“True.”Iletoutaheavysigh.“MydadphonedonthewayhereandImadethemistakeofpickingup.”
“Ah.”Henodsinunderstanding.“Arethingsstilldifficultbetweenyouandyourparents?”
“Somethingsneverchange.”
“I’msorry,”hesaysquietly.
Ishrug.“Idon’tknowwhyIlethimgettome.”
“Becausehe’syourdad,”Ryansayssimply.“Butyoushouldn’tlethimruintoday.Thisisanamazinginterviewthatyou’veworkedhardtoget.”
“You’reright.Ijustwish…”Itrailoff.“Nevermind.”
Ryan’sexpressionisearnest.“Listen,Harper,I’veneverunderstoodwhyyourparentstreatyouthewaytheydo,butifthey’reblindtotheirdaughter’shappinessandachievements,thenwhatdoesthatsayaboutthem?It’sashamethey’resonarrow-minded.Ifeelsorryforthem,personally.Yoursister,too.Imagineonlycaringabouthowfarsomeonegetsinonekindofcareer?Thinkhowmuchtheymustmissouton.It’ssad.”
Istareathim.
“What?”heasks.“DidIsaysomethingweird?”
“No,yousaidsomething…reallynice.Thankyou.It’sstrangethatyouremembersomuchaboutmyfamily.”
Hisblueeyesboreintomine,andheaddsquietly,“Iremembereverything.”
Mycheeksburnunderhisgaze.
Inthatmoment,IknowthatassoonasIgetbacktoLondon,IneedtobreakupwithLiam.
It’snotbecauseRyanhasthekindofblueeyesthatwouldmakeanyonegoweakattheknees,andit’snotevenbecausethereappearstobe…somethingbetweenus,somekindofinexplicablesparkthat’sgettingharderandhardertoignore.
No,thereasonIneedtobreakupwithLiamisbecauseI’venevertoldhimthetruthaboutmyfamily.I’veneversharedtheshameIcarry,knowingthatI’mafailureinmyparents’eyesandaloserinmysister’s.Hedoesn’tknowhowhorribleIfeelwhenhesayshe’stoldhisfamilyallaboutme,theunbearablehumiliationofknowingthatIcan’ttellmyparentsabouthim—simplybecausetheydon’tcareaboutmypersonallife.
It’snotjustLiam.Ihaven’ttoldanyoneaboutmyfamily,really.
Butelevenyearsago,ItoldRyan.
Iblurtedoutmymostpainfulsecretswhenthosegorgeouseyeswerelockedonmine—butalso,ItoldRyanbecauseItrustedhim.Andinturn,hetoldmeabouthisbrotherAdam.
“CanIsaysomethingthat’sgoingtoannoyyou?”Ryanaskssuddenly.
“Youhavejustsaidsomethingreallynice,so,sure,throwinsomethingtopissmeoff.Theuniversewillbebalancedagain.”
Hegrinsatme.“Youhavethecrinkle.”
“Oh,forfuck’ssake.”
HelaughsasMaecomesbustlingoverwearingapainedexpression,andIbracemyselfforbadnews.
“It’snotgood,I’mafraid,”shesays,confirmingmysuspicions.“Theproducersaystheyareverybehindandtheycan’tpossiblyspareMax,atleastnotforafewhours.Youarewelcometostayhereandwatchtheaction—I’llbesuretofindyouoneofthosecoolchairs—orifyou’drathergofindsomewherequiettodosomework,Icanphoneyouwhenthingsarelookinghopeful.”
“Areyoukidding?LeaveandmissMaxSj?bergdoinghisthing?I’llstayput,thankyouverymuch,”Ideclare,craningmynecktotrytospothimamongthehuddleofactorsdownthestreetlisteningtoinstructionsfromthedirector
“IactuallyhaveabitofeditingIcouldgetdone,”Ryansays,seemingamusedatmyenthusiasm.“Harper,willyougivemeacallbeforetheinterview?”
“Sure.”
Hegivesmeasuspiciouslook.
“Oh,comeon,”Isay,rollingmyeyes.“Iwouldn’tnotcallyou.I’mnotthatpetty.”
“Thanks,”hesays,laughing.“Seeyouinabit.”
MaeandIwatchhimwalkaway,andthensheturnstome,hereyeswidewithexcitement.
“Umhello,whydidn’tyougivemetheheads-upthatyourcolleaguewasanAdonis?!IwouldhavepaidalittlemoreattentiontomyoutfitifI’dknown,”shesays.
“Ryan?Oh.Yeah,he’s…uh…”
“Hot.Youknowifhe’ssingle?”
Iblinkather,takenoffguard.“I…yeah,Ithinkheis.”
“Amazing.Idon’tknowhowyougetanyworkdonewithhimwanderingaroundyouroffice.”
“SaysthewomanwhoworksalongsideHollywoodactorsalldaylong.”
“Idon’tdateactors,Harper,”shesaysproudly,liftingupherchin.“Icouldn’thandletheirdelicateegos.”
Isnort.“Ifyoucan’thandledelicateegos,thenyoumightwanttoavoidwriters,too.”
“Fairpoint,”shesayswithasmile.“ButI’lltakemychances.Letmegofindyouachair,andputinagoodwordwithRyanforme,wouldyou?Doitstealthily,though.”
Ifindmyselfnoddingasshehurriesoff,andI’mlefttryingtoworkouthowIfeelabouthercrushonRyanandwonderingwhyImaybefuriousaboutit.AnassistantcomesoverwithachairandIsitdown,remindingmyselfthatIhavenorighttobeannoyedbecause,firstly,RyanissingleandMaeissingle;secondly,Ryanprobablydoesn’tseemeinthatwayconsideringwefightoverabsolutelyeverything;and,thirdly,Ihaveaboyfriend.Evenifnotformuchlonger.
ButIstilldon’twantRyanandMaetogettogether.
Ican’tthinkaboutthat.Igetoutmynotepad,jottingdowndetailsaboutthesetandthegeneralatmospherearoundme,usefulobservationsthatIcanincludeinthefeature.IgetreallyexcitedwhenIseetheintimidatingly-tall-in-real-lifeMaxSj?bergappearinhischaracter’siconiclook,atleastintheBritishversion:athree-piecesuitandadarktrenchcoat.(Thewoollyjumpersmadesenseforadetectiveexaminingdeadbodiesinthevast,icylandscapeofSweden,butforaBritishcoppeeringdownatavictimonacobbledstreetinrainyManchester,itwouldprobablylookabitodd.)
Anyway,whenIseehimwalkdownthecobbledstreetchattingtothedirector,Ifeelincrediblyprivilegedtowatchthesceneplayout.Thisfeelinggetsoldquitequicklywhenthesamescenehastobereshotseveraltimesover.Bythetenthtake,Ibegintowonderhowanyoneintelevisionhasthiskindofpatienceandhowtheguyholdinguptheboommicdoesn’thaveadeadarm.
Whentheproducerannouncesthatwearebreakingforlunch,IlooktoMaehopefully,butsheshakesherheadandIdeflate.SheinformsmethatMaxneedstoeatandhedoesn’twanttobedisturbedinthepreciousmomentshehasoff.Wemovetoadifferentstreetforanotherscene,andIsendRyanthenewlocation.Whenhearrives,helooksasexcitedasI’dbeenwhenofferedoneofthose“cool”chairs.
HisexcitementinevitablywanesafterwatchingMaxdeclare—forthetwelfthtime—histheoryonwhythemanwhowasstabbedinthecobbledstreetwastheretobeginwith.
Bylateafternoon,Maeprofuselyapologizesandsaysitisn’tlookinglikelytohappentoday.
“However,”shesaysbrightly,“thereisalwaystomorrow!Icandefinitelysqueezeinsometimethen,Ipromise.”
“Tomorrow?YoumeanstayinManchestertonight?”
MyheartsinksasIconsiderfindingahotelatthelastminuteandhowIhavenothingonmeforanovernightstay,notevenatoothbrush.
“Wecoulddothat,”Ryanconsiders.“Harper,haveyougotanythingtomorrowyouneedtobebackfor?”
“No,Idon’thaveplans,butI’dhavetofindahoteland—”
“Wecansortallthat,”Ryansaysconfidentlywithawaveofhishand.“Areyousurewecangetthetimetomorrow,Mae?”
“Absolutely!Iwouldoffertobuyyoudinnerasanapology,butitlookslikeI’mgoingtobeherealongtime,”shesighs.“Icanrecommendsomegreatplacesifyouneed.”
“Don’tworry,Iknowthearea;myparentsliveinDidsbury,”Ryaninformsher.“Leaveitwithme.”
“Great!I’llsendyouthedetailsfortomorrow.ThanksforbeingsounderstandingandI’msosorryagain,”shesays,offeringRyanawinningsmilebeforeleavingus.
“Whatadisaster,”Imutter.
“It’snotadisaster.”
Icrossmyarms.“Ohreally?”
“Well,I’vebeenshoppingwithyouoncebefore,anditwasonlymildlytorturous,soI’mwillingtoaccompanyyoutogetatoothbrushandotherstuffyoumayneedfortomorrow,like…”
Hetrailsoff,hiseyebrowsknittedtogether.
“Likeunderwear?”Iprompt.
“Yes.Right.”Heclearshisthroat.“Underwearandother…garments.”
Isquintathim.“Didyoujustsay‘garments’?”
“Yeah,”hesays,slowlynodding.“Ihavenoideawhy.Ithinktheunderweartopicmademybraingointoawkwardmode.”
“Indeed,itdid,”Isay,greatlyamused.“Anyway,IknowIcanbuygarments,butCosmoisgoingtolosehisheadwhenItellhimIneedtoexpenseahotel.”
“I’vealreadygotthatsorted!”Ryanproclaims,reachingforhisphoneinhispocket.“Youcanstayatmyparents’house.”
“What?”
“Theyhaveaspareroom.Problemsolved.”
Myjawdrops.“Ryan!Ican’tstayatyourparents’house!”
“Whynot?”
“Becausethatwouldbetotallyinappropriate!”
Hetiltshisheadatme.“Why?”
“I’myourcolleague!”Icry,throwingmyhandsupintheair.
“And?”
“Andcolleaguesdon’tturnupatparents’housesandstayintheirsparerooms!”
“Ireckonyoumaybeoverthinkingthis,Harper,”hereplies,lookingunfazedbymyreaction.“It’snotthatbigadeal.Youneedsomewheretostay.Ihavesomewhereyoucanstay.What’slefttodiscuss?”
Heliftshisphonetohisear.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iask.
Hisexpressionbrightensashesays,“HiMum!”
“OhmyGod,Ryan,hangup!”Ihissathim.“Youbetternotbeaboutto—”
“Yeah,we’vefinishedupnow.Listen,bitofasituationhere.Wedidn’tgettheinterview,butthey’vesaidwecandoittomorrowinstead—onlythingis,Harperdoesn’thaveanywherebookedtostay,”hesays,battingmyhandawayasIdesperatelytrytograbhisphone.
Whyishesotall?!
“Yeah,”hecontinues,“soIwondered…ExactlywhatIwasthinking!ThanksMum…yeah…yeahsoundsgreat.Thanks,you’rethebest.I’lltellher.Allright,seeyousoon.”Hehangsup.“Yousee?Ididn’tevenhavetoaskher;shesaidyou’reverywelcometostaywiththem,shewon’thearofyoustayinginsometerriblehotel.She’sgoingtomakeupthespareroomnow,andthere’splentyoffoodforyoutojoinusfordinner,too.”
Iburymyheadinmyhands.“Ryan,no!No,no,no!”
“Youdon’twantadelicioushome-cookedmealandfreeaccommodation?”
“Look,it’sreallykindofthemtooffer,butIcan’tstayatyourparents’house.Iwillfindahotelandthen—”
“Harper,”hesaysgently,placingahandonmyarm,“Iinsist.Andyouknowwhat?Yougettolaughatallthebabyphotosofmedottedaroundthehouse.Doesn’tthatsoundfun?”
Ihesitate.Thatdoessoundquitefun.
“Fine,”Isay,becauseIdon’twanthismumtothinkI’mrudeand,also,hiswarmhandclaspingmyarmismakingithardtothinkstraight.
“Comeon,let’sgogetyoutoiletriesandgarments.”Hegrins.“Andthenyougettomeettheparents.”
Bloodyhell.
Yep.It’sconfirmed.Thisisveryweird.CHAPTERFOURTEEN
It’sastrangethingwitnessingsomeoneyouknowasanadultreturningtotheirchildhoodhome,especiallywhenit’ssomeoneyouseeinaprofessionalcapacity.Yougetglimpsesofwhattheywerelikegrowingupthroughsmallmoments,likehowRyanhadbarelysteppedthroughthedoorbeforehewasdownonhiskneesrufflingthehairofanIrishsetter,whichhadcomelollopingdownthehalltogreethimandwasspinningroundincircles,thenrestingitspawsonRyan’sshoulderstolickhisears.
Throughraucouslaughter,Ryanglancesupatmewithaboyishgrinacrosshisface.“ThisisSullivan.ButhisfriendscallhimSully.”
I’veneverseenRyanmorecomfortableandhappythaninthatmomentwithhisdog.
“Oh,Ryan,you’regoingtogethishairsalloveryourtrousers,”hismum,Emily,says,smilingfondlyathersonassheemergesintothehall.“Juststeparoundhim,Harper,andcomeonin.He’llbedowntheregettingSullyoverexcitedforawhile.”
Slenderandpetite,Emilyhasstrikinglysharpcheekbonesanddelicatefeatureswithgray-blueeyesandhoney-blondhighlightedhair.Sheisdressedinadusty-blueshirttuckedintobeigelinentrousersandhasacalmauraabouther,withasmall,secretivesmileasthoughsheknowssomethingyoudon’t—similartotheoneI’vecaughtRyansportingfromtimetotime.Onher,though,it’snotannoying.
WhenRyanfinallygetstohisfeet,shewrapsherarmsaroundhisshouldersashebendsdowntoherlevelandthenpullsbacktoadmirehim,pattinghischeeklightlywithherhandandtellinghimshe’smissedhim.Helooksmildlyembarrassedatherattention,butsoftens,too,andIcanseefromtheirembracethattheyhaveaclosebond.
IfeelapangofregretthatIdon’tevergetsuchawelcomefrommyfamily.
“Ryan!You’rehome!”comesaboomingvoicefromtheendofthehall.Ryan’sdadappearswithovenglovesandanapronon.Hecomesstridingtowardus,awidesmileacrosshisface.
“AndyoumustbeHarper,”hesayswithaslightSwedishaccent.Heshakesofftheovenglovestoholdhishandouttome.“Welcome!I’mFredrik.Pleasuretohaveyou,makeyourselfathome.Ryan,don’tleaveyourbagonthegroundthereforeveryonetotripover,yes?”
Ryansays,“Givemeamomenttobreathe,Dad,beforeyoustarttellingmeofffornonexistentmess,”andthentheygiveeachotheroneofthoseman-hugsthatinvolvesjustonearmwrappedroundtheotherpersonandsomeroughpatsontheback.
FredrikmustbewhereRyangetshisheightfrom—he’simposinglytallandbroadwithlightbrownhair,speckledwithgray,andsparklingblueeyesthatcouldrivalhisson’s.HechucklesasheinstructsRyantotakeourbagsupstairswherethey’re“outoftheway.”
“AndthereyouwerethinkingIwasaneatfreak,”Ryanmumblestome.“You’llsoonseeIdidn’thaveachoicelivinginthishouse.I’llbebackdowninaminute.”
SullydancesaroundhislegsandthenlooksdistraughtwhenRyanheadsupthestairs,somewherehemustnotbeallowed.Icrouchdowntopathisheadandhespinsaroundexcitedly,thenlicksmyhandsasIgivehimagoodscratchbehindtheears.
“You’readogperson,then,”EmilyobservesasFredrikheadsbackintothekitchen.
“Ilovethem,butweweren’tallowedonegrowingup,”Itellher,smilingathowsoftSully’sheadis.“Myparentsaren’tbigonanimals.”
“Sullyrulesthehousehere,”sheadmits,laughingathisdopeyexpressionashistonguelollsoutthesideofhismouthwhenIgetbacktoscratchinghisears.
“Haveyoualwayshadsetters?”
“Yes,wegotthefirstoneacoupleofyearsafterweweremarried.Andthen,ofcourse,wehadCracker—theloveofRyan’slifewhenhewasateenager.Theywereinseparable.”
“IrememberhimtellingmeaboutCracker,”Isayabsentmindedly.
Emilynodsasthoughshewouldn’texpectanythingless.“ShesupportedRyanthrough…well…everything.”
Alumpformsinmythroat.Iknowshe’stalkingaboutAdam,Ryan’solderbrother.
“Dogsareamazing,”EmilycontinuesasIholdSullyalittlebitcloser.“Theycangetusthroughanything.Andthey’regoofballs,whichhelpswhenyouneedalaugh.”
Oncue,Sullygivesmeabigslobberylickacrossthecheek,takingmebysurpriseandcausingmetotoppleoverbackwardasRyanappearsatthetopofthestairs.HebreaksintoagrinasSullystandsoverme,attackingmewithlicks
“Comeonthroughandlet’sgetyouadrink,”Emilyoffers,pullingSullybackandholdingoutherhandtohelpmeup.“Itsoundslikeyou’vehadquiteaday.”
“Averyunsuccessfulone,”Iconfess.
“Iwouldn’tsaythat,”Ryancontends,comingdownthesteps.“Wedidgettositinoneofthosecoolmoviedirectorchairs.”
“Whatisyourobsessionwiththosechairs?”Iask,followingEmilyintothekitchen,Ryanbringinguptherear.“Surely,watchingMaxSj?berginactionbeatssittinginachair.”
“Didyouatleastgettospeaktothegreatmanatall?”Fredrikasks,havingremovedhisovenglovestoputthefinishingtouchesonahugebowlofsalad
“Sadlyno,butwe’llgettheinterviewtomorrow,”Ryansaysconfidently.
Emilygrimaces.“Ihopetheydon’tletyoudown.Itwouldbeawfulforyoutohavecomeallthiswayandnotgetanytimewithhim.”
“Don’tworry,Mum,Harperwouldneverletthathappen,”heassuresher.“Idon’twanttoknowhermethods,butit’sawell-knownfactintheindustrythatHarperJenkinsgetswhateverinterviewshewants.”
“Aslightexaggeration,”Isay,flushingandlookingdownatmyfeet.
“Ryanneverexaggerates,”Fredrikinsists.“Ifanything,he’smuchtookeentoplaythingsdown,alwaysleaningtowardthecynical.Hegetsthatfromhismother’sside—theBrits.”
“Wouldyoulikewine,Harper?”Emilyasks,rollinghereyesatherhusband.“Whiteorred?”
“Whatever’sopen.”Ismilepolitely.
“Shepreferswhite,”Ryanjumpsin,openingthefridgeandfindingabottle.
Emilyshootshimasmallsmile,andIwonderhowmuchhisparentsknowaboutme.
“Thankyousomuchforhavingmethisevening,”Isay.“It’ssokindofyouwhenit’ssolastminute.ItoldRyanIcouldeasilyfindahotel…”
“Nonsense,”Fredrikinsistswithawaveofhishand,Emilynoddinginagreementasshepassesmeaglass.“It’sapleasuretohaveyou.Takeaseat,anywhereyoufancy.”
Imovetothetableatthefarendofthekitchen,nexttotheopenFrenchwindowsthatlookoutontoabeautifullykeptgarden,whichhasafootpathwindingdownthemiddle,surroundedbyvariouscolorfulflowers.Atthebottomofthegarden,nexttoasmallwoodenshed,isablossomingcherrytree.
“Wow,yourgardenisstunning,”Iobserve,settingmyglassdownatoneoftheplacesnearesttothewindows.“Areyoubothgardeners?”
“Thatwouldbeme,”Emilysays,orderingSullytositinhisbedinthecorner,beforegesturingformetositdownasshepullsoutthechairontheoppositesideofthetable.“Fredrikisbetterinthekitchen.Hedoesn’thavethepatienceforplants.DoyouhaveagardeninLondon?”
Ishakemyhead.“No,butIdidhavesomeherbplantsonmywindowsill.Theydidn’tlastverylong.Iwouldn’tsayI’manatural.Ikeptforgettingaboutthem,tobehonest.”
“Ryan’sverygreen-fingered,”Emilytellsme.
“Mumalwayssaysthis,despitethefactthatthelasttimeIhelpedoutinthegardenwaswhenIwasfifteen,”Ryansighs,carryingthesaladovertothetableandthencomingtositnexttome.“IthinkshehopesthatifshetellsmeI’magoodgardener,Imightfindsomeinterestinit.Sofarhertactichasn’tworked,butsheadmirablypersists.”
“I’mtellingyou,hehadaknackforit,”shesays,promptingRyantogivemeanI-told-you-solookandmakingmelaugh.“Weusedtoplantthingstogether,turningthesoilandweedingwhilehepracticedhisspeechesfordebateclub.”
“Youwereindebateclub?”Iask,impressed.
“Hewascaptainofdebateclub,”Fredrikinformsme,bringingoverasteamingchickendish,freshfromtheoven,thathesetsdownonamatinthemiddleofthetable.
“Great,thanks,MumandDad,”Ryanmumbles.“We’vebeenhereallofhalfanhourandyou’realreadyspillingchildhoodsecretstoHarper.Sinceit’snowcommonknowledge,Ijustwanttobeclearthatbeingcaptainofthedebateclubatschoolwasconsideredverycoolbyallmypeers.”
“Oh,Icanimagine,”Isaywithateasingsmile.“Youknow,itmakescompletesensetomethatyouwouldbecaptainofthedebateclub.”Iturntoaddresshisparents,nowthatFredrikhastakenhisseatatthetable,too.“Ryanisverygoodatarguinghispointwhenitcomestoaheateddiscussionintheoffice.”
“That’scodefor‘Ryanisapaininthearse,’”Ryantranslates.
“NotwhatImeant.”
“Ah,butheisapain,becausehe’sstubborn,”Fredriksays,gesturingformyplatesohecanserve.“Alwayshastohavethelastwordinafight.It’smaddening.”
IturntolookatRyanaccusingly.“Hey!Youalwayssaythataboutme!”
Heshrugs.“Takesonetoknowone.”
“YoucouldneverwinwithRyan,butheusedthatpowerwisely,”Fredriksays,passingmyplatebackoncehe’sloadeditup.“Youknow,hefoundedhisschoolnewspaper?Whenheproposedit,theheadteacherrefused.Hewasworrieditwouldencourageanarchy,Ithink.Well,asyoucanimagine,Ryanwasn’tgoingtotakenoforananswer.”
“Dad,”Ryangroans,“Harperisn’tinterestedinhearingabout—”
“Um,Harperisveryinterested,thankyouverymuch,”Iinterrupt.“Pleasecarryon.”
“Heralliedsupportfromtheotherstudents,proposedadebateforandagainstaschoolpapertotakeplaceinanassemblyandbejudgedbyapanelmadeupofteachersandstudents—clever,right?Thevotewasunanimous.Ryangothiswayandbecametheveryfirsteditor.It’sstillrunningattheschooltoday,andit’sgreatexperienceforthestudentswhowanttogoontostudyjournalismatuniversity.”
“Wow!”Isay,genuinelyimpressed.“That’sreallycool,Ryan.Younevertoldmethat.”
“Debateclub,gardening,schoolnewspapers—whybotherfillingyouinonsuchsexyachievementswhenIcanjustbringyoubacktomyparentsandletthemdothehonors?”hemutters,takingadrinkinbetweenmouthfuls.
“Tobefair,youdoquiteagoodjobofthatyourself.Let’snotforgetyoutellingmethatstoryaboutyourfamouscricketballcatchinthelake.”
Fredrikletsoutagrufflaugh.“Stillboastingaboutthatone,eh,Ryan?”
“Itcameupnaturallyinconversation!”Ryanjustifies.
Igrin.“Hedidmentionit’sstilluponyourmantelpiece.”
“Athisinsistence,”Fredriksays.“I’msurehe’llpointitouttoyoulater.”
“Itreallywasthepinnacleofmycareer,”Ryansighs,sittingbackinhischair.“HarpergotthescooponAudreyAbbotaftersixteenyears;Icaughtacricketballmid-fallbackwardintoalake.Youtellmewhichismoreimpressive?”
“Speakingof,Ilovedthatinterview,”Emilytellsme,hereyeswideningwithinterest.“Whatwasshelikeinperson?Youmustgettospeaktothemostamazingpeopleascelebrityeditor.”
“Audreywasasincredibleasyou’dexpect,”Iconfirm,muchtoherdelight.“Shewasguardedatfirst—nosurprisesthere—butonceshegottalking,shereallywasfascinating.”
“Didsheapproachyoufortheinterview?”
“Notexactly.Ihadtobringherroundtotheidea,butitwasn’taspainfulasIwasexpecting.”
“Haveyoualwaysbeeninterestedinthearts?”Fredrikasks,swallowinghismouthful.
“Yeah,Ialwaysleanedmoretowardtheartsatschool.Ilovedreadingandfilm,too.”
“Anddidyoualwayswanttobeajournalist?”Emilyasks.
“Okay,MumandDad,chilloutonthequestions,”Ryansays,blushing.
“What?”Fredriksaysinnocently.
“You’reinterrogatingher!”
“No,it’sfine,”Isay,laughing.“It’sactuallyreallynicethatanyoneisinterested.”
Hisparentslookabitconfusedbymycomment,whichIletslipwithoutthinking.Itrytoglossitover.“Myparentsaren’tfansofmychosencareerpath,soI’mnotusedtobeingaskedaboutit.”
Itakeamouthful,andasI’mchewingInoticeaflickerofsympathycrossEmily’sface,soIquicklyswallowinordertochangethesubject.
“So,didRyantellyouabouttheroundersmatchweplayedatmyfriend’sbirthdayparty?TheonewhereIbeathimbuthewassuchasoreloser,hewouldn’tadmittoit?”
Fredrikthrowsbackhisheadtolaugh,whileEmilysmilesintoherglass.
“Thissoundsalltoofamiliar,”Fredriktellsme.“Werarelyplayboardgamesbecausesomeonedoesn’ttakekindlytolosing.”
“Whoa,whoa,whoa!”Ryanholdsuphishands.“Firstly,wedon’tplayboardgamesbecauseMumalwayscheats”—Emilygiveshimamock-indignantlook—“andsecondly,Harper,Ithinkyou’llfindthatIgotyououtfairandsquare,andifanyonehadbeenwatchingclosely,therewouldhavebeennocontestovertheresult.”
Igesturetohim.“YouseewhatIhavetoputupwithintheoffice?”
“Idon’tknowhowyoudoit,Harper,”Emilysays.
“You’reasaint.”Fredriknods.
“Thisisoutrageous,”Ryansays,asIcan’thelpbutgiggle.“Myteamwonthatroundersmatch,noquestionaboutit.”
“Ifyoutellenoughpeoplethat,Ronan,maybeyourlocalnewspaperwillrunastoryonit,”Imuse,swirlingthewinearoundmyglass.
Ryansighs,buryinghisheadinhishands.
“Ilikeher,”Fredriklaughs,pointinghisglassatme.“Youcancomeagain.”
Afterdinner,RyanandIinsistonclearingthetableandwashingup,allowingFredrikandEmilytoheadintothesittingroom.IlaughaswebattlewithSullytryingdesperatelytogettotheplatesasweloadtheminthedishwasher,andthenRyantakeschargeofwashinganypotsthatwon’tfitin,whileIheadupdryingduty.
“Sorryaboutthempeltingquestionsatyou,”hesaysquietlywhenwehearmusiconintheotherroom.“Ihopeitdidn’tmakeyouuncomfortable.”
“Notatall.They’regreat.”
Hesmiles,passingmeasoapycasseroledish.“Yeah,they’reallright.”
“IfeellikeIlearnedalotaboutyoutonight.Thegardeningtalentcameasthebiggestsurprise.”Helaughs,andIglanceoutthewindowsatthegardennowbathedinaduskblueasthesunsets.“Thatblossomtreeissobeautiful.”
“WeplantedthatforAdam,”hesays.
Iturntolookathim.“I’msosorry,Ryan.”
“There’ssomephotosofhiminthesittingroom,I’llshowyou.”
“Washesimilartoyou?Ifyoudon’tmindmeasking.”
“No,it’snicetotalkabouthim.Wewerebothcompetitive,butwehadverydifferentpersonalities.HewasmuchsportierthanIwas,andthingscamesoeasytohim.Hebeatmeateverythingbutbooks.”
“Books?”Iask,puttingdownthecasseroledish.
“Yeah,hewasn’tbigonreading.Tooeasilydistracted.Hepreferredbeingoutside,alwayshadtobedoingsomething.That’swhywhenhegotsick…well,itwasjustparticularlyhardseeinghiminbedallthetime,youknow?”
Inod.
“Iusedtobringhimbookswhenhewasgoingthroughhistreatment;Ipickedonesaboutsportsusually.SometimesI’dreadtohimanddoallthevoicestomakehimlaugh,”hesays,smilingatthememory.“Evenwhenhewassick,hestillmanagedtoremindmethatIwasadork.”
“Hewouldn’thavebeensurprised,then,thatyoubecameadorkyjournalist.”
Helaughs.“Notatall.”
Weshareasmileandhepassesmethefinalpot.Myfingersbrushoverhisashehandsittome.Sullygivesaloudbark,makingusbothjump.
Whenwe’refinishedinthekitchen,wejoinEmilyandFredrik,wholetsmeaskhimabunchofquestionsabouthislifeinSwedenbeforehemovedtoEngland,wherehemetEmily.
HeroarswithlaughterwhenItellhimthatRyanpulledthe“butI’mSwedish”cardtogetinontheinterviewwithMaxSj?berg,happilyinformingmeaboutthetimeRyan’scousins,wholiveinStockholm,taughtRyanabunchofveryrudeSwedishwordswhenhewaslittle.Apparently,Ryanrepeatedtheminfrontofeveryoneoverdinner,notknowingwhathewassaying,takinghispaternalgrandmotherbysuchsurprisethatthewineshewasdrinkingwentrightuphernose,promptinghertorepeattheveryrudewordsherself.
ItgetslateandweheadupstairstobedafterFredrikandEmilygivemeaverywarmhuggoodnight.Ryanshowsmetothespareroom,whichisattheendofthelanding,rightnexttohisandoppositethebathroom.
“There’satowelthereforthemorning,andifyouneedanythingelse,justsay,”hetellsme,puttinghishandsinhispockets.
“IthinkI’vegotitall,thankstoourhandytriptoBoots.”
“Good.Oh,IgotoneofmyoldT-shirtsoutforyou,”hesays,noddingtothegrayonefoldedonmypillow.“Iknowearlieryousaidtherewasnopointinbuyingpajamasforonenight,butIfiguredyoumightwantsomethingtosleepin.”
“Thanks,Ryan,that’sso…thoughtful,”Isay,beamingathim.“Andthanksagainforlettingmestaythenight.”
“Andtothinkyoucouldhavehadalovelyeveningalltoyourselfwithouthearingabouttalesofmyyouth.Betyou’regladyoutookmeupontheoffer.”
“Iam,actually.”
Hisexpressionchangesthen,hisamusedsmiledroppingawayintosomethingmoreseriousasoureyesmeet.Ifeelmyheartbeatingfasterassilenceengulfstheroomandwestandinfrontofoneanother,tryingtoworkoutwhat’sgoingon.
Isuddenlyremembersomething.
“Maewantedmetoputinagoodwordabouther,”Iblurtout.
Helooksconfused.“What?”
“Mae,thepublicisttoday?Ithinkshelikesyouandshe’sreallygreat,soifyou’reinterested,youshouldaskforhernumbertomorroworwhatever,becauseIthinkshe’dsayyestogoingonadate,”Ibabbleawayhurriedly.
Henodsslowly.Idropmyeyestothefloor.
“Okay,thanks,”hesayseventually.“Well…goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Turningtogo,hehoversforamomentinthedoorway,turninghisheadtothesideslightly,asthoughhe’sgoingtosaysomething,butthenthinksbetterofit.
Heshutsthebedroomdoorfirmlybehindhim.
AUGUST2012
Severalglassesofwinedownonanemptystomach,IsuggestthatwegobacktoRyan’sforournextdrink.
It’sboldandpresumptuous,butI’mworriedhe’llbetooshytomakethemove,andI’vegotmymindmadeupthatthisishappening.AhugeweighthasbeenliftednowthattheinterviewisoverandIreckonIdeserveanightoffun.Webothdo.Hisjawtensesatmysuggestion,andthenhenods,croakingthatitsoundslikeagoodidea.Hisnervousnessmakesmehappy,asthoughit’sconfirmationhelikesme,too.
Hehadpickedapubthatwasnearermyparents’thanhisflatbecausehewasbeingpolite,sowehavetotakeataxitohisplace.Wesitinthebackseatinsilence—bothofusjustgivingourselvesamomenttotakeinwhat’shappening—untilIfeelhishandbrushagainstmine.Idon’tmovemyhandaway,insteadthreadingmyfingersthroughhis,andsuddenlyI’mholdinghandswithRyaninthebackofataxiandit’ssocringe,butbecausewe’redrunk,it’sokayIguess?
Helivesinabigapartmentblockofflats,andwehavetosuffertheexcruciatingbrightlightsofthesharedcorridorsbeforegettingtohisfrontdoor,wherehefumbleswiththekeyinthelock.Hepushesthedooropenandgesturesformetostepinfirst.It’sasmallflatbutnice,withaspaciousloungeandthekitchenareatuckedawayattheback.It’sveryobviousthattwomenlivehere,asthere’snotmuchinwayofdecoration,buttheblackIKEAbookcasenexttotheTVstandhasRyanwrittenalloverit—thebooksarearrangedinalphabeticalorderbyauthorsurname.
Heoffersmeadrink,andIaskforawhitewine.Whilehepoursaglass,Iperchonhissofa,tappingmykneeswithmyhands.Heputsonsomemusicandthencomesoverwiththedrinks,handingmeminebeforesittingdownnexttome.Ourkneesareangledtowardeachother,almosttouching.Beingthiscloseisexhilarating.Whichisstrange,becauseIsitnexttohimeverydayintheoffice.
Butsomethinghaschangednow.Ifighttheacheofwantingtobecloser.
“I’msurprisedatyourchoiceofmusic,”Iadmit.“Thisisactuallyquiteagoodsong.”
Heshakeshisheadinamusement.“I’lltrynottobeinsulted.WhatkindofmusicdidyouthinkIwasinto?”
“Idon’tknow.Ialwayspicturedyoureadingseriousbooksandlisteningtosomethinggrown-up,likeoldjazz,whiledrinkingaScotch.Maybesmokingapipe.”
Heburstsoutlaughing,thatlovelyfreelaughofhiswhenheforgetstorestrainit.
“Basically,whatyou’resayingis,youthinkofmeassomeonewhohangsoutingentlemen’sclubsinthe1950s.”
“Morelikeacoolspy,liketheonesinthosebooksyoulike.”
Hegivesmealook.“Areyoujusttryingtomakemefeelbetter?”
“Ibetmyestimationofyouisbetterthanhowyouthinkofme.”
“Really?”Heraiseshiseyebrows.
“YouthinkI’manairheadwhoisobsessedwithcelebrities.”
“Wrong,”hestatessimply.
“Fine.YouthinkI’masmartpersonwhoisobsessedwithcelebrities.”
Hesmilesintohisglass.
“Well,Idon’tcarewhatyouthink,RyanJansson,”Icontinuebrazenly.“Ifyouaskme,youneedalittlemorecelebritycultureinyourlife.It’sworryinghowlittleyouknowaboutanyoneinthepubliceye.I’mproudofmyculturalknowledge.AskmeanyfilmandI’llbeabletotellyouwhichactorstarredinit.”
“Idon’tfeeltheneedtotestyou,Harper,Iknowthatyou’re—”
“Aaaaaanyfilm!Comeon!Anyone!Thefirstoneyouthinkof!”Iinsist.
“Okay,okay!Uh…um…Ican’tthinkofany.Mymindhasgoneblank!”
“Youcan’tthinkofonefilm?”
“It’stoomuchpressure!”
“Thefirstonethatpopsintoyourhead!Justsayit!”
“ShakespeareinLove!”heblurtsout.
Istareathim.Helooksupsetwithhimself.
“Didyousay…ShakespeareinLove?”Icheck,andpressmylipstogethersoasnottolaughinhisface.
“Youputmeundertoomuchpressureanditwasthefirstfilmthatcametomind.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Mymindwentblank.”
“Nothingtobeashamedof,Ryan.I’mabigfanmyself.”
“Ididn’tsayIwasabigfanofit.ItwastheonlyfilmIcouldthinkof.”
“ExcellentperformancesbyJosephandGwyneth.”
“You’rejudgingme.”
“IswearI’mnot.”
“Icantellwhenyou’relying.”
“No,youcan’t.”
“Ican,”heinsists,beforelettingoutasigh.“Anyway,yourpointisproven:youhaveexcellentculturalknowledge.”
“Andyouhaveprovenyouhavea…fascinatingtasteinfilm.”
“Herewego.”Heshakeshishead,beforeofferingmeasmallsmile.“Justsoyouknow,Idon’tthinkofyouhowyouthinkIthinkofyou.”
Ifrownathim.“I’vehadtoomanydrinkstodecipherthatsentence.Startagain.”
“You’rewrongabouthowIthinkofyou.”
“Yeah?Thentellme,Ryan,howdoyouthinkofme?”Iaskinnocently,takingasipofmywine.
Hedoesn’tsayanything.Hejustlooksatme.
Ifreeze,completelyunderthespellofhisunflinchinggaze.
Heputshisdrinkdownonthecoffeetableandthenreachesovertotakemyglassbeforesettingthatdownnexttohis.It’ssuchasimplebutsexymove,himtakingcontrolofthesituation.Upuntilnow—thesuggestiontogobacktohis,thefingersentwininginthetaxi—I’vebeenleadingthecharge.Butnow,thewayhe’slookingatme,it’sdifferentthanbefore.There’sawantthere.
Ismilesoheknows.Iwantyou,too.
HeleansforwardandIclosemyeyesashepresseshislipsagainstmine,kissinghimbackhungrily.WefallbackontothecushionsandIwrapmyarmsaroundhisneckashishandsdriftdownmysidestomywaist.MyheartispoundingasImovemyhandstothefrontofhischest,fumblingathisshirtbuttons,desperatetofeelhisbareskinunderneath.
Hestopsmyhandswithhis,liftinghisfacetohoverovermineandsmiling,beforerollingoffthesofaontohisfeet,straighteningandholdinghishandouttome.Alittleconfusedatthepauseinproceedings,Itakehishandandhepullsmeuptostandwithhim,steadyingmeasIstumble,beforeleadingmethroughadoorofftheloungeandintoabedroom.
Iwanttolookaroundhisroomproperly,butIwanthimmore.
AssoonasRyanturnstofacemeagain,Isteptowardhim,tuggingathisshirtashishandbrushesmyhairoutofmyface.Hekissesmeagain,crushingourlipstogether,andI’msoturnedonIcanbarelybreathe.Hishandslowertomywaistandthenslidetothetopofmybackwherehefindsthezipofmydress,pullingitdownsoIcanslipoutofitasitcrumplesontothefloor.Ifranticallyattempttoundothebuttonsofhisshirt,buttheyseemimpossible,myfingersareshakingfromexhilaration.IfeelRyansmileagainstmylipsashisfingerstakeoverfrommine,whippinghisshirtoffinamatterofseconds.
Aswehastilyremovetherestofourclothes,wemoveunsteadilytowardthebed,andwhenthebackofmykneeshitthemattress,Ifallbackontothenavyduvet,pullingRyandownontopofme.Ashepresseshisbodyagainstmine,Iliftmyhipsupintohis,andhepauses.ForamomentIfeelfrozenwithfearthathe’srealizedthisisamistake.
Instead,hewhispersagainstmylips,“I’vewantedthissincethemomentIsawyou,”andkissesmesodeeply,Ishudderinfrenziedanticipation.
Wespendtheweekendinabubbleofblissfulhappiness.Idon’tknowwhat’sgottenintome,butIdevotemyselftotheroleofheroineinarom-com,walkingaroundhisflatinjustmyknickersandhisshirt,nuzzlingintohisneckwhilehestrokesmyhairandkissesmyforehead,spontaneouslyhavingsexatthreeo’clockintheafternoonwithoutacareintheworldforanythingelsebuteachother.
It’ssurreal,afleetingfantasythatIknowhastoendcomeMondaymorningwhenwe’reobligatedtogotowork,butfornowit’sperfect.WhenIfirstwokeuponSaturdaymorning,nakedandslightlyhungover,Igottheclassicwaveofanxietyandfear,terrifiedthatitmightbeawkward,butassoonasRyanstirredandkissedallthewayalongmyshoulder,Irelaxed.
Itwashewhosuggestedwestaytogetherfortheweekend,andwhenImentionedthatIhadnospareclothes,hesaidnoproblem,wecouldgobacktomyparents’inataxiandhe’dwaitinthecarwhileIranupandpackedabag.
“Unlessthatsoundsmuchtoointense,whichItotallyunderstandifitdoes,”hehadsaidhurriedly,tryingtoreadmyexpression.
Itwasintense.Tosleepwithacolleagueafteraboozynightwasonething,buttothenpopbackhometopackaweekendbagsoundedutterlyabsurdandtheactionsofalove-drunk,hornyteenager.Buttobehonest,that’showIfelt.RyanhadsomehowopenedthisPandora’sBoxofsuppressedfeelings—I’dspenttwomonthsfightingwiththisguyandgoingoutofmywaytoannoyhim,andnow,Icouldn’tgetenoughofhim.
SoIwentwithit:hewaiteddownstairswhileIpackedabagandtoldMumIwasspendingtheweekendatafriend’s,notthatsheseemedtocare.Shehadn’tevennoticedI’dbeengoneallnight,assumingI’dgottenbacklateaftertheywenttobed.WhenIshutthefrontdoorofthehouseandhoppedintothebackseatofthetaxi,hiseyeslitupandheleanedoverandkissedme,asthoughhe’dbeenwonderingwhetherIreallywasgoingtoreturn.
It’samagicalweekend;tooperfecttobetrue.Ilienexttohimundertheduvet,studyinghisface,hislongeyelashes,hisfaintstubble,thewayhisthroatmovesasheanswersallthequestionsIaskabouthim,wonderinghowI’vespenttwomonthsnexttothismanandnotreallyappreciatedhowmesmerizingheis.
“Bytheway,whatdidyoumeanlastnightwhenyousaidyou’dwantedthissinceyousawme?”Ipresswhenwegetontothetopicoftheoffice,laughingatourspats.
“Imeantexactlythat,”hereplies,turningonhissidetofaceme.
“Buthow?Imean,it’shardtobelieve.Igotmyhairbrushstuckinmyhairinthefirstfiveminutesofmeetingyou.”
Hechuckles,reachingovertorunhisthumbalongmycheekbone.“Ipromiseyou,it’strue.”
“Whydidn’tyousayanything?”
“Becauseitwasobviousyoudidn’tlikeme.”
“Ididn’tnotlikeyou!”
Helooksatmeskeptically.
“Okay,maybeIthoughtIdidn’tlikeyou,butonlybecauseyouweresorudetomeatfirst.IthoughtIwasjustmakingthefeelingmutual.”
“HowwasIrude?”heasks,confused.
“YoulookedsodisappointedthatIwasinterningwithyou,andthenyousaidsomethingaboutusmaybebeingindifferentdepartments.IknewstraightawayyouthoughtIdidn’tdeservetobethere.”
Hisbrowfurrows.“Okay,Icanseehowthatcouldbemisleading,butIpromisethat’snotwhatIwasthinking.IwasworriedthatI’dbeworkingwithsomeonesodistractinglypretty,”heexplains.
“Yeahright!”
“Iswear!”
“Ryan,thereisnowaythatyouwerethinkingthat.”
“Harper,lookwherewearenow,”hesays,movinghisfaceclosertominesoournosesarealmosttouching.“LikeIsaid,I’vewantedthisfromthatfirstmoment.Whichwasn’tidealwhenIknewIhadtofocusanddoreallywellatthisinternshipifIwasgoingtogetajobattheendofit.Trustme,tryingtokeepmydistancefromyouhasbeentorture.”
Iwanttobelievehimbecauseit’ssolovely.
“Well,youmanageditupuntilnow,”Isaywithasmile,exhalingandturningontomybacktostareupattheceiling.“AndIguesswe’llfindoutsoonenoughifthatfocuslandedyouthejob.It’sgoingtobeweird,isn’tit?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Goingbacktotheofficeafterthisweekend.Findingoutwhetheroneofusgotthejob;theotheronehavingtopackupandleavewhentheinternshipendsonWednesday.”
“Yeah,”hesays,hisvoicelowandsad.
“MyparentsaregoingtobesosmugifIdon’tgetthejob.I’mnotsureI’llbeabletofacethem.They’llbeunbearable.”
“Whatareyourparentslike?”heaskscuriously.
Ihesitate.Iwasreadytochangethetopic,likeIalwaysdo,butsomethingstopsmeandforthefirsttimeinforever,Ifeelliketellingthetruth.Maybeit’sbecausehe’salreadybeensovulnerable:hetoldmeabouthisbrotherandthathewantedmefromthemomentwemet.
MaybeitwashisexcitedexpressionwhenIgotbackinthetaxiatmyparents’house.
Maybeit’sthewayhe’slookingatmenow.
Whateveritis,itmakesmetrusthim.So,Itellhimeverything.Hepatientlylistens,hisbrowfurrowed,firstinconcentration,andthensadnessandsympathy.WhenIconclude,tellinghimthatIwantthisjobsothatIcanshowthemthatthey’rewrong,hedoesn’tdothatannoyingthingthatpeoplehavedonebeforeandsayhe’ssuremyparentsaresecretlyproudofmedeepdownoranythinglikethat.
Instead,hepropshisheaduponhiselbow.
“Screwyourparents,”hesays.“Wantthisjobforyourself.Notforthem.Theydon’tdeserveanycreditforwhatyouachieve.”
Inthatmoment,I’mgladItoldhimthetruth.
AndIdon’ttellRyanthis,butIfeelawaveofexcitementforwhatmighthappenbetweenus;whatthefuturemighthold.BecauseIknowthatthismanisspecialandI’mnotsureI’lleverwanttogivehimup.CHAPTERFIFTEEN
IhardlysleepawinkthatnightatRyan’sparents’house.Ican’tstopthinkingaboutkissinghim,theideasendingsuchathrillthroughmethatItossandturn.IwishIcouldforgethowhewaslookingatmebeforewesaidgoodnight,orthefactthathe’sjustontheothersideofthiswall.Atthesametime,allIwanttodoisthinkabouthim,mystomachchurningwithbutterflies.
Iletmyselfrememberwhatitwaslike,lyingnexttohiminbed,feelinghisstrongarmswrappedaroundme,nuzzlinghisneckandsmellinghisskinasheheldmeclose,safeandwarminourperfectbubble.Irememberhisfacesoclosetomineonthepillowthatournosesweretouchingandhowhe’dlookedatmesointenselybeforecrackingasmile,thecrinklesappearingaroundthecornersofhislips.
Itmayhavebeenalongtimeago,butthosearedetailsI’veneverforgotten,nomatterhowhardI’vetriedto.
Thentheguiltsetsin:Liam.Ididn’teventexthimgoodnightafterclimbingintobed.Ihaven’tspokentohimalldayandhe’smyboyfriend.Wedidn’tmakeplansfortheevening—Iwasn’tsurewhattimeI’dbebackinLondonfromtheinterview,andIdidn’twanthimhangingaroundwaiting—butIprobablyshouldhaveatleastmessagedtosayIwasstayinginManchesteruntiltomorrow.IfeellikeaterriblepersonuntilIconsiderthathehasn’tmessagedmeallday,either.Infact,heneverrepliedafterIsaidhecouldn’tcomeonmyworktriptoFlorence,whichseemsalittleodd.Butit’sstillnoexcuseforfantasizingaboutanotherguy—andnotjustanyguy,butsomeoneIworkwith.SomeoneIhavehistorywith.It’snotfairtoLiam.
I’msuddenlyhitwithanxietyattheideaoffallingforRyanagain.IcantrywithallmymighttopretendthatthatIdon’thavefeelingsforhim,butIdo.IknowIdo.Eventhoughwefightallthetime,eventhoughhepissesmeofftonoend,eventhoughwe’resodifferent,I’mdrawntohim.Again.Havingacrushonacolleagueisneveragoodidea,nottomentionthefactyou’dthinkI’davoidmakingthesamemistakes,buthereIam,underthespellofthoseeyeselevenyearsdowntheline.
Heseemsdifferentnow,though,Itellmyself.MaybeIcanforgivehimforwhathappenedandmoveon.It’salittleembarrassingthatIhaven’talready.
Imean,heboughtmehoneyformytea.
Badpeopledon’tdothat,dothey?
God,IfeelsickwhenIthinkabouthimaskingMaeforhernumbertomorrow.IhavenorighttocareaboutRyan’sdatinglife!ButIdo,Ido,Ido.
Andyouknowwhatdoesn’thelpthesituation?ThatI’mwearingRyan’sT-shirt.Iclutchthematerialinmyfingerslikeateenagerwearingtheirboyfriend’shoodieatahouseparty.
Hebelongstome.
Butthetruthis,hedoesn’t.Heneverhas.
Theminutemyalarmgoesoffinthemorning,IsendLiamamessageaskinghowhisdaywasyesterdayandapologizingforbeingMIA.IexplainthatIhadtostayinManchesterlastminuteandthenaskifwecanmeettonightfordinner.
Wecanhavethetalkthen.I’mgearedupforit,confidentinmydecisionandonlysorrytohurtLiam,whoI’mworriedwillbecaughtoffguard.Whenhesendsacheeryreplybackthathecan’tdotonightashe’sworkingonsomethingswithHaloSkewed,I’mdeflatedanddisappointedthatI’llhavetowaitanylongertobreakthingsoff
Grabbingthetowelfoldedontopofthestoolofthedressingtable,IopenmybedroomdooratthesametimeasRyanopenshis.Webothfreeze.He’sonlywearinghisboxers,hisbroadshoulders,tonedarms,andsculptedabsonfulldisplay.
Whyisthisguyinajobwherehehastowearclothes?!
Whatabloodywaste.
Ifeelincensedonbehalfofswimwearbrandseverywhere.
Hishairruffledfromsleep,heblinksatmewithtiredeyesbeforehislipstwistupintoadozysmile.
“Morning,”hesays.
Itrytosay“Hi,”buthisappearancehasmademymouthincrediblydry,soitsortofcomesoutassomekindofcroak,likethatofatoad.
Sexy.
Iquicklyclearmythroat.“Sorry,hi.Hello.Morning.”
“Youusethebathroomfirst.I’llgoinafteryou.”
“No,youcanuseitfirst.I’mhappytowait.”
Hegesturestothebathroomdoor.“Iinsist.Letmeknowifyouhaveanytroublewithworkingtheshower.It’sprettystraightforward,though.”
“Great,thanks.”
Heturnsroundtogobackintohisroom,andIfindmyselfadmiringhisback,hissmoothmuscledshoulders,theindentofhisspine.Ashisdoorshuts,IgivemyselfashakeandtrytoGet.A.Grip.
OnceI’mready,wearingmynewlypurchasedredZarashirtandthesametaperedtrousersIwaswearingyesterday,Iheaddownstairs,whereSullyjumpsupallovermeandFredrikgreetsmesojoviallyIcan’thelpbutlaugh,takenabackathowwelcomingthishouseis.Hedesperatelytriestogetmetoeatbreakfast,andIhavetorepeatseveraltimesthatI’mreallyjustacoffeepersoninthemornings.Whenit’stimetogo,IcrouchdownonthefloortosaygoodbyetoSullyandpromptlyreceiveascoldingfromEmilythatI’mgoingtogethairallovermytrousers.BeforeRyanandIheadoutthedoortothecar,Fredrikhugsmeandtellsmetolookaftermyself.
“Ihopewe’llseeyouagainsoon,”Emilysaysasshegivesmeakissonthecheek,andsomethingabouthervoicemakesmethinkshereallydoesmeanit.
Butmaybethat’sjusttwistedwishfulthinkingthismorning,becauseI’mstillaffectedfromwearingRyan’sT-shirtandseeinghimtopless?
Aswedrivetotheset,Isitnervouslyinthepassengerseat,tryingmybesttoactnormally,butirrationallyterrifiedthatRyancanreadmymind.Heseemsfine,pointingoutthingsaboutManchesterthatmightinterestmeandwonderingaloudwhattimewe’llgettospeaktoMaxthismorning.
“I’vealsobeenthinking—doyouwanttocomebackwithmeafterward?”
IspinmyheadroundsofastIalmostgivemyselfaneckinjury.
“Asin,IcoulddriveyoubacktoLondonifyouwanted,”heexplains.“Ratherthanyougettingthetrain.I’mheadingtoFinsburyPark,soyou’llbeabletogetontheVictoriaLinetrainallthewaydowntoBrixton.I’dfeelguiltyhavingyouwaitaroundtogetthetrainwhenI’mdrivingthatwayanyway.AndI’llletyouchooseoneortwosongswecanlistentoonthejourney,ifyoulike.”
Ismiledownatmyhandsinmylap.“Verygenerous.Uh…okaythen,Iguessitwouldbehandyjusttojumpinthecarwithyouwhenwefinishup.Aslongasyou’resure.”
Ofcourse,Ishouldhavesaidno.Idon’tknowwhyI’mputtingmyselfthroughmoretorture,acceptinganinvitationlikethis.Plus,ifhedoesendupgettingMae’snumber,hemightwanttotalkaboutthatonthejourneyhome,andI’llhavetolisten.Ineedtogobacktothinkingabouthimasmyirritatingworknemesis.
“Areyouokay?”heasksaswepullintoaparkingspace.
“Yes,”Ireply,flustered.“Whywouldn’tIbe?”
“Youhavethe…youlooktense.”
“YouweregoingtosayIhavethecrinkle,weren’tyou?”
Helaughs,puttingonthehandbrakeandturningtheengineoff.“Seriously,areyouallright?You’vebeenveryquiet.Myparentsdidn’tfreakyouout,didthey?Iknowtheycanbealot.”
“No!No,they’rewonderful,”Itellhimsincerely.“Youhaveanamazingfamily.”
“Good.Areyouworriedaboutthefeature?”
Iblinkathim.“Huh?”
“MaxSj?berg.”
“Oh!Yes,that’sit.I’mworriedabouttheinterview.”
“Noneedtobe,”heassuresme,undoinghisseatbeltandopeningthecardoor.“Youtaketheleadonit.Iwon’tgetinyourway.”
Ileanbackontheheadrestandclosemyeyesforamoment,wishingmyheadandheartweren’tsuchamess,beforeforcingmyselfintoworkmode,hoppingoutofthecarreadytositdownwithabrilliantactor.
Unfortunately,myzestfortheinterviewisatadpremature—Maxhasanotherbusydayoffilminglinedup,andMaeisdoingherbesttoworkoutatimetosqueezeusin.Wedon’tgetourhandsonhimuntiltheafternoon,andbythenhe’sexhaustedandgrouchy.Sittinginatrailerincostume,heleansback,hiselbowsrestingonthearmsofhischair.HewatchesmesuspiciouslywhileIpresstheRecordbuttononmydigitalvoicerecorderandflipthroughmynotebooktoablankpage.
“Howlongwillthistake?”heasksgruffly,lookingtowardMae,whoislingeringinthedoorway.Nexttome,Ryanshiftshisweightuncomfortably.
ButI’mnotfazedbyhisattitude.Igetthisallthetime.
“Wewon’ttakeupmuchofyourtime,”Ipromiseconfidently.“Thesefilmingdaysgetlong,don’tthey?Buttheycan’tbeaslongastheonesyouhadtodoonthesetofAmbition.”
Heraiseshiseyebrowsinpleasantsurprise.“Now,thatwasalongtimeago.”
“Didn’tyouhavetofilmallthroughthenight,likethreedaysinarow?”
“Fourdaysinarow,”hecorrects,strokinghischinashethinksbackonit.“Noteasyforakidoftenyearsold.”
“Ireadthatyoufellasleepunderapileofcoatswaitingforyourscene.”
“Andgotsatonbythelate,greatBillOlin,”hechuckles,hisexpressionsoftening.“Hewasafineactor,butIstillwouldn’trecommendgettingsatonbyyourheroes.”
“Sageadvice.”
Hesmileswarmlyatme.“Ihaven’tthoughtaboutthatfilminawhile.”
“Iwatcheditrecently.”
“Yes?”
“It’sstillsorelevant.”
“Hmm.”Henods.“Well,whenyougetagreatwriterlikeMargit,thentheworktendstoresonatethroughgenerations;thethemesaboutheartbreakandhowcruelitcanfeelthatlifesimplygoesonafterlosingsomeone…theworldaroundusmaychange,buttheseexperiencesarecommongroundforall.Youcangobackcenturiesandtheartthen,itreflectsthesameemotionsoftheartproducednow.It’samazing,really,howlittlepeoplehavechanged.Weareallconnected.”
“BlueLightsplaysonthat,doesn’tit?Thepastconnectingwiththepresent.”
“Yes,Ithinkyou’reright.Butagain,it’sthewritingoftheshowthatisitsstrength—theinvestigationdrivestheplot,butsurroundingityouhavethesecompellingnarratives:thefamiliesaffectedbythemurders,theirgriefanddesperationforanswers,thetangledrelationships,andthewiderrepercussionsofeachindividualdecision.IthinksomanyprojectsnowaretooheavilywrappedupinCGIandspecialeffects,andsomeofthemareverygood,butreally,whatstillresonateswithanaudienceisastorythatfocusesonpeople.”
IglanceupasIscribblenotes.“Thewritingisveryimportanttoyou,then.”
“Unbelievablyso.IhavetheluxuryofbeingabletochoosewhichprojectsIwanttodo,andIonlyaccepttheoneswherethewritinggripsme.That’sthebarebones.”
“Andyourownwriting?”
Helooksatmesuspiciously.“Myownwriting?”
“I’mjustcuriousastowhetheryou’dbetemptedtowritesomethingyourself.Youhavementionedbeforethatit’ssomethingyou’vethoughtabout.”
Hebreaksintoasmallsmile.“You’vedoneyourresearch.Ican’tremembertalkingaboutthattothepressrecently.”
“Irememberthingsthatinterestme—yousaiditinaninterviewwithGQonce.”
“DidI?Well,IsupposeIcanadmitthatI’vedoneabitmorethanthinkaboutit.I’mcurrentlywritingadramasetinStockholm.”
“AndIcanmentionthatinthepiece?”Iaskexcitedly.
“Yes,althoughthereactiontoitterrifiesme.”
I’msurprisedatthisadmission.“Really?”
“There’ssomethingmorevulnerableaboutwritingthanacting,Ifind,”heexplains.“There’snopretense.You’reputtingyoursoullaidbareonthepage.ButI’veenjoyedtheprocess.TheresearcharoundStockholmwasinteresting,andIlearnedalotaboutmyhometown.”
“Ah,well,IhaveneverbeentoStockholm,butmycolleaguehereishalf-Swedish,andhisfamilylivesthere,”Isay,gesturingtoRyan.
“Isthatso?”Maxsays,hiseyeslightingupasheturnshisattentiontoRyan.“Youshouldhavesaid!Tellme,whereaboutsdotheylive?”
ThejourneyhomeisnowherenearasexcruciatingasIimaginedbecausebothRyanandIareonahighoverhowwelltheinterviewwent.Wegotwaymorecontentthanwe’regoingtoneed—MaeevenhadtopolitelyinterrupttosayourtimewasupandMaxwasneededbackonset,whichheactuallylookedalittledisappointedabout.WepartedwayswithhimtellingmeitwasanabsolutepleasureandremindingRyantopassalongthoseStockholmrestaurantrecommendationshegavehim.
“Ican’tbelievehowlongyoutalkedaboutStockholm,”IlaughaswezipdowntheM6backtowardLondon.“Ithoughtwe’dbethereallday.”
“Timeflieswhenyou’rehavingfun.”Hegrins.“WhenMaxSj?bergisanimated,youdonotcuthimoff.”
“Totallyagree.Andanyway,it’sbrilliantforthepiece.Hewassopassionate.Ihavetoadmit,I’mgladyouwerethere—hecamealivewhenhewasspeakingtoyouabouthome.”
“Hangon.Areyouadmittingthatmysuggestionthatwewritethepiecetogetherwasagoodone?Isthatwhatyou’resaying,HarperJenkins?”
“I’msayingitmightbe.Don’tgetallcockyaboutit.”
“Iwouldn’tdreamofit.”Hesmilesmischievously,glancingatmebeforereturninghiseyestotheroadahead.“Anyway,Ican’ttakecreditforhisgoodmood.Thatwasallyou.Thewayyouputhimateaserightaway,withouthimevenrealizingwhatyouweredoing?Masterful.”
“Iwassimplyhavingaconversation.”
“Seriously,Harper,it’samazing.IfeelhonoredIgottoseeyouinaction.”
“Likewise,”Isaywarmly.
Heseemspleased.“So,doyouwanttoplotthestructureofthearticleandthenyoucouldmaybesendthatdocumentoverandwecanworkouthowtogetwriting—”
“Whoa,whoa,”Iinterrupt.“Whatdoyoumean‘plotthestructure’?Whatdocumentareyoutalkingabout?”
Hegivesmeastrangelook.“Youknow,youplotoutanarticlebeforeyouwriteit.”
Isnort.“Whodoesthat?”
“Everyone?”heanswers,baffled.
“Idon’t,”Iinformhimproudly.
“Howcanyoupossiblywriteapiecewithoutworkingoutthestructurefirst?”
“Easy.Youstartwritingandgofromthere.”
Ienjoywatchinghimstruggletocomprehendthisapproach,hismouthopeningandclosing,hiseyebrowsknittedtogether.
“Hangon,”hesays,tappingafingeronthesteeringwheel.“Youjustlaunchintowriting?Withoutplanningitout…atall?”
“It’snotthatbigofadeal,”Ilaugh,restingmyelbowonthesideofthedoor.
“Howdoyouknowwhereallthequotesaregoingtogo?”heasks,soundingalmostpanicked.“Howdoyouknowitwillflownicely?Howdoyoumakesureyoudon’trepeatyourself?Howdoyouknowwhereitwillstartandhowitwillend?”
Ishrug.“Idon’tknow.Istartwritingand…gowithit.”
“Gowithit,”herepeats,bewildered.“Butyourfirstdraftmustbe…acompletejumble!”
“Usually,yes,”Iadmit.“It’sallovertheshop.ButthenIrewriteit.”
“Sowouldn’titsaveyoualotoftimeandhassleifyouplotteditoutfirst?”
“Itwouldstiflethecreativityofmywriting,”Iinsistwithaflourishofmyhands.“IfIstructureditfirst,mysentenceswouldbeallforcedandstilted.Bettertoletitflowontothepageandthensortitoutlater.”
Heshakeshishead,lookingcompletelythrownbythisrevelation.
“Weallhaveadifferentprocess,Ryan,”Iremindhim,chucklingathisexpression.
“Iguesswedo,”headmits.
“Youshouldalreadybewell-versedwithmine.Asyousaid,it’snotthefirsttimewe’vewrittenapiecetogether.”
Herunsahandthroughhishairbeforecrackingasmile.“Imusthaveforcedmyselftoforgetthetraumaofwitnessingyourprocessthelasttime.”
Ilaughandwefallintocomfortablesilence.Icheckmyphone,scrollingthroughsomeworkemailsthatImissedyesterdayandreplyingtoMimi’sWhatsAppsaskingmehowtheinterviewwentandwhetherRyanandIhavekilledeachotheryet.
“Doyouwanttohaveadrinkatmine?”Ryansuddenlyasks.
Ijerkmyheadupfrommyphone.“Sorry?”
“WhenwegetbacktoLondon,”hesays,lookingstraightahead,hisbrowfurrowed.“It’sbeenalongcoupleofdaysforbothofus,andIdon’tknowaboutyou,butIcouldreallyuseadrink.Ithinkwe’veearnedit.”
Ifeelmyheartsoar.“Iguesswehave.”
“Ihaveareallynicewineinthefridgethatoneofmypretentiousfriendsboughtmelasttimehecamefordinner.Wecouldcrackthatopen,ifyoufancyit,”hesayshurriedly,lookingalittleflustered.“Myflatisneartothestation,soeasyforyoutogethome.Orwecouldgotothepubifyou’drather?Or,youmayactuallyhaveplansbecauseit’saSaturdaynightandwhywouldn’tyou?Youcantellmetoshutupatanypoint.”
“Idon’thaveanyplans,”Isay,laughing.“Andapretentiousbottleofwinesoundsrightupmystreet.Thanks.”
Henods,smilingatmyresponse,thelinesonhisforeheadfading,andaflurryoftinglesrunsthroughmyentirebody.Iturnawaytolookoutthewindow,myjawachingfromtryingnottogrineartoear.
God,I’mhavingthatdizzyingrushofadrenalineyougetwhenthepersonyoulikeshowssignsoflikingyoubackandyouletyourimaginationrunwild,picturingthempullingyoucloseandkissingyou.Myfacegrowshot,andIrubthebackofmyneck,forcingmyselftorememberthatthisisjustadrink.Itdoesn’tmeananything.
It’squitealongdrivebacktoLondon,andbythetimeRyanparksnearhisflat,I’mhappytojumpoutandstretch,thankinghimforthelift.HenoticesmylookofsurprisewhenheleadsmetoaVictorianhouse,gettingouthiskeys.
“What?”hesays,pushingthroughthegateandholdingitopenforme.
“Itsoundsstupid,butIpicturedyouinabigapartmentblock.”
Hehesitatesbeforeofferingashysmile.“That’snotstupid—Iusedtoliveinone,backwhenwe…firstmet.Remember?”
“Yes,”Isay,blushing.“Iremember.”
“Imovedhereacoupleofyearsago.”
Heslidesthekeyintothefrontdoorandheadsintoasharedhallway,usheringmeinandpickingupsomeofthepostontheflooraddressedtohim,beforeunlockingthedoorontheright.There’soneotherdoorstraightahead.
“Thisisjusttwoflats,then?”Iask
“Yeah,I’mthegroundfloorandthenaguyinhistwentieslivesintheflatabove.He’sgreat—arealcomputergeek.HeworksforApple.VeryhandywheneverIhaveanytechnicalproblems.”
Heswingsopenthedoorandgesturesformetogoinahead.Istepinsideandamimmediatelystruckbyhowspaciousandtidyitis.ConsideringthetraditionalVictorianexterior,it’sverymodern,renovatedsothatthekitchenandlivingroomareopenplan,withsmartwoodenflooringandamazingfloor-to-ceilingwindowsatthebackthatlookontoasmallgarden.
Alightgraycornersofafacesawideflat-screenTVhangingonthewallaboveafireplacethat’sbeenpainteddarkgray,andthere’saglasscoffeetableinthemiddlewithanunusedthree-wickwhitecandlesetperfectlyinthecenterofit.EithersideoftheTV,thewallsarelinedwithshelvesofbooks—andoncloserinspectionInoticethatthebooksareinalphabeticalorderaccordingtotheauthor’ssurname.
“Somethingsdon’tchange,”ImurmurundermybreathasRyangoesstraighttothefridge.
“Whatwasthat?”
“Nothing!”Ireply,scanningtheshelves.“Thisplaceisamazing.”
“Yeah,Igotlucky.Itbelongstoafriendofminefromuni,whomovedtoNewYorktosetupanewofficeforhiscompany.Heletsmepaymaterates.There’snowayIcouldaffordthisonajournalist’ssalary.Thelocationisgreat,too.”
“Itreallyis.Andyoukeepitverytidy.”
Hechuckles.“You’vemetmydad,soyouknowwhereIgetitfromnow.Letmeguess,yourflatisalittlemore…chaotic?”
“It’screative.”
“Muchlikeyourdesk.”
Itearmyeyesawayfromthebookswiththeintentionoffollowinghimintothekitchen,wherehe’spouringthewine,whensomethingcatchesmyeye:aframednewspaperarticlehangingontheoppositewallnearthedoor.Idon’tknowhowImisseditwhenIfirstcamein;Iwasdistractedbythebigopenspace,Isuppose.ButIrecognizeitstraightaway.
“Ohmygod!”Iexclaim,breakingintoagrinasIgetupclosetoadmireit.“Ryan!”
“Ohyeah.That,”hesayssheepishly,strollingoverandplacingthetwoglassesofwinedownonthecoffeetablebeforecomingtostandnexttome.
“Ican’tbelieveyoustillhavethis.Andyougotitframed!”
Heshrugs.“Yeah,well.Itwasmyfirst-everarticleinapaper.Myfirst-everbyline.”
“Minetoo.”
“Iknow.”
Sidebyside,wegazeattheframedDailyBulletinarticlethatwaspublishedin2012.It’sbeenalongtimesinceI’veseenit,butthereitis,thefirsttimeRyanandIeverhadournamesinprint:
THEBESTPICNICSPOTSINLONDON
CompiledbyHarperJenkinsandRyanJansson
Thedaythisarticlewaspublishedwas,Isuppose,thedayRyanandIofficiallybecamejournalists.Anditwasthedaythateverythingbetweenusfellapart.
AUGUST2012
ThelastdayoftheinternshipisWednesdayandthat’sthedayI’mcalledtoMartha’soffice.WeonlyinterviewedonFriday,butit’sfeltlikeaverylongwaittofindoutwhetherornotwe’vegotthejob,whichMarthaacknowledgesassoonasshe’stoldmethatIdidn’tgetit.
“AndI’msorrythatit’stakenthislongtotellyou,butIwantedtodoitinpersonbecauseyou’vebeensuchagreatinternandI’vebeenawayonapresstrip.Anemailseemedtooimpersonal,”shesays,herhandsclaspedtogetherinfrontofheronthedesk.“Iwanttoreiterate,Harper,thatyouhavebeenafantasticadditiontotheteamandIhavenodoubtthatyouwillmakeitinthisindustry.Butinthisinstance,wefeltRyanwasjustthatbitbettersuitedtotherole.”
Inod.“Iunderstand.”
“IpromiseyouIwillgiveyouaglowingreference.We’regoingtomissyoursunshinypersonalityaroundhere!”
“Thanks,”Isay,managingasmile.“Andthankyoufortheopportunity.”
Ileaveheroffice,distraughtbutdeterminedtobehappyforRyan.Iknowthatifitwastheotherwayround,he’ddothesameforme.Hedeservesthisjob,maybemorethanIdo,andhe’sgoingtobebrilliantatit.Ican’tresenthimforthat.Idon’twanttoresenthimforthat.Idon’tknowwhatweareyet,butweseemtobesomething.Forthelastcoupleofdays,he’sbeengrabbingmeforsecretkissesinthekitchenwhennoone’slooking,sendingmeflirtatiousmessageswhilesittingrightnexttome,andmakingmehoneyteaeachafternoonatexactlythreeo’clock.EverymorningI’vebeenwakingupexcitedtoseehim.
It’sbothstrangeandwonderfulhowquicklyandeasilyI’veallowedmyselftobecompletelyconsumedbymyfeelingsforhim.
Idecidetogostraightovertocongratulatehim.HewascalledtoMartha’sofficerightbeforeme,sohe’llknowIdidn’tgetthejob,and,nomatterhowhappyheisthathe’sgotit,I’msurehe’llbeworryingaboutmyreaction.
BeforeIgetovertoourdesks,CeliacatchesmeonherwaytothekitchenandinsistsIjoinher,loopingherarmthroughmine.
“I’msosorry,Harper,Ireallywasrootingforyou,”shesays,stoppingbythekettleandgivingmeahug.“Ifitwasuptome,youwouldhavebeentheclearwinner.”
“Thanks,Celia.Thatmeansalot.”
“IfanythingcomesupatFlair,I’llbeintouch,okay?”
Ismile,reachingforherhandandsqueezingit.“That’ssokindofyou,thanks.”
Shesighs.“Ifyouwantmypersonalopinion—andI’monlysayingthisbecausewe’rebothleaving—IthinkMarthashouldhavetakenabitmoretimewiththedecision-makingprocess,youknow?It’slikeshemadeasnapdecision,andI’msureitwillbiteherinthearse.She’sgoingtoregretnotkeepingyouon.”
“Thanks,butitwasn’texactlyasnapdecision,”Ipointout.“Ittookheralmostfivedaystotellus.”
“No,shetoldRyanonFridayevening,likehalfanhourafteryourinterview,”sheinformsme,rollinghereyes.“Although,Idohavesomegoodnewsforyou.Haveyouseenthepapertoday?Yourpicnicpieceisinthere!Sothat’ssomething.Yourfirstbyline!Exciting,right?”
Ifreeze.Shemustbemistaken.Ryancouldn’thaveknownthiswholetime.Hecouldn’thave.Itwouldbetoo…humiliating.Shemusthavegottenthatwrong.
LeavingCeliainthekitchen,Iwalktowardourdesks,slowlyatfirst,butthenIbreakintoadeterminedmarch,desperatetohearRyandenywhatshe’sjusttoldme.HelooksupfromhisscreenasIappearnexttohimandlookspained.
“Harper—”
“DidyoufindoutonFriday?”
Heblinksatme,takenbysurprise.“W-what?”
“DidyoufindoutaboutthejobonFriday,Ryan?”
Hiseyesdroptothefloor.Hedoesn’tsayanything.Hedoesn’thaveto.Iknowwhatthatmeans.Iturnonmyheelandwalkawayfromhim,overwhelmedbytheneedtogetoutofthatbuilding.
“Harper,wait,”hesays,hurryingtokeepupwithmeaswepassthereporterstoobusywiththeirstoriestonoticeanotherspatbetweentheinterns.Idon’tbothertowaitfortheelevator,notwantingtobeinsuchclosequarterswithhim,soIracedownthestairs,burstingintothelobbyandthroughtheswiveldoorsoutintothecoldwhereit’sstartedtodrizzle.
“Harper,”IhearhimcalloutbehindmeasIquicklywipethetearsfrommycheeks,“pleaselistentome.Icouldn’ttellyou—”
“Youliedtome.Thiswholetime,youlied.Doyouknowhowmortifyingthisis?HowembarrassedIfeelrightnow?Iwaslyinginyourbedtalkingabouthowmuchthejobmeanttomeand…thewholetimeyouknew.”
“I’msosorry,”hesays,desperatelytryingtograbmyhandasIrecoilfromhim.“I’msorry.ShecalledmeonFridaynight,andIknewifItoldyou,youwouldn’twanttospendtimewithme.Andwewerefinallyhavingfuntogether.IfI’dsaidanything,youwouldhaveleftthatpubstraightaway,Iknowit.”
“Ohmygod,thatphonecallyougotatthepub.”Ipushmydamphairawayfrommyeyesasitstartsstickingtomyforeheadfromtherain.“Youknewthen,beforewe’devenorderedourdrinks.”
“Pleaseforgiveme,Harper,shetoldmenottosayanything,thatshewantedtotellyouherself.Itwashorriblekeepingthisfromyou,butI—”
“Youspentthewholeweekendlying.”
“No!”
“ItoldyouthingsthatI…ohmygod,I’msuchanidiot.”
“No,Harper,please,”hesays,hisvoicecracking.“Ididn’twanttoruineverything.”
“Everythingisruined,Ryan.Itrustedyou.Iwaswrong.”
Ileavehimoutsideintherainandgobackinside.It’salmosttheendoftheday,soIpullmyselftogetherintheloostosaymygoodbyestotheteam,laughingatandapologizingformybedraggledlookasIexplainIwascaughtintherainonthehuntforadecentcoffee.Then,withoutlookingRyanintheeye,Ipackupmythingsatmydesk.Helurksmiserablynearbythewholetime,anyattempttotalktomeignored.Butwitheveryonewatching,ImusterthespoonfulofprofessionalismIhavelefttoholdoutmyhandtohim.
“Goodluck,Ryan.Theteamisluckytohavesomeonesohardworkingandhonestjoiningthempermanently.Exactlywhatagoodjournalistshouldbe.”
Visiblystung,heshakesmyhanddismally.
Withafinalwave,IwalkoutofTheDailyBulletinforthelasttime.AssoonasI’maloneintheelevator,IgetoutmyphoneandblockRyan’snumber.
Withanyluck,I’llneverseehimagain.CHAPTERSIXTEEN
IstareatthearticleonRyan’swall,lostinahazeofmemories.
I’vespentthelastelevenyearsconvincedthatRyan’sbetrayalprovedthathewassneakyandconniving.Butstandinghere,I’mrealizingthatwewerejustkids.Bothofuswerestumblingthroughthemurkybitofreallifethatcomesstraightatyoutheminuteyouleaveschooloruniversity—themomentwhere,suddenly,you’reonyourown.Weweretryingtofindourfooting.WhenIthinkaboutit,IlovedmyexperienceatTheDailyBulletin,andI’mgratefulthatIeventuallyendedupatFlair,whereImetMimianddiscoveredthatmyinterestinpopcultureandcelebritycouldactuallybecomemycallingcard.I’mgladthingshappenedhowtheydid.
Idon’twanttobemadatRyananymore.Iwant…
“You’resmiling,”Ryanremarks,interruptingmythoughts.Irealizethathe’sbeenwatchingmewithanexpressionofconcern.
“I’mremembering,”Iinformhim,noddingtothearticle.
“Iwouldn’thavethoughtthatwouldmakeyousmile.”
“Youthoughtwrong,then.Whowouldn’thavefondmemoriesofphotocopyingandhoursoftranscribing?”
Herelaxes,asmalllaughemittingfromhislips.“God,thetranscribing.Itreallyisoneoftheworstpartsofourjob.”
“Whichiswhyyou’llbedoingitforourMaxSj?berginterview,”Isay,promptinghimtogivemealookthatsays,Nicetry.“Doyouremembervisitingallthepicnicspots?”
“I’llneverforgetit.Iwassonervous.”
“Why?”
“BecauseIwasgoingtobespendingawholedaywithyououtsideofwork,andIdidn’treallyknowhowtobearoundyou,”headmitscoolly.“Youweren’tmybiggestfan.”
“Wewereincompetitionwitheachotherforthejob,andyouwereinfuriatingintheoffice.”Ipause,addingwithamischievoussmile,“Whichhasn’treallychanged.”
“I’mtheinfuriatingone?Haveyouseenyourdesk?”
“Ryan,you’reabrokenrecord.Youhavegottocarelessaboutthestateofmydesk.”
“Ihavetolookoniteverysingleday.Youhavenoideahowmuchitstressesmeout.”
“Iknowexactlyhowmuchitstressesyouout,”Iretortcheerily.“It’swrittenalloveryourfacewheneveryousitdown.”
“AndhereIwasthinkingIwashardtoread.”
“Nottome.”
Hepauses,thoseocean-blueeyesfixedonme,hisexpressionsofteningandmakingaswarmofbutterfliesflutterinmystomach.Iswallow,nervousunderhisintensegaze,theheatrisinginmycheeks.
“WhatwasitlikeintheofficeafterIleft?”Imanagetoask,tryingtokeepthingslight.“Itmusthavebeenniceforeveryonetogetthecoffeestheyactuallyordered.”
“Itwouldhavebeen,buttheinternswhocameinafteruswereshit.”
Iburstoutlaughingathisbluntness.
“Neitherofthemhadanythinglikeourdrive,”hecontinues,aplayfulsmileonhislipsasheenjoysmyreaction.“Theproblemwastheyactuallygotonwell,sotherewasnomotivationforthemtobeattheotherone.TheywereslowwiththeresearchIassignedtothem,tooktheirtimeonthecoffeeruns,andtalkaboutsloppytranscribing.Thenumberoftyposwaslaughable.”
“Isupposewedidmotivateeachother.Ishouldthankyouforthat—CelianeverwouldhavecontactedmelatertooffermetheinterviewatFlairifI’dbeenahalf-assedinternunderherwatchatTheDailyBulletin.”
“Idon’tthinkyouhaveitinyoutobehalf-assedatanything,”Ryancomments.“Exceptpunctuality,whichyoufullydedicateyourselftobeingterribleat,soIsupposethatdoesn’tcount.”
Ichuckle.“Imeanit,though,Ryan.Iknowusgoingupagainsteachotherforthatjobwasn’tideal,butintheenditwasforthebestthatIdidn’tgetit.Iwasn’tmeanttobeareporteratTheDailyBulletin.IwasmuchmoreathomeatamagazinelikeFlair.”
Henods,sayingquietly,“Ifeltsoterriblewhenyouleft.”
Igetastabofguiltathissincerity.
“Youmusthavehatedme,”headds.
“Iwasangryatthesituation,”Isayquickly,notwantingtolingeronthetopic,becauseinallhonesty,Ididhatehimatthetime.“MaybeifI’dhadabetterrelationshipwithmyparents…Goinghometothemafterwaspainful.Thosenextfewweekswereprettybad—Iwassodesperatetomoveout,butthejobatthebarpaidsolittle,andIknewIwasluckytohaveparentslivinginahouseinLondonwhereIcouldstay.WhenCeliacalled,Icriedwithhappiness.AssoonasIwasonthepayroll,ImovedtotheothersideofLondon,awayfromthem.Itallworkedoutintheend!”Ismileupathim.
“Iwenttoyourparents’house,”hesaysquietly.
“When?”
“AcoupleofdaysafteryouleftTheDailyBulletin.IthoughtI’dgiveyousometimetocooloff,thentrytogetyoutotalktome,”headmits.“ButIcouldn’tbringmyselftoringthatbloodydoorbell.Asusual,Ididn’thavetheconfidence.”
Histhroatbobsasheswallows.
Istareathim,stunnedbythisadmission.“Ican’tbelieveyoucametothehouse.”
“Ididn’tlingerlikeaweirdstalkeroranything,Ipromise.”
“No,it’snot…Iwasn’tthinkingthat,”Istammer.“I’mjustsurprisedyoubothered.”
Hefrowns.“Whatmakesyousaythat?”
“Idon’tknow.IassumedyouforgotallaboutmethesecondIwasgone.”
Heblinksatme.“Harper,areyoubeingserious?”
“Well,yougotthejobwebothwantedandwhathappenedbetweenus…itwasafling,”Isaywithawaveofmyhand.“Ifiguredthatyouwerefocusedonyourcareerandthatweekendwasablip.God,IwassopanickedwhenyougotthatjobatTheCorrespondence.DidyouknowwhenyoustartedtherethatIwasthecelebrityeditoratNarrative?”
Henods,hiseyesfixedonme.“Yeah,Idid.”
“Well,atleastyouwerepreparedtobumpintome,then.Musthavebeennicetohavesomewarning,”Ilaughnervously.“WhenIspottedyouinthenewsroom,Ididn’tknowwhattodowithmyself.Atfirst,Iwasn’tsureifyou’drememberme,andthenwhenIrealizedyoudid,Ithoughtitwaseasiertopretendwe’dnevermet.Saveourselvestheembarrassmentof…well,thinkingbacktothattimeandeverythingthathadhappened.”
“Harper,”hegroans,runningahandthroughhishair,“whenyousaystufflikethat,itmakesme…youthoughtthatImightnotrememberyou?”
“Isupposewedidsitnexttoeachotherforeightweeks,”Iadmit.
Hisjawtensesandhedoesn’tsayanything,breathingindeeplythroughhisnoseasthoughhe’ssteadyinghimself.Heturns,takingafewpacesawayfrommedeepinthoughtbeforestoppingstillandspinningbacktoaddressme,hisbrowfurrowedinwhatlookslikeamixtureofconfusionandfrustration.
“YouhonestlythoughttherewasachanceIwouldhave…forgotten?”heasksindisbelief,hischeeksflushedinanger.
I’mtakenabackbythesuddenchangeinhisdemeanor,staringathim,startled.
“Itwasalongtimeago,”Istammer.“Okay,somaybeIknewthatyou’dprobablyrecognizeme,butitwasn’tlikeitwasabigthingthathappenedbetweenus.Itwasjustoneweekend,it’snotlikeitwas—”Isearchforthewords,wavingmyhandsthroughtheair“—agrandaffair.Youknow,Iwasjustafellowinternwithyou.Alot’shappenedsincethen;youmightnothavebeenabletoplaceme.”
Hethrowshisheadbackandletsouta“Ha,”exasperationfloodinghisfeatures.
“Afellowintern,”herepeatsbreathlessly,shakinghisheadashepacesbackandforthinfrontofme,asthoughI’mnoteventhereandhe’stalkingtohimself.“That’swhatyouthoughtIsawyouas.Justafellowintern.”
“Ryan,”Ibegin,baffledbyhisagitatedbehavior,“what’s—”
“Iwascrazyaboutyou,”heinterrupts,hiseyesflashingatmeashestopsshort.
Mybreathcatchesinmythroat.
“Iwascrazyaboutyou,”heemphasizesagain,loudlyandurgently,asthoughhecan’tholditinanylonger.“Itoldyou.Rightfromthemomentwemet,Iwas—”Hethrowshishandsup,flusteredashesearchesfortherightwords.Hesighs,loweringhisvoice.“Thatweekendelevenyearsago,whathappenedbetweenus,itwaswhatI’dbeenwaitingforthatwholesummer.Iwassuchanidiottolietoyou,Harper.ButIwantedyousobadlyandIknewthatyouwouldn’tgoforthatdrinkwithme…notifyouknewIhadthejob.”
Hepauses,eyesclosing,asifthememorypainshim.“God,itwassoshit.Itriedtoexplainittoyouthedayyouleft,butyoudidn’twanttohearit.Youhavenoideawhatitwaslikewithoutyouinthatofficeonceyou’dleft.Icouldn’tbeartheideathatyouwereoutthere,hatingme.Ikepttryingtocallandmessageyou—”
“Iblockedyou,”Iwhisper.
“Iknewthat.”Helooksdejected.“IknewhowmuchI’dfuckedup.I’dlosttheonlypersonI’deverreally…”
Iwaitforhimtofinishhissentence,buthedoesn’t,hiseyesmovingbacktotheframedarticleonthewall.Helookslostforamoment.
“You’deverreallywhat?”Ipromptgently.
Hesighs,butdoesn’tsayanything.
Ican’thelpmyself.Ireachoutandbrushmyfingersagainsthissothathe’lllookatmeagain,andwhenhedoes,hisforeheadcreasesandhiseyessearchmine.
Eversoslightly,Itiltmyheaduptowardhis.
It’sthepermissionheneeds.
Hisfingerssweepsoftlyalongmycheekbonebeforecuppingmyfaceashemovestoclosethegapbetweenus,bowinghishead,hiseyelashesloweringashisnosesoftlynudgesthesideofmine.Mylipspartandashebrusheshislipsagainstmine,Iclosemyeyes,myhandsreachingroundthebackofhisneckashisslidedowntomywaist,pullingmeclosertohim.Hepresseshismouthtomine,softandtentativeatfirstasthoughtosavorit,butIkisshimbackharder,andheimmediatelyreciprocates,deepeningthekiss,movingmebackagainstthewall.Iinhalesharplyashemoveshismouthtomyneck,runninghislipsdowntomycollarbone,hiswarmhandsfindingtheirwaybeneaththefabricofmytop,warmagainstmybareskin.Idon’twanthimtostop.Idon’twantthistostop.
Butthetiniestniggleatthebackofmybrainmakesmereachdownandwrapmyfingersaroundhiswrists.
“Wecan’t,”Ihearmyselfwhispering
“Harper,”hegrowls,hiswarmbreathticklingmyneck.
“Ican’t,”Isay,firmerthistime.“Ihaveaboyfriend.”
Ryanexhalesshakilyandthenabruptlypullsaway,leavingmeflatagainstthewallandfeelingsuddenlyvulnerable.Icrossmyarms,watchingasheturnsfromme.Hegoestothetablebythesofa,wherethetwoglassesofwinehavebeenleftuntouched.Hepicksoneupandswigsfromitbeforedaringtolookatme.
“Youwanttobewithhim,”hestatescoldly.
“No!”Iexclaim,myeyeswideninginhorrorathimmistakingmymeaning.“No,butcheatingisn’tmystyle.I’mprettysureitisn’tyours,either.Ineedtogoseehimand…talk.”
Ryanshakeshishead.“Pleasedon’tgotohimtonight,Harper.”
“Ihaveto.Thisisn’tfair.”
Hedoesn’tsayanything,hisjawclenching,andafteramomenthetakesanotherlargegulpofwine.Myheadspinningfromthewhirlwindoftonight,Igotopickupmybag.
“Letmesorteverythingwithhimandthen…”
“Andthen?”heasks,asIfalter.
“Thenwe’llgofromthere,”isallIcanthinkoftosay.
Hegivesasharpnod,hislipspressingtogetherintoathinlineuntilthey’veallbutdisappeared.Iwalkovertohimandreachuptogivehimakissonthecheek.Ilingerthereandheangleshisfacetowardmineasthoughdaringmetomakeamove.
WhileIstillhaveanywillpowerleft,Ibreakawayfromhimandwalkovertohisdoor,openingitandsteppingoutintotheeveningairwithoutlookingback.
EverythingispullingmetowardRyan,everyinchofmybodyscreamingtoreturntohisarms.Butmymoralcompasshasclaweditswaybacktoleadthecharge,andIknowthatasterribleasIfeelaboutleavingthisway,I’mdoingtherightthing.I’vealreadykissedsomeoneelseand—worsethanthat—IknowIhavefeelingsforhim.StrongfeelingsthatIcan’tsuppress.Notafterthatkiss,anyway.
Bloodyhell,whatakiss.
Sittingonthetube,Ican’tstopthinkingaboutRyan,almostmissingthestopwhereIchangeontotheNorthernLinetogettoLiam’sflat.Thatkisswasamazing.Itwasmorethanthat.Itwasmind-blowing.Noonehaseverkissedmelikethatbefore.I’mnotsureI’veeverfeltthatwanted.Thatneeded.
EverythingaboutRyanmakesmedizzywithexcitement:thewayhesmiles;theclean,freshmasculinescentofhiscologne;hisbroadshouldersandstrongarms;thosedazzlingblueeyes.Butalsothewayhemakesmefeel;thewayhenoticesthingsaboutme;thewayhelooksatme…
Ican’tbelievehecametomyparents’houseafterourfight.I’dfeltsohumiliatedandbetrayedthatitwaseasiertowritethosefewdaysoffasastupidmistake—Ihadlostmyselfforaweekendinasillyfairytaleromancethatwasn’treal.AsfarasIwasconcerned,Ryanhadplayedhispartasthedevilishlyhandsomeadversary-turned-loverwithperfectfinesse.Hehadsaidalltherightthingstohavehisfunforaweekend,andthenhewasrightbacktofocusingonhisownendscomeMondaymorning.I’dtoldmyselfIwasstupidforbeingsona?veastothinkthataguylikehimwouldputagirllikemefirst.
ItwaseasiertothinkthatwaybecauseIwassoangryandembarrassed.Anditwasplausible,too—Ryanisthesortofhandsomethatmakespeopledoadoubletake.TheonlyreasonanyonewouldlooktwiceatmeisifIfelloverbecauseIwasinarush,lateforwhereverIneededtobe.
Butnow,asIwalktoLiam’sflatfromthetubestation,IconsiderwhatI’dhavedoneifIhadbeeninRyan’sshoes—ifwe’dgoneforthatdrinkandthenithadbeenmewhogotthephonecalltosayI’dgotthejob.WouldIhavetoldhim,knowingI’druinthenight?Especiallyif,asheclaims,therewerefeelingsalreadythereinthemix?Woulditevenbemyplacetotellhimhehadn’tgottenthejob?
TurningthecornerontoLiam’sroad,Iforcemyselftofocusonwhat’scomingnext.
I’llbreakupwithLiam,kindlyandrespectfully,andthenIwillgohomeandhaveabathandgetmyheadsorted.OnceI’veworkedoutexactlywhatIwanttosaytoRyan,I’llpophimamessageandgoroundtoseehimtotalkthingsthrough.
It’sasensible,grown-upplan.
NearingLiam’sbuilding,Istarttofeelsickwithnerves.BreakupsarehorribleandIhatetheideaofhurtinghim.Noneofthisishisfault,it’scompletelyonme,andIcanonlyhopethatherealizessoonerratherthanlaterthatwe’renotmeanttobe.EvenifRyanhadn’tcomeintomylife,LiamandIwouldnothaveworkedout.Thecharityballhadbeenaneye-opener,andhonestly,Ireallydidn’tlikethewayhekepttryingtomixourbusinesslives.Thisbreakupisforthebest.
SomeoneisexitinghisblockofflatsasIarrive,andIcatchthedoor,sothere’snoneedformetoringthebellforhimtoletmeup.Istartclimbingthestairsapprehensively,wonderingifhe’llevenbehome.HedidsayhewasworkingonsomethingwithHaloSkewedtonight,buthemightbebackfromhismeetingwiththembynow.Andifnot,hisflatmatemightbein,soIcanalwayswaituntilhe’sback.
Ireachhisfloorandwalkslowlyalongthelanding,myheartpoundingagainstmychestasItrytofocusonwhatI’mgoingtosayexactly.There’snoeasywaytobreakupwithsomeone.Ijusthavetokeepitsimpleandcalm.
Approachinghisdoor,Ihearmusiccomingfrominsideandinstantlyfeelawashwithdread.He’sprobablyhome.That’swhatIwant,Itellmyself,it’sagoodthinghe’shome.It’slikepullingoffaBand-Aid.It’sunpleasantandpainful,butit’sanecessity.
IliftmyhandtoknockonthedoorbutpausewhenIhearavoiceintherefloatingabovethemusic.It’ssomeonelaughing,butnotLiam,norhismaleflatmate.
It’sawoman.
HershrillgigglesaresoonaccompaniedbyLiam’sboominglaughthatIrecognizeimmediately.Iwaitforabitlongertoknock,turningmyheadandpressingmyearupagainstthedoor.Listeningtotheirmuffledconversation,largelyobscuredbytheguitar-ledcrooningmusic,I’malmostcertainthatthere’sjustthetwooftheminthere.TheirvoicesstopafterawhileandallIcanhearisthemusic,theirconversationobviouslycomingtoanendforonereasonoranother.
Interesting.
Takingadeepbreath,Iknockonthedoor.
Therearefootstepsandthenitswingsopen.Liamstandsinthedoorwaywearingnothingbutpajamabottoms.Hishairistousled,stickingupinanunrulymanner,andhehasatelltaletintofpinkacrosshislips,thekindleftbehindfromlipstick.Hiseyeswideninhorrorwhenheseesmestandingthere.
“H-Harper,”hestutters.
Hebeginstosaysomethingelse,butIpushpasthimintotheflattofindaraven-hairedwomansittingonhissofainagorgeoussetoflacytealunderwearandoneofhisshirtsthrownoverthetop.She’sclutchingahalf-drunkbottleofbeerandsitsboltuprightasImarchin,wrappingtheshirtacrossherchestasquicklyaspossible.Irecognizeherfromthecharityball—shewasthewomanthatLiamleftwiththatnight
“Harper,it’snotwhatitlookslike,”Liamclaims,appearingnexttome,hisbarefeetslidingacrossthefloor.“ThisisBianca,theleadsingerofHaloSkewed.LikeItoldyou,wewereworkingtonightonbandstuffandthen…uh…wethought…wethoughtwewould—”
“Havesex?”Ifinishforhim.
Hewinces.“No!No,no,no,no,no.”
“Yes,”Biancacorrectswithasigh.Iturntoher,impressed.
“Bianca!”hehisses.
“Liam,she’snotanidiot,”shereasonsbeforelookingupatme.“Areyouanidiot?”
“No,I’mnot.”
“Thereyougo.”Biancashrugs.“I’minmyunderwear,Liam.Mightaswellbehonest.”
“Yes,Liam,mightaswellbehonest,”Isay,crossingmyarms.
Hedeflates,scrunchinguphiseyesandburyinghisfaceinhishands.Afteremittinganirritatedgroan,hejerkshisheadbackupanddropshisarms,inhalingdeeply.
“I’msosorry,Harper.I’mso,sosorry.”
“Wasitjusttonight?”Iask.
“Yes,”herepliesfirmly.
“No,”Biancasays.
“Seriously!”Liamcries,lookingatheraghast.
“Sorry,butI’vebeencheatedonbeforeandthetruthalwayscomesoutanyway,soit’sbettersheknowsthewholestory!”
“Thankyou,Bianca,I’dappreciatethat,”Isay,reallywarmingtoherdespitethecircumstances.“Liam,couldyouexpand?”
“Fine,”hesaysthroughgrittedteeth,beforelookingatmepleadingly.“Ididn’tmeanforthistohappen,Ipromise,Harper.WhenBiancaandImetatthecharityball,itwascompletelyinnocent,andIwenttoseethebandplayandthenwewentfordrinksafterwardand…therewasanundeniablesparkbetweenus.I’msosorry.”
“Soitwasthatnightandthentonight?”Iask.
“Andafewothernightsinbetween,”hemumbles.
“Ah.”
“Harper,”hebegins,“Ireallylikeyou!I’mconfused!I’mcompletelytornaboutthis!”
“Thatwasn’twhatyouweresayingtomeearlier,”Biancaseethes,herexpressiondarkening.
“Myheadisallovertheplace,”Liamsays,appealingtobothofus.
Iholdupmyhand.“Letmestopyouthere,Liam.Ashorribleasitistowalkinonthis…scenario,Iappreciateyourhonesty.EvenifitwasreallyBianca’scandorthataidedyours.ButIneedtobehonestmyself—Icameheretonighttobreakupwithyou.”
Herecoils,lookinginsulted.“Youdid?”
“Yes.ForawhilenowIhaven’tfeltquiterightaboutus,andIdon’tthinkwe…meshwell.”
“Wemeshperfectly!”heclaims,andIwonderifBiancaisasstumpedasIamaboutwhyhe’sbotheringtodefendourshatteredrelationship.
“Liam,wewenttoablack-tieballtogetherandbarelyacknowledgedeachother.Don’tyouthinkthatsaysquitealot?Andontopofallthat—”Ihesitate,takingabreath“—I’vehadfeelingsforsomeoneelse.Tonight,wekissed.”
Liamgasps.“Youkissed?Who?”
“Ryan.”
Hewrinkleshisnoseindisgust.“Thatguyyouhate?”
“It’scomplicated.Anyway,wekissed—onlykissed—butthenIstoppedhimbecauseIsaiditwaswrongwhenIhadaboyfriend,soIcamestraightheretoendthingswithyou.”IgesturetoBianca.“ButIrealizenowthatI’mnottheworstpersoninthisrelationship—you’veearnedthatparticularaccolade,Liam.”
“IthoughtitwasonemistakewithBianca,”hesayshurriedly,“butthenithappenedagainandagainand…Ishouldhavetoldyou.”
“Yeah.”Inod,puttingmyhandsonmyhips.“Clearlywe’renotmeanttobe.”
Wefallintosilence,themusicstillplayinginthebackground.Iclearmythroat.
“Right,Ishouldgo.Thishasbeen…enlightening.Foreveryoneinvolved.Bianca,Idon’tlovethatyouweresleepingwithaguythatyouknewhadagirlfriend,butIwanttothankyouforencouragingLiamtobehonestandfortellingmethetruth.”
“Noproblem,”shesays,withanodinsolidarity.“Andifithelps,Ithinkyou’reawickedwriter,withaveryentertainingstyle.”
“Thatshouldn’thelp,butitreallydoes.Thankyou.Liam,you’vebeenatotaldickhead,butsayingthat,Ithinkthisrelationshipwasfizzlingoutanyway,andIdidkisssomeoneelsebehindyourback.ThatwaswrongandI’msorry.Anyway,pleasecouldIhavemykeyback?”
HeplodsofftowardthebedroomandBiancaandIwaitinsilenceuntilhereturns,placingmyflatkeyintothepalmofmyhand.
“Great,well,Ishouldgo.”
“Wait,Harper,”Liamsays,grabbingmyarm,“areyousureyoudon’twanttotalkthingsthrough?Itfeelssadtobreakupinthisway.”
“I’mnotsurethere’smuchtotalkabout,Liam,becausethere’sahalf-nakedgirlonyoursofa.Ithinkwecanagreethisisoverandthebestthingtodoistowisheachotherluckandmoveon.”
Helooksdowncast.“CanIcallormessageyou?IhavethingsIwanttosay.”
IglanceatBianca.Sheshrugs,lookingasbewilderedasIfeel.
“Um…maybemessage,ifyou’dreallylike.”
“Thankyou,”hesaysinagratinglyausteremanner.
Heholdshisarmsouttome,andIrealizehewantsahug,whichIguessisappropriateifwewanttoendthisamicably.AndeventhoughI’mdisgustedthathe’sbeenshaggingBianca,Iwantoutofthisrelationship,andthere’snoneedtomakethisevenmoreexcruciatinglyawkwardthanitalreadyis.IhughimbackandheholdsmetighterthanIwasexpecting,causingmetostumbleashepullsmecloser.
“Thanksforeverything,”hewhispersintomyhair.“I’msosorrythisdidn’tworkout.”
“Metoo,”Ireply,hopinghe’llreleasemesoon.“Goodbye,Liam.”
Hesqueezesmeoncemore,beforegivingmeaforcefulkissonthecheekandthenlettingmegofromhisgrasp.Istepback,smileathim,andthenheadtowardthedoor,desperatetogetthehelloutofthereasquicklyaspossible.
I’mmomentsfromfreedomwhenhecallsout,“Harper,wait!”causingmetostopinthedoorway,forcedtoturnaroundagain.
“Yes?”
“Ijustwanttocheck,”hesays,hisexpressionbrightening,“you’llstillwriteaprofilepieceonHaloSkewed,right?Theyreallyarefantastic.Ithinkthey’reagreatfitforthemagazine.Oh,anddon’tforgetaboutthathotnewtalentagenciesarticleIpitched.”
Istareathim.“I…I’llkeepitinmind.”
“Great.”Hegivesmeathumbs-up.
Andonthatnote,Ileave,nevermoregratefultohearadoorslamshutbehindme.CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
“WhenImessageMimitotellheraboutthebreakupthenextmorning,sheisoveratmyflatinaflashwithsomekindofgrossgreenjuicethatsheforcesmetodrinkbecause,accordingtoher,itisimportantthatIlookaftermyself“duringthistumultuoustime.”
Shedoesn’tknowthehalfofit.
Onceshe’ssatdownonmysofaandI’vehadafewgulpsofthegreensludge,IdecidetotellheraboutthekisswithRyan,too.Iholdbackonrevealingourhistory—I’mnotreadytogointoallofthatnow,Idon’thavetheenergy—butItellheraboutthetriptoManchesterandwhathappenedwhenwegotbacktohisLondonflat.
“Whatkindofkisswasit?”sheasks,hereyeswidewithexcitement.“Wasitlikeatentativepeck?Orwasitpassionate?”
“Wait,”Isay,surprisedbyherreaction.“You’renotshockedthatRyanandIkissedinthefirstplace?”
Sheshakesherhead.“Notatall.Itoldyoutherewaschemistrythere.IcalleditassoonasIsawthewayyoutwolookedateachotherinMeetingRoomThree!Now…Iaskagain,whatkindofkissarewetalkingabouthere?”
“Iwasupagainstthewall.”
Sheexhales.“Soundshot.”
“Itwashot.Itwasthebestkissofmylife.”
Whichistheabsolutetruth.
ItellMimiaboutshowingupatLiam’splaceunannounced,andsheswiftlyagreesthatitwasagoodthingImetthesurprisinglydelightfulBianca,becauseotherwiseImighthaveneverheardthetruth.KnowingthatLiamcheatedhassparedmeexcessiveguiltovermykisswithRyan.
“Haveyoutoldhim?”MimiaskswhenIconcludethesaga.
“Toldwhowhat?”
“HaveyoutoldRyanaboutthebreakup?”Mimisays,lookingatmeasthoughI’velostmymind.
“Oh.No,notyet.”
Shegasps.“Whythehellnot?”
Iburymyheadinmyhands.WhenIgothomefromLiam’slastnight,IspentalongtimedraftingandredraftingamessagetoRyan,butnomatterhowhardItried,nothingsoundedrightanditlookedtooformalandstiltedinwriting.ThenIrealizedwhattheproblemwas:IhadnoideawhatIwantedtosay.WasitenoughtosayI’dbrokenupwithLiam?OrshouldIacknowledgewhathappenedbetweenus?AndifIdid,shouldIthensaywhatIwanttohappengoingforward?WhatdoIwanttohappengoingforward?!
Itwasalltoooverwhelming,andIgotaterribleheadache,sointheendIgaveupanddecidedI’dmessagehiminthemorning.Buttodaynothingseemsclearer.
“WhatamIsupposedtosay?”Imoan.“SendhimacasualWhatsAppinforminghimI’vebrokenupwithmyboyfriend?”
“Um.Yes?”Shestaresatmewide-eyed.
“Wouldn’titbebettertojust…dropitintoconversationwhenIseehim?Itdoesn’tseemrightputtinganythinginamessage.”
“Youlefthimmid-kiss,”Mimisaysaccusingly.“Andnowhehasn’theardfromyou?Comeon,hedeservesmorethanthat.We’redoingitnow.I’llhelpyoucomposeit.”
She’sright.Iknowshe’sright.So,together,wecraftthefollowingmessage,andIpressSendbeforeIcanoverthinkit:
HeyRyan,sorryagainaboutyesterday.Itwouldbegreattochateverythingthroughinpersonifthat’sokay?X
Icheckmyphoneeverythirtysecondsuntilhefinallyrepliesafewminuteslater:Soundsgoodx
ItrytoplayitcoolonMondaymorningasIwanderintotheoffice,butwhenRyanisn’tathisdeskonmyarrivalasusual,myfacemustgivemeaway.InoticeMimiwatchingmeasIsitdown.
“AreyouwonderingwhereRyanis?”sheteases,raisinghereyebrows.
“Iwasthinkingit’sunusualthathe’snotathisdeskontime,”Ireplycasually,keepingmyvoicedown.
Shegrinsatme,hereyestwinklingwithmischief.“Nicedress.”
I’mwearingoneofmyfavoritesummerdresses—palebluewithlemonsalloverit—andI’mhopingtogetabitofcolorbeforeIleaveforFlorenceonFriday.
“Thanks.Ithoughtitwasrightforsuchasunnyday.”
“Makesyourboobslookgood,Isee.”
“Mimi!”Ihiss,glancingroundtomakesurenooneoverheard.“Thatisveryinappropriate.”
“Gotthepinsout,too,”sheremarks,peeringoverthedesktolookatmylegs.“DidyoufaketanlastnightafterIleft?”
“Yes,becauseit’ssunny,andIthoughtitmightbenicetobealittlebronzed.”
“Anyoneyou’retryingtoimpress?”
Iglareather,butsheisunfazed,returningtohertypingwithanirritatinglysmugsmileonherlips.
WesoonrealizethatCosmoisinafoulmoodtodaybecausehetwistedhisanklegolfingthisweekend,soIpretendtobeverybusyuntilhisboomingvoiceonthephonetohispodiatristgetstoomuchandMimiandIbothdecideweshouldescapetoRoasted.
“Ican’tstopthinkingaboutwhatLiamsaidtoyou,”Mimiadmitswhilewewaitforourcoffees.“Hereallystillthoughtyou’dwriteapiecepromotinghisagency?Whatplanetisthatguyon?”
“AndafeatureonHaloSkewed,”Iremindher.“Iwasn’tevengoingtowriteoneontheminthefirstplace!Ryanwasrightabouthim.”
Mimilooksintrigued.“Oh?”
“HemetLiamatthecharityball,andrightawaythoughthewasmoreinterestedinthenetworkingopportunitiesmyjobprovidedthaninme.Hewasspoton.Ican’tbelieveIdidn’tseeit.It’sembarrassing.”
“Butisn’titsweetthatRyanwaslookingoutforyou?”Mimisays,nudgingmyarm.“Ithinkhereallylikesyou,Harper.Andclearlyhe’sagoodjudgeofcharacter.”
Wetakeourtimestrollingbacktotheoffice.It’snicetomakethemostofthiswarmweatherandneitherofusisinanyrushtogetbacktoourdesks.
Butwhenwereturn,Ryanisthere.AssoonasIlayeyesonhim,I’mfloodedwithnerves,mystomachturningtomushasItrytowalkasnormallyaspossible.Itdoesn’thelpthatMimiiswatchingmelikeahawkandwillnodoubtlisteninonanyinteractionwehave.
“Morning,”IsaybrightlyasIsitdown.
“Morning,”hereplies,givingmeapolitesmilebeforereturninghisattentiontohisscreen.
It’sanunsatisfactoryexchange,butIsupposeweareintheoffice.Thetroubleis,Ryanisverygoodatmaskinghisfeelings.Ican’tdecipherifhis“morning”waslayeredwithundertonesofresentmentthatI’dabandonedhimafterthatkiss,orwhethertherewasahintofhopethatImightbebackonthemarket.
Ormaybehewasjustsaying“morning”withoutanykindofmeaningbehinditatalland,infact,heisfullyfocusedonwhateverarticlehe’sediting.
Wecanhardlytalkaboutthingshere.ShouldIhaverepliedandsuggestedanexactdateandtimeforourchat?OrshouldIaskhimforacasualdrinkafterwork?AmIsupposedtowaitforhimtoaskmeforachat?Whomakesthefirstmovehere?
Isuddenlyfeelveryhotandflustered.
Determinedtoremainprofessional,IstartthinkingabouthowtobegintheMaxSj?bergarticle.Ialwayslikemyfeaturestolaunchwithsomethingpunchy—asurprising,out-therequotefromthesubject,oralittle-knownfactaboutthemthatmightcatchthereader’sattention.Ileandowntograbmybagandstartrummagingaboutformynotebook.
“Damnit,”Iwhisperwhenit’snowheretobefound.Istartlookingaroundmydesk,incaseit’shidingunderastackofpapers,sendingapotofpensflyingontothefloor.Ifeeltearsprickingmyeyes.Whatiswrongwithme?
BeforeIcanstartpickingthemup,Ryanhasswiveledhischairroundandleanedovertohelp,droppingthepensbackintotheirpot,onebyone.
“Thankyou,”Isay,offeringhimanervoussmile.
“Whathaveyoulost?”heasks.
“Mynotebook.Iknowit’sheresomewhere.Irememberseeingitthismorning,soit’sintheoffice.IgotitoutwhenIwasgoingthroughafeatureearlierandthen…Idon’tknow,Imusthaveputitdownsomewhere.”
“Givemeasecond,”Ryansays,pushinghimselfupoffthechairandwalkingoff.
Aminutelater,hereturns,holdingupmynotebooktriumphantly.Myjawdrops.
“Wheredidyou—?”
“Itwasbythekettleinthekitchen,”heexplains,lookingamusedashepassesitovertomeandsitsbackdown.“Youleftittherelastweek,too,remember?Youstudyitsometimeswhileyou’rewalkingabout.”
Istareathiminamazement.“I’mimpressedbyyoursleuthingskills.”
“Itwasaluckyguess,”heinsists,turningbacktohiswork.
Thankinghimagain,IcatchMimigivingmeapointedlookandtryingtomouthsomethingatme,butIcan’tworkitout.Eventuallyshegivesupandstartstypingquicklyonherkeyboard.Anemailfromherpopsupinmyinbox.
Heknowsyousowell,itreads.
Deletingit,IrollmyeyesatherandfocusonreviewingmynotesonMaxSj?berg,butittakeseveryeffortnottosmilebecauseI’dbeenthinkingexactlythesamething.
Allmorning,IpretendtobeengrossedinmyworkwheninfactI’mstealthilywatchingRyan,mesmerizedbythewayhisfingersswiftlyandeffortlesslydartaroundthekeyboardashetypes,rememberingthewarmthofhisstronghandsaroundmywaist,andnoticinghowwhenhe’sreadingintently,herestshisrightelbowonhisdeskandpressestheknuckleofhisforefingerintohislips,hisforeheadcreasedindeepconcentration.It’sanunbelievablysexypose,magnifiedbythefactthathehasnoideajusthowsexyhelookswhenhe’sdoingit.
I’msecretlystudyinghisbottomlipwhenIhearsomeonecallingmyname,causingmetojump.
“Harper,it’ssorubbishaboutArtistry!Haveyouspokentotheiragentyet?”Gabbymoans.
“Sorry,I’vebeen…uh…busy,”Istammer,tryingtobringmyselfbackdowntoearth.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Artistry,”sheemphasizes.“Theband?Ithoughtyousaidafewweeksagothattheremightbeareuniontour.”
Inod.“Thatwasinthecards,yes.”
“Notanymore.Apparentlythebandhadthishugefalling-outandthey’renotspeaking.Thetourplanshavebeencanceled.”Shetiltsherhead.“Iwouldhavethoughtyou’dhavebeenthefirsttoknow!Iwashopingfortheinsidescoop.”
“Oh!Ohno,that’sso…Ibetterringtheiragent,you’reright.Ihaven’tseenanyofthisyet,”Isay,fumblingaroundmydesktofindmymouseand,havinglocatedit,bringingupTwitter,whereIseethenewsistrending.“Shit.HowdidImissthis?”
“Likeyousaid,you’vebeenbusy,”Mimicommentsinasicklysweettone.“Whatwithyourbreakupandeverything.”
Gabbygasps,placingahandonherheart.“YoubrokeupwithLiam?I’msosorry!”
Myfacefeelslikeit’sonfireasIshootdaggersatMimiforbringingitupbeforeIwasprepared.Shedoesn’tseemtheleastbitregretful,insteadstealingglancesatRyan,whohas—itmustbenoted—lookedupfromhiswork.
“Thanks,butI’mfine,”IsaytoGabby,flusteredandsquirminginmyseat.“Itwasmydecision.”
“Still,breakupssuck,”shestates.“Areyoureallyokay?”
“Yes,definitely,”Iinsist.“Weweren’trightforeachother.Atall.”
“Youaresostrong.I’msuchamessafterbreakups!Didhetakeitwell?”
“Um.”IthinkbackonBiancaloungingacrossthesofainherlacyunderwear.“Hetookitprettywell,yeah.”
“Ifthere’sanythingIcandoforyoutoday,pleasejustsay,”Gabbysays,comingovertogivemeahug.“Infact,letmegomakeyouacupoftea.”
“Youdon’tneedtodothat;I’mhonestlyfine.”
“Hotdrinksarecomforting.I’llbebackinajiffy,”sheinsists,hurryingoff.
“Sheissuchasweetheart,”Mimiremarks,watchinghergo.
“NowIfeelbadforgivingherallthatMaxSj?bergtranscribingtodothismorning,”Iadmit.
“YoubrokeupwithLiam,”Ryansays,hiseyesfixedonme.
“Yes,”Ireply,myvoiceshakingasImeethisgaze.
“Areyouallright?”heasks,hisvoiceeven.
“Yes,”Irepeat,notbreakingeyecontact.
Henods.“Good.”
Hisexpressiongivesnothingaway,andheresumeshistyping.Bitingherlip,Mimiwitnessestheexchangeandthengivesmeabaffled,wide-eyedlook.
Hedoesn’tseemparticularlyhappyaboutthenews.Whichisn’tgood.
Although,hedoesn’tseemunhappy,either.
EverythinghesaidonSaturdaynighthadledmetothinkhe’dbepleasedthatLiamandIhavebrokenup.Butwhatifhedoesn’tliketheideaofbeingarebound?Ormaybehe’sstillangryatmeforleavingsoabruptly?Maybehe’shavingsecondthoughtsnowthatwe’rehereintheoffice,andhe’srealizingitcouldbeunprofessionaltoembarkonaromanticrelationshipwithacolleague?Whichisactuallyaverygoodpointthatshouldbetakenintoconsideration.
ThatsortofthingdoesseemlessimportantthemoreIsneakilyobsessoverhislips,though.
Can’theshowoneounceofemotion?!Whatareyouthinking,Ryan?
Iconsideraskingifhewantstotalknow,butItellmyselfit’snottherighttimeorplace.Andyetsittingnexttohimwithnoideawhatisgoingonisunbearable.
Gabby’steaturnsouttobealifesaverasitgivesmesomethingelsetoconcentrateon.Isipitgratefully,acceptingthattodayisgoingtobeoneofthosedaysthatIgetlittletonoworkdone.
“Everyone,Ihaveanannouncement!”Mimideclaresalittlelaterafterreceivingaphonecall,spinninginherchairsoshecanaddressthewholeteam.“IhavejustspokentoSadie,thepublicistheadinguptheFlorencepresstripthisweekend,andshehashadalast-minutedrop-outandthereisaplaceupforgrabs.ThankstoalovelypieceIwroteaboutanotherofthehotelsonherbooksrecently,shehasverykindlyofferedthatspacetosomeoneatNarrative.WealreadyhavethefabulousHarpergoingonthetrip,butnowthereisroomforonemoreofourjournalists.Beforeyouallstartshoweringmeincomplimentstogetthespot—”sheholdsupherhandsasarippleofexcitementspreadsthroughtheoffice“—Iamgoingtomakethisasfairaspossiblebyputtingeveryone’snameinahatandpullingoneout,andthatpersonwillgettogo.Ifyouaren’tfreethisweekendordon’twanttogo,justletmeknowandIwon’tputyournameinthemix.Endofannouncement!”
Assheswivelsbackround,Ileanacrossmydesktoberateher.
“Whydidyouofferittothewholeteam?”Iwhispercrossly.“Ishouldhavesomesayinwhogoeswithmeonthetrip.”
“Oh,really,Harper?Youthinkyoushoulddecideinsteadofthetraveleditor?”
“IfyoupickCosmo’snameout,thenI’mnotgoing.”
“Don’tberidiculous;hewon’tbeabletogo,”sheassuresme.“Hisweekendsarejam-packedwithgolfingtripsatthemoment.”
“Don’tforgettoputmynamein,Mimi!”Cosmocallsoutfromhisoffice,appearinginthedoorwayandhobblingforward.“Howfortunate,theoneweekendIdon’thaveanyplans.Andmyfootwillbehealedbythen,I’mcertain.”
“Ofcourse!”Mimireplieswithafixedsmile.
Whenheretreatsbacktohisdesk,Inarrowmyeyesather.
“I’mgoingtokillyou.”
Thehourspass,andRyanandIbarelyspeak.
WhenMimiloudlydeclaresthatthemomenthascomeforhertopickaname,I’vejustsentastiffemailtomydad,confirmingadateforourdinnerintwoweeks.I’mnotinthebestofmoods,soifMimiisabouttoannouncethatI’mheadingofftoFlorencewithCosmoChambers-Smyth,I’mgoingtostormrightoutofhere,gohome,climbintobed,andnotemergeforamonth.
“Themomentoftruth,”Mimisays,relishingherpositionofpower.Sheswirlsherhandaroundthemultiplescrapsofpaperfillingahatthatsheborrowedfromthefashioncupboardandeventuallyselectsone,holdingitaboveherheadforeveryonetowitness.
“Wehaveawinner!”shedeclares,beforecarefullyunfoldingit.“AndthepersonjoiningHarperinFlorencethisweekendwillbe…”
Shetakesadramaticpause.Iholdmybreathandpray:NotCosmo,notCosmo,notCosmo,anyonebutCos—
“Ryan!”
Oh,shit.
I’mnotgoingtolie,it’sbeenastrangeweek.
RyanandIhavestillnothadachancetohavethetalkweagreedto.We’vebothbeensobusy,andwhenIfinallymusteredthecouragetosuggestanafter-workdrink,wecouldn’tseemtocoordinateourdiaries.
I’vebeentryingnottoreadintoit,butRyanhasalsoseemedevenmoretenseandseriousthanusual.
Everyoneintheoffice,ofcourse,findstheFlorencetripextremelyamusing.Asfarastheyareconcerned,RyanandIdon’tlikeeachother,sothey’reallfindingithilariousthatwe’llbealoneonanintimate,luxurytripabroad.
Ryan’squietandpensivemoodmademenervoustoapproachhimabouttheMaxSj?bergarticle.Iwasstilltryingtofigureoutthebestwayofwritingthepiecetogetherwhenhesuggestedwegotoameetingroomoneafternoontodiscussit.
Oncethedoorwasclosedbehindus,hepulledhischairclosetoexaminewhatI’dalreadywrittenonmylaptopscreen.Icouldhardlyconcentrateonawordhewassaying,especiallywhenheshiftedinhisseatandourkneesknockedtogether.Hesmelledsogood,allcleanwithahintofhiswoodycologne,notsomuchthatwasoverpowering,butenoughthatitmademewanttoleanincloser.Hewaswearingthetopfewbuttonsofhisblueshirtundone,andIhadtoforcemyselfnottobecomefixatedonthewayhisAdam’sapplemovedashespoke.
Draggingmyeyesawayfromhimandlookingatthetableinsteadseemedlikeasafebet,butIwaswrongtherebecausehewasrestinghisarmsonit,andwithhisshirtsleevesrolledup,hisstrongforearmswereonfulldisplay.
“Thisisreallygood,”hesaidafterreadingthroughthedocument.“DoyouwanttosendittomeandI’lladdinsomeparagraphsabouthischildhoodandhisconnectiontoSweden?Thenyoucangooverthoseandtweakthemhoweveryoulike.”
Itoremyeyesawayfromhisforearmsandstammered,“Great.Thatsoundsgreat.Perfect.”
Henodded,watchingme.“Alltheseyearslater,we’llhaveournamestogetheragaininthebyline.”
“Yeah.Whowouldhavethought?”
IsmiledandIcouldseehiminstantlyrelax,hisexpressionsoftening.Iwasabouttoaskthenandthereifwecouldtalkaboutwhathappened,butCosmobarreledinanddemandedthatRyancometohisoffice.Themomentwasstolen.
Then,thatveryevening,rightbeforewewenthomefortheday,wegotinanargument.Ipromptlyforgotthathesmelledreallygoodandhadbeensolovelyaboutmywriting,andIgotangryathimforbeingaprick.
Cosmo,inhisinfinitewisdom,haddecidedtoletRyantakechargeofthe“MyLittleLuxuries”column,whichhadbeenmydomaineversinceIstartedatNarrative,andhad“forgotten”toletmeknow.WhenIsentmycopyovertoartforthenextissue,theyrepliedthattheyalreadyhadcopyfromRyan.
“Thathasalwaysbeenmycolumn!”IcriedasRyanexplainedtometheneworderofthingsonCosmo’sbehalf—he’dconvenientlyleftearlyforadinner.“Youcan’tjusttakeitawayfromme!”
“Onceagain,I’msorrythatCosmodidn’ttalktoyouaboutthislikehepromisedhewould,”Ryanrepliedcalmly,tryingtokeepthingscivil,blushingastherestoftheteamturnedtolookatus.“Butwhenyouthinkaboutit,itmakessensethatthefeatureseditorwoulddothatcolumn.”
“Itdoesnotmakesense!It’sacelebrityeveryweeksayingwhattheirlittleluxurieswouldbe,”Icounteredangrily.
“It’sontheweeklyround-updoublespreadthatIheadup,”heresponded,growingimpatient.“Iediteverythingelseonthosepages.Mynameisliterallyontheheaderacrossthetop.”
“Andmynameisatthebottomofthe‘MyLittleLuxuries’column,see?”Igrabbedapreviouscopyofthemagazine,flickedtothecorrectpage,andjabbedmyfingeratit,readingoutloud,“astoldtoHarperJenkins.”
“Harper,”hesaid,rubbinghistemples,“Idon’tunderstand.Youwereliterallycomplainingabouthavingtoalwayswritethiscolumntheotherday.Surelyyou’rehappytoletsomeoneelsetakeoverthehassleofdoingit.”
“JustbecauseIcomplainaboutsomething,doesn’tmeanIwantyou—”Ijabbedmyfingerathimaccusingly“—tocomealongandstealitfrommeinanunderhandedandunprofessionalmanner.”
“Cosmosaidhewouldspeaktoyouaboutit!”
“Well,hedidn’t!Youarebothcompletelyoutoforder!”
“Thisisridiculous,”hesaid,hischeeksflushing.“Thiscolumnboresyoutodeath.You’rejustangrythatI’mdoingitnow!”
“Thatisnottrue!I’veputalotofworkintothatcolumn!I’vegotlotsofgreatnameslinedupforit,alloftheinterviewsscheduled—”
“That’sfunny,”heinterrupted,crossinghisarms,“becauseIcheckedthescheduleforthatcolumnontheserverandtherewerezeronameslisted.”
“Idon’tupdatethescheduleontheserver,Ryan,”Iseethed.“Ihaveitallinmyhead!”
Closinghiseyes,heinhaleddeeplythroughhisnose,attemptingtoregaincomposure.
“HowIschedulethingsisnotevenrelevant,”Icontinued.“ThepointisthatyouandCosmomadeabigchangeanddidn’ttellme.Ishouldhavebeeninvolvedinthatconversation!”
“You’reright,andI’msorryagainforthat,”hesaidascalmlyashecouldmuster,“butIdoalsothinkthiscolumnshouldfallundertheremitoftheeditorofthesepages,and,honestly,IthoughtIwasdoingyouafavor.”
“Oh,soyouagreewithCosmo,doyou?”
“Yes,Ido,”hestatedfirmly.
“Well…you’rebothwrong.”
Turningawayfromhim,Igrabbedmybagandstormedoutoftheoffice.IwaslateanywayforthelaunchofaTVpresenter’snewself-tanningrange.
Thenextmorning,I’dcooledslightly.Overcoffee,MimiandIdiscussedthat,althoughIshouldhaveabsolutelybeeninformed,itmightbenicetonolongerworryabout“MyLittleLuxuries.”Ioftenthrewittogetheratthelastminuteinawhirlwindpanicanyway.
WhenRyanrepeatedhisapology,Igraciouslyacceptedit.
“Thankyou,Harper.Ireallyamsorryaboutyounotbeingtold,”hesaid,swivelingtofacemeinhischair.“Ionlyhopeyouwon’tmissittoomuch.”
Inoticedhewassuppressingasmileashesaidthis.Gloweringathim,Iturnedmyattentionbacktomyscreen.
“Oh,andyou’llsendmeoverthelistofpeopleyouhavescheduled,yes?”headded.
“I’msorry?”Ireplied.
“Thecelebritiesyouhavescheduledforthecolumn,”heexplainedbreezily.“Youknow,theonesyouhadlinedupinyourhead.”
InoticedMimiacrossthewaypressingherlipstogetherasshetriednottolaugh.Hehadmeandheknewit.
“Ifyoucansendthoseoveralongwiththedatesofwhenyou’vescheduledtheminforaninterview,”Ryancontinued,“IcangetintouchtoexplainI’llbedoingthecolumnnow.Youshouldn’thavetodealwithallthathassle.You’vealreadygonetoalltheworkoforganizingthem.”
“Yes.Right.Thankyou,”Isaid,mycheeksflushing.
Iwaitedabitbeforespeakingagain,myvoiceslightlyhigherpitchedthanIwouldhaveliked.
“Actually,Ryan,Ithinkit’sbestifyoujuststartfresh.”
Heraisedhiseyebrows.“Oh?Butwon’tallofthosecelebritiesbeannoyed?”
“No,I’llspeaktotheiragentsandexplain,”Isaidhurriedly,refusingtolookathissmugexpression.
“Okay,sure.I’llstartafresh.Thankyou,Harper.”
Wefellintosilence,bothofustappingawayatourkeyboards,andthenafewmomentslater,Istoleaglanceathim.Hewaslookingatme.Asoureyesmet,hebrokeintoaknowingsmileandIcouldn’thelpbutsmilebackathim.Heshookhisheadatmeandwebothgotbacktowork.
Itreallyhasbeenastrangeweek.
Embroiledinamixtureofexcitementandnerves,I’vespentalotoftimestressingoverwhattopackforFlorence.Myflatismessierthanusual—andthat’ssayingsomething—becauseIhavebeentrawlingthroughthedepthsofmywardrobeinthehopeofdiscoveringanewcollectionofholidayclothes,eventhoughIhaven’tbeenonholidayin…well…forever.
OnWednesdayevening,inthemidstoflobbingshoesacrossmyroominadesperatehuntforasuitablewedgethatmakesmelookelegantbutIcanalsomanagetostayuprightin,thedoorbellrang.
Myfirst,thrillingthought?Ryan
ButitwasLiam,droppingbyto“talkthingsthrough”andpickupsomeofhisbelongingsthathe’dleft.Itoldhimitwasn’tagoodtimebecauseIwaspackingforItaly,buthesighedheavilyandretorted,“Itwillneverbeagoodtime,Harper,”inthevoiceofanoldwizenedwizard,soIthoughtitbesttolethiminandgetitoveranddonewith
Itwasmuchlessawkwardthantheoriginalbreakup,largelybecauseitwasn’twitnessedbyhisnakedlover,butitwasstillmildlypainful.HefelttheneedtoreassuremethatIwasawonderfulpersonand,thathavingspentsometimeanalyzingwhatwentwrong,he’dcometotheconclusionthatwewereboth“toofocusedonourcareerpaths”rightnowto“reallyletsomeonein.”
Idrylypointedoutthathe’dhadnotrouble“lettingBiancain.”
Hewinced.Iregretteditimmediately,becauseeventhoughitwasaratherwittycomeback,itdidprompthimtolaunchintoadetailedexplanationaboutthe“purelyphysical”natureoftheirrelationship—somethingIverymuchdidnotneedtohearabout.ButIdidn’twantthingsbetweenustoendbadly,soIwishedhimthebest.WehuggeditoutandIusheredhimaway.
Ifanything,seeingLiamwasconfirmationthatanyfeelingsforhimhadwellandtrulypeteredout.IneededtouseourtimeinFlorencetoletRyanknowthat,andtoworkouthowhefeltaboutme.Thatdecided,IdidloadsofonlineshoppingandspentThursdayeveningtryingoncountlessoutfitsandsendingpicturesofmyselftoMimitogatherheropiniononeachone.
Bringsexyunderwear,shemessaged,justincase.
IblushedasIreadthemessage.Theywerealreadyinmybag.
OnFridaymorning,IwakeuptoaWhatsAppfromRyan.Isitboltuprightinbed,myheartinmythroatasIscrollthepreviewdowntoreadit:
Seeyouattheairport.Don’tforgetyourpassport.x
Myfacebreaksintoawide,goofy,unrestrainedgrin.It’sjustsohim.Sensible,practical,butalsokindofcutebecause,likeMimisaidtheotherday,heknowsme.
Andheputakissontheend.
Ithrowmyduvetbackandswingmylegsoutofbed,beforeskippingtothebathroomtoshower.I’mwellawarethatIshouldbeplayingitcool,thatIshouldnotgetmyhopesup,anditwouldbesmarttobecautiousandpragmaticaboutwhatmightormightnothappen.Forgoodness’sake,itwasonemessageandithadakissontheend.Thatcouldmeannothing.
Butscrewit.I’msingingintheshower.
Andtoday,I’mwearingsexyunderwear.Justincase.CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Ryansmileswhenheseesmeracingtowardhim.
Iquicklydodgeafamilyoffiveandtrynottotripoverthewheeliecasessqueakingalongbehindthem.
“SorryI’mlate!”IwheezeasIjointhepressgroupwaitinginthedeparturesarea.“Ihadalast-minuteemergency.”
“Ohno!Ihopeeverythingisokay?”saysacurly-hairedwomaninalarm.
“Yes,everythingisfinenow,”Iassureher.
There’snoneedtogointothedetailsofsaidemergency,whichwasthatasIgotreadytoleavetheflat,IsuddenlyrealizedinabsolutehorrorthatI’dforgottentoshavemylegs.IhadtocanceltheUberthatwasalreadywaiting,asthedriverwasgettinggrumpyandsendingmeimpatientmessages,andthenhoistupthebluemaxiskirtIwaswearingtobalancealeginthesinkbeforedoingtheotherone.IthenhadtowaittenminutesforanotherUbertoacceptmytrip,andbythenthetrafficwasterribleonthewaytoGatwick.
“I’msosorryforholdingyouup,”Isayagain.
“You’reonlyafewminuteslate,it’snoproblem,”thewomansays,smilingwithimpossiblyperfect,pearly-whiteteeth.“I’mSadie,bytheway.It’sreallynicetomeetyou—I’veheardalotaboutyoufromMimi.”
Sheintroducesmetothesmallcircleofpeoplethatwillbejoiningus—twojournalistsfromdifferenttravelpublicationsandonefromaluxuryfashionmagazinethatislaunchingatravelsection—andIpolitelysayhitoallofthem,untilshelandsonRyan.
“Andofcourse,youknowRyan,”shesaysasIacknowledgehimwithasmile,forcingmyselftolookupintohiseyes
“Right,”Isaythroughnervouslaughter.“Hi.”
“Hi,Harper,”hereplies,givingnothingaway.
“Let’stacklesecurity,shallwe?”Sadiesuggestsbeforeturningonherheelandwalkingbrisklythroughtheairport.
RyanandInaturallyfallintostepwithoneanotheraswebringuptherearofthegroup,theotherjournosforcedtomakesmalltalkastheytrytokeepupwithSadie.
“So,didyou—”hebeginsatthesametimeasIsay,“Iwanttothank—”
“Sorry,”Isay,blushing.“Yougofirst.”
“Iwasgoingtocheckyourememberedyourpassport.”
“AndIwasgoingtothankyouforthereminder.”
“Ididn’tmeantosoundbossy.”
“Ididn’tthinkyousoundedbossy.”
Henods.“Good.”
Hestillseemstense,andweremainsilentuntilwereachthesecurityqueueandheletsmegoaheadofhim.TheonlytimeIseeahintofhimrelaxingiswhenwegetnearthefrontofthequeueandIrealizeIneedtogettheliquidsout.Iplonkmyweekendbagonthegroundandunzipit,fishingaroundthecrumpledclothes,tryingnottosendmysexylingerieflyingthroughtheairintheprocess.Asthequeuemovesforward,I’mforcedtoawkwardlyshufflealong,nudgingmybagalongwithme,mybumintheairasIleanoverit.
“Organizedasever,”Ryanmurmursbehindme,andIcanhearthathe’ssmiling.
Whenwegetontheplane,I’mdisappointedthatI’mnotsittingnexttohimandcontemplatetryingtobribetheolderwomanintheseatbesidehimtoswitch.Butmypridegetsthebetterofme.I’mseatedintherowbehind,andIspendthetwo-hourflightstudyingwhatIcanseeofRyanthroughthegapintheseats,whichishisleftear,aportionofhisneck,andthebackofhisleftforearmandelbow.
Afterspendingalittletoolongdaydreamingaboutkissingthatgentleslopeofhisneck,IforcemyselftosnapoutofitandinsteadopentheitinerarythatSadieprovided.Today,we’llberelaxingatthehotel,whichis,afterall,thereasonwe’rehere,buttomorrowmorningwe’llbevisitingartgalleriesandchurchesandenjoyingawinetourintheafternoon.Readingthrough,Igetaflurryofexcitement—it’sbeenagessinceIwentonholiday.ImustremembertobringMimibackagift.
Ican’tstopbeamingaswestepofftheplaneintothehumidheatofsummertimeinItalyandspendthemini-bustaxijourneytothehotelgazingoutthewindowinabsoluteaweofFirenze,oneofthemostbeautifulcitiesI’veeverseen.Thenarrowstreets,linedwithrustic,warmyellow,red-roofedbuildings,areburstingwithquirkyshopsandrestaurants,andbustlingwithpedestrians,andeventhoughIknownothingaboutarchitecture,Icantellthesightsherearenothingshortofspectacular.I’malreadyitchingtoexplore.
“You’veneverbeen?”avoiceasksgently.
ItearmyeyesfromthewindowtofindthatRyanhasmovedtositnexttome.
“No,thisismyfirsttime.Howcouldyoutell?”
“Yourface,”heanswerssimply,givingmeoneofhistrademarksecretivesmiles.“Youlooked…inawe.”
“Iaminawe,”Iadmit.“It’sstunning.You’vebeentoFlorence?”
“Afewtimes.Iloveithere.Thefoodisincredible,andwaituntilyouseesomeoftheviewsovertherooftopsofthecity.It’sreallysomething.”
“You’llhavetoshowmesomeofyourfavoritespots,”Isay.
Henods,lookingpleased.“Iwill.”
Ourhotelislocatedinaparkinthehillsjustoutsidethecenterofthecity,andaswedrivedownatree-linedavenueandpulluptothevillabuiltintothelowhillside—abreathtakinglygrandbuildingwithadramaticfountaininthecenterofthedriveway—myjawdrops.ThereisnochanceI’deverbeabletoaffordtostayinaplacelikethis.Ireallyneedtomakethemostofit.
Thereceptionistheepitomeofopulence:vastchandeliershangingfromtheceilings,hugegildedmirrorsliningthedusty-pinkandgoldwalls,andavaseburstingwithwhiteandpinkflowerssetontheroundtableinthemiddleoftheroom.
“Welcome!”Sadietrills,herdelicatesandalsclackingacrossthefloorasshecomestostandinfrontofus.“AsI’msureyoucanalreadytell,youarestandinginoneofthemostsplendidvillashereinthesouthofthecity,builtbyBaronCadornain1889.Oncewe’vecheckedin,I’mgoingtoletyousettleinyourroomsandfreshenupfromtheflight,andthenwe’llbeenjoyingalunchontheterrace,preparedbytheexcellentchefsoftherestauranthere.Afterlunch,youarefreetospendtheafternoonrelaxingbytheoutdoorheatedpoolorenjoyingthefacilitiesofthespabeforedinner—complimentary,ofcourse.Therearealsosomefabulouswalksaroundthearea,ifyou’dliketoexplore.Pleasedoaskmefirst,though,sothehotelstaffherecangiveyouaroughguideofwheretogo.Oh,andIshouldmentionthatthebarwillbeopenfrom—”shechecksthetimeonherphone“—ah!It’sopennow.Drinksareonthehouse.Ihaveemailedallofyouthefulldetailsofthehotel,butpleasedonothesitatetoaskmeanyquestionsduringyourstayhere.Right,let’sgetyoutoyourrooms.”
Asshegoestosortourkeysatreception,IleantowardRyan,whoisstandingnexttome,busyadmiringthesurroundinginteriors.
“Thisisn’tadream,right?Wereallyarehere.”
“Icanconfirmthisisreal,Harper.”
“Ilovemyjob,”Iwhisper,makinghimchuckle.
“CanIjoinyou?”
Lyingonasunloungerbythepool,IlookuptoseeRyanwearingawhitelinenshirtandnavy-blueswimmingshortswithatoweloverhisarm.He’sgesturingtotheloungernexttome,shieldedfromthesunbythesameumbrella.
“Ofcourse,”Isay,puttingthestapledpagesIwasreadingdownonthetablenexttomyice-coldwaterthatoneofthewaiterskindlyjustrefreshedforme.“Althoughtherearebetteronesaroundthepoolifyou’dratherbeinthesun.”
“WiththisdelicateScandinavianskin?Bestnot,”hesays,sittingdownandkickingoffhisflip-flops.
I’mgladIoptedforaswimsuitratherthanabikiniforthistrip,butIstillfeelverynakedinfrontofRyan,andashemakeshimselfcomfortable,Iquicklycheckdownmyfrontthatnothingisoutofplaceandcrossonelegovertheother,wigglingmytoesnervously.
HeslideshisRay-BanWayfarersoffhisnoseandbalancesthemontopofhishead,squintingatmyreadingmaterial.“Thosepageslooklikework—you’regoingtogetintotroublewithMimiifshehearsyou’vebeenworkingonthistrip.”
“It’snotwork,butitisrelatedtowork.IfItellyouwhatthesepagesare,willyoupromisenottotell?”
“Mylipsaresealed,”hewhispersconspiratorially.
“AudreyAbbothasbeenwritinghermemoirs,andshesentmethefirstcoupleofchapterstoreadthroughtoseewhatIthink.”
“Whoa.”Hegrins.“That’samazing.”
“Iknow,right?Ifeelsohonored!AndwhatI’vereadisbrilliant,thankgoodness.Ican’twaittoreadthewholething.Shesurehashadaninterestinglife.Ineverknewshehadsomanyambitions—sheactuallyalwayswantedtogointodirecting,butshewassosuccessfulwithactingthatshestuckwiththatandthenneverhadtheconfidencetoswitchtobehindthecamera.AfterTheIncident,shedecidedtogiveuponthatdreamaltogether.Ithinkshe’dbeagreatdirector,personally.I’llhavetotellherso.”
“Shemustreallytrustyou,”Ryansurmises.
“Ihopeso.OrsheknowsI’mawriterandaneditorandistakingadvantageofafreeproofreadingservicebeforeshesendsthemanuscriptthroughtoherpublisher.”
“Now,thatismuchtoocynicalaviewpointtocomeoutofyourlips.”
Ismile.“You’reright.Let’sjustsayshetrustsme.”
AmemberofthestaffcomesglidingovertoaskRyanifhe’dlikeadrink.I’vemadeamentalnotethatthereviewofthishotelneedstomentionhowincredibletheserviceis—everyoneiswarmandfriendly,andsoattentive.Lunchwasoutstanding,andthanksinparttothedeliciousdryTuscanwhitewinethatwasservedthroughoutthemeal,I’mnotsureI’veeverfeltsorelaxed.
Asifreadingmymind,Ryansays,“IfeelveryluckythatthespotopenedupandIwasabletocomeatthelastminute.IoweMimibigtime.”
“Metoo.AndI’msothankfulthatshepulledyournameoutthehatandnotCosmo’s.Canyouimagineifhewerehere?Ibethe’dactasthoughhekneweverythingaboutFlorenceandlecturemetheentiretime.”
Ryanlaughs.“I’mpleasedIwasn’tyourlastchoice,atleast.”
“Don’tbesilly,”Isay,glancingathim.“I’mgladyou’rehere.”
Heturnshisheadtolookatmebeforeaskinginalow,sincerevoice,“Areyou?BecauseHarper,Iwouldhatetothinkthat—”
“Ryan,”Isay,cuttinghimoff,myheartthumpingagainstmychestashescrutinizesmyexpression,“I’mreallygladthatit’syouherewithme.”
Hedoesn’treply,andIseehisthroatbobasheswallows.SomeoneappearstodeliverthebeerthatRyanordered,andthenwe’rebothdistractedbyaloudsplashthatcomesfromthepool.Oneofthetraveljournalistsinourgrouphasjustarrived,and,spottingus,hegivesusanenthusiasticwaveanddragsasunloungerovertowherewearesitting.
Anothermomentruined.
Istayforawhiletobepolitebuteventuallyleavethepooltogohaveanapinmyelegantandair-conditionedroombeforegettingreadyfordinner.Collapsingonthebigsquishywhiteduvetofmybed,Iturnonmysideandclosemyeyes,fallingasleepinastateofhopefultrepidation,thinkingabouttheelatedlookonRyan’sfacewhenItoldhimthatIwaspleasedhewashere.
Iwearayellowdressfordinner—it’sgotspaghettistraps,afittedbodicewithascoopneckline,andaflowingskirtthatswishessatisfactorilyaroundthetopofmycalvesasIwalk.Icomplementitwithgoldearringsandapairofwedgesthathaveadelicategoldstraparoundtheankle,andboldredlipstick.Itiemyhairbackinalooseponytailsoit’soffmyneckintheheat,butnottooseverearoundmyface.Finally,asrecommendedbyMimi,Iapplysomegoldhighlighteralongmycollarbones.
EveryoneisalreadysittingaroundthetableintherestaurantwhenIcomedownstairs,andtheyalllookupasIentertheroom,butRyanpusheshischairbackandjumpstohisfeet.AsImoveroundthetabletotakethefreechairnexttohis,InoticeSadieraisinghereyebrowsathimwithundisguisedinterestashepullsoutmychairforme.
Nowthatwe’reallseated,thechefentersthediningroomandintroduceshimself,explainingourmenuoflocalproduce,whichwillbeginwithaselectionofhorsd’oeuvresbeforeastarterofsquidtagliatelleorFlorentinedumplings,followedbyamainofslow-cookedlambwithartichokesorspinachricottagnocchi,andadessertofalmondandraspberrymousse,eachcourseaccompaniedwithawinepairingchosenbythehotel’ssommelier.
“I’mnotsureI’llfitintothisdressafterthismeal,”IwhispertoRyanoncethechefhasfinishedandleftustoit.
Hesmiles,hiseyesflickeringdownmydressandbackupagain.“Thatisaverynicedress.”Hehesitatesbeforequietlyadding,“Youlookbeautiful.”
I’msoflustered,Idon’tknowwhattosay,andI’mgladwhenSadieasksRyanwhathethinksofthehotelsofar,sothatIhaveamomenttogathermythoughts.Ifeelsoawareofhimthroughoutthemeal:whereourhandsareplacedonthetable,howcloseourlegsaretobrushingagainsteachother,howhelooksatmeafterhespeaks,asthoughseekingmyapproval.
Afterdinner,we’reguidedtothepoolsidebar,whichisromanticallylitbylampsandcandlesdottedaroundthetables.Thewaterisinvitingatnight,ashimmeringmagenta-bluethankstothepurplelightssetunderwateralongitswalls.We’reservedthehotel’ssignaturecocktails,and,ontopofthewinefromdinner,ourgroupisgettingtipsierandlouder.
Ryanissittingoppositemenow,andIcanfeelhimwatchingasIfallintoconversationwithSadie,whoisslurringherwordsalittleassheenthusiasticallytellsmehowmuchsheadoresMimiandhowshe’ssohappythatwe’venowmetafterhearingallaboutme.
AfterassuringSadiethatsheandIare100percentgoodfriendsnow,IannouncethatI’mheadingtobedasit’sgettinglate.Theotherssaygoodnightbutdon’treallyacknowledgemydeparture.Idon’tnoticethatRyanisbehindmeuntilIgettotheelevator.
“Hey,”Isay,surprisedathispresence,andholdthedoorforhim.
“Hey,”hereplies,pressingthebuttontoourfloor.
We’rebothfacingtheshinysilverdoorsastheyslowlyclose,andstandnexttoeachotherintensesilencethewholewayuptothethirdfloor.Itmustonlytakeafewseconds,butstandingintheliftsoclosetohim,ourfingertipscentimetersfrombrushingagainsteachother,itfeelsliketimestandsstill.
Ikeepmyeyesfixedaheadonthedoors,refusingtoglanceathim.Myheartisthuddingsohardagainstmychest,I’mscaredhe’llbeabletohearitabovethesoftelevatormusic.
Heallowsmetostepoutfirst,andIwalktowardmyroom,hyperawareofhissoftfootstepsbehindme.SlowingdownasIreachmydoor,Idecideenoughisenoughandit’stimetotalktohimproperly.Ispinroundsuddenlytofacehim,butthealcoholandtheheelshavemealittleoffbalance.Hegripsmyarmandsteadiesmejustintime.
“Youokay?”heasks.
“Yes,thanks.Sorry.”Itakeadeepbreath.“Ryan,Ishouldsay…uh…well,aboutlastweekend.I’mreallysorryforrunningoutonyoulikethat.”
“Don’tbe,”hesays,hiseyesdroppingtothefloor.“Youweredoingtherightthing.”
“IshouldhavebrokenupwithLiamawhileago.”
“Harper—”
“No,Ineedtosaythis.We’veneededtotalkallweekand—”
“IknowandIwanttotalkaboutit,”heinsists,glancingtothelift.“Butmaybeweshouldgointoaroom?Justsoit’snotso…public.Someoftheotherjournosareonthisfloor,too,andtheycouldcomeupanyminute.”
“You’reright,”Isay,realizingthatthisisabitofanawkwardconversationtohaveinahotelcorridor.“Comeintomine.”
HewaitspatientlyasIfumblewiththedoorandthenfollowsmeintothebedroom,immediatelygroaningashespotsthecontentsofmyweekendbagspillingoutontothefloor.
“Ibetthefirstthingyoudowhenyouarriveatahotelisunpackyourbagandputeverythingawayinthewardrobe,”Isay,sittingontheedgeofthebedandleaningdowntoundothestrapsofmyshoes.“Eventhoughwe’reonlyherefortwodays,Ibetyou’veputeverythingawayneatly,hangingitalluporfoldingitaway.”
“Ofcourse,”hesays,sittingdowninoneoftheplushvelvetarmchairsbythewindow.“ThatwayIcanfindeverythingI’vebroughtwithmeandnothingiscrumpled.”
“Youknowwhatyouneedtodo,Ryan?”
“What’sthat?”
“Livealittle.”
Hesmiles,sittingbackasherestshiselbowsonthearmrestsofthechair.Hewatchesmeintently.Istarebackandlosemyselfinhisblueeyes.RyanJanssonisinmyhotelroom.Thisisdangerousterritory.Andthrilling.
IswallowthelumpinmythroatasItakehimin.Hisexpressionsoftens,likeheunderstandsthatI’mreallyseeinghim.Hislipstwitchasthoughfightingasmile.Isuddenlyfeelembarrassedforstaringanddropmyeyestotheground.
“Whatdidyouwanttosayaboutlastweekend?”heprompts.
Inodandtakeadeepbreath,studyingthecarpet.“IwantedtotellyouthatbreakingupwithLiamwasexactlywhatIhadbeenplanningtodo.Whathappenedbetweenusmayhavebeenacatalyst,butIdidn’twantyouthinkingthatI’mupsetaboutLiam,becauseI’mnot.I’mgladit’sover.AndI’monlysorrythat…well,I’msorryIhadn’tbrokenupwithhimagesago,tobehonest.”
Hisbrowfurrowsashelistens.“So,youdon’tregretwhathappenedlastweekend?”
Istartleattheidea,joltingmyheaduptolookathim.“Betweenus?No,Idon’tregretwhathappened.Atall.Doyou?”
“No,Harper,”hesays,almostlookingpainedatthequestion.
Hestandsabruptlyandputshishandsinhispockets,turningawaytolookoutthewindow.
“You’vebeenactingstrangethisweek,”Icontinue.“Ithoughtyoumaybecrossatmeorconfusedaboutthekiss.”
Heshakeshishead.“Thisweekhasbeenreallypainful.”
“Why?”
Hehesitatesandthenshrugs.“Ididn’tknowwhatyouwerethinking.”
“Ididn’tknowwhatyouwerethinking.”
Turningfromthewindowtofacemeagain,heasks,“Whatareyouthinking?”
“Youfirst,”Iinsist,juttingoutmychin.
“Fine.”Agitated,herunsahandthroughhishair.“I’mthinkingthat…well,tobehonest,theonlythingIseemtobeabletothinkaboutatthemomentisyou,Harper.Ican’tgetyououtofmyhead.IthoughtImadethisclearelevenyearsago,butmaybeyoudidn’tbelievemeoryouweren’treallylistening.Youhavenoideawhatyoudotome.You’rebeautiful,butit’ssomuchmorethanthat.I’veneverbeenabletotalktoanyonethewayIcantalktoyou.SinceAdamdied,I’dalwaysfeltsoclosedoffandaloneandirrelevant.ThenImetyouand—youmadeeverythingfeelwarmandopenandalive.Theworldseemedokayagain.”
Ismileupathim.
“Youhavenoideahowamazingyouare,”hegoeson.“Doyourealizethateveryoneadoresyou?Imean,everyone.You’resobrilliantatwhatyoudo,butit’sasthoughyouhavenoideajusthowtalentedyouare.Youlightupeveryroomyouwalkinto.Yousomehowturneverythingthat’sgrayandorderlyintoacolorful,giantjumble.You’relikethis…chaotic,shinystar.Ilikedyousomuchwhenwewereinterns.Doyouhaveanyideawhatthatweekendwespenttogethermeanttome?Itwaseverything.”
Hepauses,exhaling.
Warmthpoolsinmystomach,andI’mrenderedspeechless.NoonehaseverseenmelikeRyanclearlydoes,andIfeelasuddenurgetorunoverandholdhim,tobeclosetohim.
Hecalledmeachaotic,shinystar.
Myheartmightjustburst.
“AndthenIlostyou,”hecontinues,agonized,oblivioustotheenamoredtrancehe’sputmein.“WhenIgotthejobatTheCorrespondence,Iknewourpathsweregoingtocross.IthoughtIcouldhandleit;whathappenedbetweenuswasalongtimeago,andatthetime,Ihadagirlfriend.Butthenseeingyou…youactedlikeyoudidn’tknowme,anditwreckedme.Allthesefeelingscamerushingback.I’dalreadyhaddoubtsovertherelationshipIwasin—”
Igasp,clappingahandovermymouth.“Youbrokeupwithyourgirlfriendbecauseofme?Ryan!Weweren’tevenspeaking!”
Heshakeshishead.“MyexandIwereinabadplace.Weweretryingtoignoretheobviouscracks,butwebothknewitwastheendoftheroad.”Hehesitates,shrugging.“ButI’mnotgoingtopretendthatseeingyouagainafterallthoseyearswasn’tsomekindofpromptformetorealizewithabsoluteclaritythatIwasn’twiththepersonIwantedtobewith.”
MyheartisracingandIcan’tstopmyselffromsmiling.Helooksencouragedbythisreactionandcontinues,histonefilledwithurgency.
“Sittingnexttoyouforthelastfewmonths,thinkingthatyoustillcan’tstandmebecauseofastupidmistakeImadealongtimeago—itwasfuckingtorture.AllI’vewantedistopickupwhereweleftoffelevenyearsago.Andthenthatkisslastweekend.Itgaveme…hope.”
Hetakesabreath.Igriptheedgeofthemattress,myknucklesgoingwhite.
“Harper,”hesays,lookingatmepleadingly,“kissingyouwasthebest,mostincrediblethingthat’shappenedtome,becauseyoukissedmeback.AndIhavespentallweekwonderinghowyoufeelandiftheremightbehopeforus,buttellingmyselfnottogetcarriedawayjustincaseitdidn’tmeantoyouwhatitmeanttome.You’refreshoutofabreakupandIdon’twanttobeafleetingfling.Iwanttobesomuchmorethanthattoyou.SoI’mtryingnottojumptoanyconclusionsandtoshowsomekindofrestraint.Butthenhereyouarein…thatdress.Jesus.Youneedtoputmeoutofmymisery.Justtellmewhatyou’rethinking.Please.”
Istareathim,stunned,tryingtoprocesswhathe’sjustsaid.Atorrentofbareemotionthatwasso…perfect.
Ipushmyselfupoffthebedandmakemywayacrosstheroomtostandoppositehim.He’sbreathingheavily,hischestvisiblyrisingbeneathhisshirt.
“Ryan,”Ibegin,“didyoucallme…achaotic,shinystar?”
Hegroans,buryinghisfaceinhishands.“God,yes,Idid.”
“Andyoucallyourselfawriter.”
“Ineverclaimedtobeagoodone,”hemurmursthroughhisfingers.
Itakehishandsinmineandlowerthem,smilingupathim.
“I’vebeenthinkingaboutyouallweek,too.”
Hehesitates,hiseyessearchingmine.“You…youhave?”
“Yes,”Isay,reachingforwardandplacingmyhandsonhissolidchest.“Iwantthis.Whateverthisis.”
Heletsoutasighandthendipshisheadtoresthisforeheadagainstmine,andweremainstilllikethatforafewseconds,savoringthismomentthatfeelsheavywiththeanticipationofwhat’stocome.
Gradually,theenergybetweenusshifts.MyhandsmovedownRyan’schesttohiswaistandIpullhimcloser.Itiltmyheadback,mybreathcatchinginmythroatashislipscrushagainstmine.Hekissesmeslowlyandgently,andImeltintohim,myhandsreachinguptothreadmyfingersthroughhishair,asurgeofreliefandhappinesspulsingthroughmybodythathewantsthisasmuchasIdo.Hekissesmedeeper,movinghislipsdownmyjawline,hiswarm,stronghandsmovingfrommyhipstomylowerbackasIarchagainsthim,myskintinglingbeneathhistouch.Hedropslightkissesdowntheslopeofmyneck,alongmyglitteringcollarbone,nudgingthestrapofmydresswithhislipsuntilitslipsoffmyshoulder.
I’mimpatient,suddenlyoverwhelmedbytheurgencyofwantinghim.Hedoesn’tprotestasIstartfumblingwiththebuttonsofhisshirt,helpingmetogetitoffhimaltogether,shakingitloosedownhisarmsuntilitdropsonthefloor.Pressingmyhandsagainsthisbare,muscularchest,Iguidehimtowardthebedandhesitsdown.Hereachesfor
Hiswarmhandsslideupmythighs,scrunchingmydressaroundmyhips,andalowsoundemitsfromhisthroatashisfingersplayalongthefabricofmythong.Itipmyheadbackashislipsskimmyjaw,andhekissesdowntothebaseofmythroatbeforehishandsmovetothebackofmydress,hisfingersfindingthezipandslowly,carefullypullingitdown.Asthebodiceofthedressloosens,Ipullitovermyheadanddropittothefloor.
Breathingheavily,hepausestotakeamomenttolookatmeproperly,hisblueeyesscanningdownandbackuptomeetminebeforebreakingintoasmilethatmakesmystomachsomersault,andanyshynessIfeltevaporates.Cradlinghisfaceinmyhands,Idipmyheaddownandgivehimaslow,deepkiss,andasheresponds,mywholebodyachesforthisnottobefleeting.
Inoneswiftmove,heliftsmetothesideandmybreathcatchesasheeasesmedown,lyingmebackonthebedasthoughIdon’tweighathing.Mylegsstilllockedaroundhiships,hepressesdownontopofme.Hisfingerstanglethroughmyhairashislipshungrilyfindmine,hiskissessuddenlydeeper,moreurgent.Isinkmynailsintotheskinofhisshoulderblades,andmyteethcatchhisbottomlip,causinghimtoletoutasmall,involuntarygroan.Ireachdowntoundohisbelt,thenhistrousers,andhehelpsmewiththetask,pushingthemdownbelowhiships.
Shiftingbeneathhim,IliftmyhandtopushhishairbackfromhisforeheadsoIcanlookathimproperly.Idon’twantthistobeahazyblur;Iwanttobeabletoremember.Atmyslowingdown,Isensehimhesitateandmyinstinctivereactionistogriphimtighter,desperatenottolosethismoment,thisperfectmomentthatIsuddenlyrealizeI’vebeenlongingfor.Icanfeelhowmuchhewantsmewhenhe’spressedthisclose,andI’machingforhimtobecloser.
“Doyouhaveacondom?”heasks,hisvoiceragged,hiseyeslockedonmine.
Irelax,breakingintoasmileofrelief.“You’retellingmeyoudon’tcarrythemaroundinyourpocketonworktrips?”
“Funnilyenough,no,”hechucklessoftly,leaningintograzemyneckwithhislips.
“Notlikeyoutobesounprepared,Ryan.Imustsay,I’malittlebitdisappointedinyou.”
“I’llmakeupforit.Andtrustme,”hesays,hiswarmbreathticklingmyear,“it’sagoodthingthatIwasn’tpreparedforthistonight.”
“Andwhyisthat?”
Heliftshisheadagain,hisfacehoveringabovemine.
“BecauseifI’dknownthiswascoming,Iwouldn’thavewastedamomentonanythingelse,”hesayssimply.“Notthedinner,notthecocktails,notthepeople.Iwouldn’thavewastedonemoremoment,Harper.”
GoosebumpscovermyskinasIgazeupintohiseyes.Iswallowandthensay,“Wellit’sagoodthingthatoneofusisprepared,”andIgesturetowardthebathroom.
RyansmilesanddrawsawayandItakeamomenttocatchmybreath.Whenhereappears,thesightofhisalready-disheveledhair;histoned,muscularchest,abs,andarms;hisglitteringeyes;andhisknowingsmiledoessomethingstrangetomychest.MyheartfluttersandI’mconsumedbyasurgeofdizzyingexhilarationashemakeshiswaybacktome
Ican’tbelievehewantsmeasmuchasIwanthim.
“Areyousureyouwanttodothis?”hechecks,leaningovermeagain,hislipsbrushingagainstmine.
“Yes,”Isayfirmly,alreadyarchingintohim.
Nomorehesitations.Nomorepauses.We’vewaitedlongenough.Ipullhismouthtomineandwekisssodeeply,itsendsaseriesofshiversdownmyspine.Ryan’shandsslipdown,overmyhipboneandundermythong,andIhavejustlongenoughtospareagratefulthoughtforbringingthissexyunderwearonthetripbeforeit’shardtothinkaboutanythingatall.SomethingaboutRyan’shandsonmefeelsbetterthanit’severfeltwithanyoneelse,andIwonderfleetinglyifit’sbecauseheknowsmesowell—thismanunderstandsmeineveryway.
Ilosemyselfbeneathhisfingers,andit’shardtotellhowmuchtimehaspassed:itfeelsasthoughtheworldhasshrunktothetwoofusinthisbed.Whenthemomentcomestosliponthecondom,Ryan’shandstrembleasheripsopenthefoil.Idon’tthinkI’veeverwantedanythingasmuchasIwanthiminsideme.
Whenhefinallypushesintome,Igasp.Hebeginsslowandsensuous,thenmovesfaster,anditfeelssogood,Ican’tbelievewe’vewastedsomuchtimenotdoingthis.It’sdifferentthanhowitwaselevenyearsago—he’smoreconfidentandpassionate,Ifeellesstentativeandawkward.Ilosemyselfintheintensepleasureofeverythinghe’sdoingtome:hislightkissesalongmycheekbone,hishotshallowbreathinmyear,hishandsroamingovermybody,oneclaspingmywaist,theotherdippingundermybacktorockmeintohim.
Breathless,Iclosemyeyes,clutchinghim.
Itallseemssoclearnow.Ineverwanttoletgo.CHAPTERNINETEEN
IntheGalleriadell’Accademia,Ryantakesmyhandinhisandliftsit,kissingmyknuckleswhennooneislooking.Atlunch,wesitnexttoeachotherandpretendtolistentotheconversationwhileourkneespressagainsteachotherunderthetable,sendingtinglesdownmyspine.AfterbuyinggelatofromMercatoCentrale,wehangbackwhilethegroupmeandersthroughthecrowdandhewaitsuntilthey’veturnedacornerbeforewrappinghisarmaroundmywaist,pullingmeclosetohimandkissingme,hislipscoldandsweetfromtheicecream.Wehaveastaringcompetitionduringthewinetastingatthevineyard,andIofferhimaseductivesmileasIswirlthewinearoundmyglass,andlater,whenwefindourselvesalonestrollingthroughtheolivetrees,splitfromthegroup,wekisswithmybackagainstthetreeashewhispersintomyearthatI’mdrivinghimcrazy.
WedriftaroundFlorencelikewe’reinamoviemontage,grinningfromeartoear,stealingkisseswhennoone’slooking,gigglingliketeenagers.Idon’twanttogobacktoEngland,whereRyanandIworktogetheranditgetscomplicated.IwanttostayhereinItalyandliveataluxuryhotelandeatdeliciousfoodanddrinkincrediblewineandhavemind-blowingsexwithRyanbeforefallingasleepinhisarms.
It’sperfecthere.
AndIguessthat’spartoftheproblem,theworrynigglingatthebackofmyheadwhenIwakeupnexttohimthemorningwe’reduetoflyhome.Whathappensnow?Arewegoingtostart…dating?Isthatevenallowedwhenweworktogether?
ItseemsridiculousthatRyancouldmakemethishappy.Thisistheguywhopushesmybuttonslikenooneelse;whohumiliatedmewhenIwasyoungandna?ve;wholiedtomethenandcouldverywellbelyingtomenow.
ButthisisalsotheguywhoknowsIlikehoneyinmytea;whoreadsallmyarticlesdespiteoftenhavingnoideawhothecelebrityinquestionevenis;whoopensuptomeinawayhedoesn’taroundotherpeople;whodeliveredababyinthebackofataxiwiththejacketofhistux;wholooksatmelikeIhavetheanswerstoallofhisquestions;andwhohasthekindofeyesthatmakemeforgetaboutsayingordoinganythingsensiblewhatsoever.
“Youreyesaresogorgeous,”Iblurtedouttohimlastnightinbed,aftersneakingofffromthegroupearlyagainastheycelebratedthefinalnightwithespressomartinisbythepool.
“Youthinkso?”hesaid,movinghispillowclosertomineaswefacedeachothersoournoseswerealmosttouching.
“Ohplease,don’tactasthoughyouhaven’tbeencomplimentedonthemyourwholelife.Theyhauntedme,youknow.AfterIleftTheDailyBulletin,Icouldn’tstopthinkingaboutyourdamneyes.”
“DoyouthinkifI’dmusteredthecouragetoknockonyourparents’doorafterthatwholedebacle,wemighthavebeenabletoworkitout?”heasked,reachingovertobrushmyhairawayfrommyface.“IfI’dexplainedthatI’dkeptthejobnewstomyselfbecauseIlikedyousomuch,andIdidn’twanttoloseyou—doyouthinkyouwouldhaveunderstood?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isighed.“Iwasprettypissedatyou.Andveryfocusedonmycareer.Iprobablywouldn’thavewantedtolistentoyou.”
“ButifI’dfoughtforyouabitharder,thingsmighthaveturnedoutsodifferently.”
“Ithinkthey’veturnedoutallright,”Ireasoned.“Maybeitwasbetterthatwewerebroughtbacktogetheratthistimeinourlives.Weweresoyoungthen.”
“That’strue.Although,”hesaid,aknowingsmilespreadingacrosshisface,“youhaven’texactlymadeourreunionsmoothsailing.”
“Me?Whataboutyou?DisagreeingwitheverythingIsayatwork.”
“Youdisagreewithme.EvenwhenIknowyouthinkI’mright.”
“Iwouldneverbesopetty.”
Hegavemealook.“Youwouldabsolutelybesopetty.”
“Saystheguywhoracedmetothetubeafterabookevent.”
“Youracedme.”Hechuckled.“YouhateitwhenIwinanything.”
“Onlybecauseyoudothatsmile.”
“Whatsmile?”
“Thatmockingsmile,”Iexplained.“It’slikethisverysmallsmirkwheneverIarguemypointwithyouorendupmakingafoolofmyselforsaysomethingaboutcelebrities.YougetthislittleteasingsmileonyourfaceandIwanttowipeitrightoffwithcunningwords.”
Helaughed.“Youareverycunning.Butwait,youthinkI’mmockingyou?”Hisfaceturnedmoreserious.“Harper,Ihavenoideawhatsmileitisexactlythatyou’retalkingabout,butIcanassureyou,I’mnotteasingyou.Youjust…Idon’tknow…sometimesyousaythingsand—”
Irolledmyeyes.“Iamuseyou.”
“Yes!No,wait.Notinabadway,”hefumbled.“Asin,Ifindyoufascinating.Inagoodway!WhatI’mtryingtosayis,youmakemesmile.That’sit.AndifitlookssecretiveorthatIonlydoitaroundyou,thatprovesmypoint—you’retheonlypersonwhomakesmesmilelikethat.”Hehesitated.“AmIdoingwellhereordiggingmyselfintoahole?”
“Actually,you’redoingprettygood,”Isaid,edgingalongthepillowtokisshim.“Iliketheideaofasecretivesmilejustforme.Betterthanyousnickeringatme,whichiswhatIthoughtyouweredoing.”
“Ionlysnickeratyouwhenyoumakeabsurdclaims,likethatyouknowthingsaboutlandminesandthatyouwonthatroundersgame.”
Ijoltedmyheadbackindignantly.“Ididwinthatroundersgame!”
“Uh-huh,”hesaid,loopinghisarmaroundmywaistandpullingmebackover,“youkeeptellingyourselfthat,butwebothknowthetruth.Andanyway,I’mveryhappytoletyoucomefirstinotheractivities,”headdedinalowgrowl,kissingmyneck.
Itwasveryhardtoarguewithhimaboutthat.
It’simportantthatwhateverthisiswithRyan,Idon’trushit.Becausethat’stheproblemwithbeingabroad;youloseallsenseofnormalcyandjumpheadfirstintorelationshipsthatcrumbletheminutethewheelsoftheplanehitthatrunwayonhomesoil.Becauseit’snotreallife.
Reallifeismuchmorecomplicated,likeworkingsidebysideandbeingpittedagainsteachotherbyCosmooverfeatures.Moreover,Ryanhasclearlybuiltuptheideaofmeinhisheadforalongtime,andinFlorenceheexperiencedthe“holidayme,”notthe“actualme.”He’senjoyedsexyblackthongsandmatchingbrasandsleepingnakedandhighlighteracrossmycollarbones.Hehasn’thadtoputupwithmedashingoutondinnerdatesbecauseI’vegotaVIPcall.Hehasn’tseentheunderwearIactuallywearonaday-to-daybasis,whichisusuallyflesh-coloredandnevermatching.
Ishestillgoingtobefilledwithtorturousdesiresittingnexttomewhenheknowsthat,undermyworkclothes,I’mwearingSpanx?
Unlikely.
MymindisracingandI’mtemptedtogetupandstartpackingearly,justsoIhavesomethingelsetothinkabout,butRyanstirsnexttomeandhiseyelashesflutterasheslowlywakesup.
Istarewide-eyedbackathim.
“Hey,”hemurmurs,hisvoicecroakywithsleep.
“Idon’tusuallywearmatchingunderwear,”Iblurtout.
Hefrowns,squintingatme.“Huh?”
“Ithinkit’simportantyouknowthat.”
“Uh…okay,cool.”Heliftshisheadoffthepillow,leaningonhiselbow.“Areyouallright?”
Itakeadeepbreath.Iwanttostayinthemoment,butIalsodon’twanttokeepthingsfromhim.“Yeah.I’vebeenthinkingaboutwhathappenswhenwegetbackhome.Betweenus,Imean.”
“Whatwouldyouliketohappen?”heasks.
“Whatwouldyouliketohappen?”
Helooksmeintheeyes.“Iwouldliketocontinuethis.”
“Sleepingtogether?”Isay,knowingthatI’mtestinghim.
“Amongotherthings,”hesays,positioninghispillowtorestagainsttheheadboardandthensittingup,leaningbackagainstit.“Iwanttotakeyououtondates.Iwanttospendrealtimetogether,outsideofwork.AsfarasI’mconcerned,I’mallin.Ifyouwouldlikethat?”
Inodslowly.“Andwhataboutwork?”
“Whataboutit?”
“We’llhavetokeepitsecret,won’twe?Everyonewouldgossip,anditwouldbehorrible.Weneedtoremainstrictlyprofessionalintheoffice.That’simportant,Ryan.Nospecialtreatment,nothinglikethat.Atwork,we’recolleagues,nothingelse.”
CanyouimagineifCosmofoundoutthatthatRyanandIweresleepingtogether?Healreadyhaslittletonorespectformeasitis,butthrowinaromanticentanglementwithacolleagueandhe’llconsidermeatotallaughingstock.It’snotthatIvalueCosmo’sopinion,butlikeitornot,heismyboss,andIdon’twanttopushhimtoofar.It’sdepressingtothinkthat,ifwordgotout,therewouldbefewerconsequencesforRyanthantherewouldbeforme.Iwishitwasn’tthatway,butwithsomeonelikeCosmoatthehelm,there’snodoubtinmymindthatitwouldbeso.Betternottoriskit.
“Okay.Whateveryouwant.”Ryansmilesatme.
“What?You’redoingthatsmilethingagain.”
“I’mwonderinghowlongyou’vebeenstressingoverthis.”
“I’mnotstressed.Ifanyone’sthestressedonebetweenus,that’syou.I’mtheeasygoingone.”
“Usually,”headmits,beforeshrugging.“Andyethereweare,rolesreversed.Maybethingshavechangednow.”
“Howso?”Iaskasheswingshislegsoutofbedandheadstothebathroom.
“MaybeI’mgettingtoyou,MissJenkins,”hecallsoverhisshoulder,grinningwidelyatmebeforeshuttingthedoorbehindhim.
IsitthereinadazeasIhearthesoundoftheshowerturningon.Thethingis,he’sright.
Despiteallmybesteffortssincehewaltzedbackintomylife,I’vefallenheadoverheelsforRyanJansson.
AndallIcanthinkasIstarttopackmysuitcaseis:Pleasedon’thurtmeagain.
Idon’tknowwhyIwassoworriedaboutcominghome.
Everythingisgoingsurprisinglywell.AsfarasIcantell,Ryanisstillintome,despitemynormaldailyunderwear,andnooneattheofficehascaughtontooursecret.Well,exceptforMimi,whoIobviouslytoldstraightawayandisalreadyourbiggestfan.
IdoneedtotellherthetruthaboutmyhistorywithRyan,though.Atfirst,Isimplydidn’twanttotalkaboutit,butnowitfeelslikeI’mlyingtoher.
Datinghasn’tbeeneasyformeinthepastbecauseI’vealwaysfeltlikeIhadtochoosebetweenromanceandmycareer.ButoneofthebestthingsaboutRyanisthatifanyoneunderstandsmyworkethic,it’shim.
Webothappreciatethedemandsofthejob—ifoneofushastogettoanimportantintervieworworkthroughdinnertohitadeadline,it’snotanissue.I’mnotfilledwithguiltallthetime,nordoIfeeltheneedtojustifytypinglateintothenight.
WhenwetellCosmoabouttheIsabellaBlossomscoop,includingthedetailsofthebirthinthebackofthetaxi,heissoecstaticthatheyells,“CLEARTHEFRONTCOVER!”fromhisoffice,throwingeveryoneintoutterconfusion.
“Ryan,yougenius!”Cosmoexclaims,standingupfromhisdesktogivehimacongratulatoryhandshake.“They’llbetalkingaboutthisstoryforyearstocome.Ha!OneofmyjournalistsdeliveringaHollywoodactress’sbaby.Youcan’tmakeupthisshit.”
“Harperplayedtheleadrole,”Ryanpresses.“Shewastheonewho—”
“Yes,welldone,nowoffyougoandletmeknowthemomentyou’vegottheinterviewbookedin,”Cosmosays,usheringusout.“Ineedtotellthepublishersthatoursalesnumbersaregoingtoskyrocketwhenthishitsthestands.Weneededawin.”
“Why?”Iask,concernedbyhistone.“Iseverythingokay?”
Heshootsmeapatronizinglook.“Funnilyenough,thingsaren’thunky-doryinthemediaindustry,Harper.Wecan’tallliveinafairytalelandoffluffycelebrities.Behindthesceneswe’redealingwithashitstormthankstothatlittle-knownthreatcalleddigital.Magazinesareadyingbreed.Salesnumbersmatter.”
“Shewasonlyaskingif—”Ryanbegins,butheiscutoffbyCosmo.
“Goon,andgetthesocialmediateamprepared,Iwantthistobepickedupbyeverypublicationinthecountry,gotit?Ihavetomakesomephonecalls,”heconcludes,shooingusout.
RyanseemsannoyedatmyrolebeingsobrazenlyoverlookedbyCosmo,butItellhimI’musedtoitandnottoworry.Butnonetheless,heinsistsoncookingmedinnertocheermeup,anofferIeagerlyaccept.I’vereallytriedhardtokeepmyflatingoodshapesincewegotback,becauseIknewthefirsttimeRyancameover,hewouldenterwithadiscerningeye.Iadmit,I’mquiteenjoyingbeingatidierperson,becauseIdofindthingsmuchfaster.Itisalotmoreeffort,though,andIcan’tbeperfect—andassoonasRyanarriveswithabagfullofgroceries,Inoticehimclocktherippedcardboardstrewnacrossthesofa.Icantellbyhiseyesthatit’skillinghim,eventhoughhe’spretendingnottonoticeit.
“Ihadafewbookdeliveriesearlier,”Iadmitashestartsunloadingtheshoppingonthekitchencounter.“I’llputthatallintherecycling.”
“Glassofwine?”heoffers,andIwonderifthecardboardisdrivinghimtodrink.
“Yes,please.Ineedit,”Isay,leaningagainstthekitchencounterandwatchinghimlookfortwoglassesinthecupboardbeforegivingupandopeningtheclean,loadeddishwasher.“Mybosswasanassholetoday.”
“Isthatright?”hesays.“That’sterrible.Thankgoodnessyouhavearavishinglyhandsomecolleaguetomakeyourdayseemthatbitbetter.”
“You’reright.Mimiisravishinglyhandsome.”
Hechuckles,andashepoursthewine,Imovetocomebehindhimandwrapmyarmsaroundhiswaist.Heletsoutacontentedsigh,turningroundtofaceme.
“Secondtimeinaweekyou’vecomeheretocookmedinner.Icouldgetusedtothis.”Igrinupathim,restingmychinagainsthischest.
“Yeah?Metoo,”hesays,placingasoftkissonmylips.Hehesitatesandsmilesagainstmymouth.“Although,I’denjoycookingherealittlebetterifallthecrockerywasintherightplace…”
“Areyouinsultingmykitchenarrangement?”
“Itmakesnosensetohavetheplatesinadrawerthattheydon’tfitinto.Whywouldn’tyouhaveplatesandbowlsallinoneplace,likeacupboardforexample?”
“Iliketheplatesbeingatreachingdistancefromthestove.”
Hefrowns.“Butonlyhalfofthemcanfitinthatdrawer.”
“I’monlyonelittleperson.”Ishrug.“Idon’tneedsixplatesavailabletomeonawhim.AllIneedisoneplatewaitingformeinthatdrawerandI’msorted.”
Liftinghiseyestotheceilingindespair,hesighs.“IfIopenthisdrawernow,howmanyplatesaregoingtobeinthere?WouldIberightinguessingtherearenonebecausethey’reallinthedishwasher?”
“Youknowwhatyouneedtodo,Ryan?”Isayinnocently.
“Livealittle?”heguesses.
Ilaugh,releasinghimfrommyembraceandgoingtoopenthedishwasher,bendingdownandpassinghimtwocleanplates,beforeshuttingitagain.Helookspained.
“Bloodyhell,”Isay,puttingmyhandsonmyhips,“youwon’tstartcookinguntilthedishwasherisunloaded,willyou?”
“I’mnotproudtoadmitthis,butitputsmestartlinglyonedge,”hegrimaces,comingovertohelpmeasIpullthedoordownagain.“Anddon’tgetmestartedonyourdishwashertechnique.Howanythinggetscleanedinherewhenyoupileitupinthishaphazardwayisamiracle.”
Ilethimlecturemeonthebestwayofarrangingthecutleryinthedishwasherbecauseit’sveryniceofhimtocookandhelooksverysexywhenhetalkspassionatelyaboutsomething,hisforeheadcreasedinsternconcentration.Florencewasgreat,butI’mdiscoveringthatIliketheversionofushere,too,bickeringoverplatesandbowls,comfortingeachotherafterabaddayatwork.SmallmomentswithRyanseemasmeaningfulasthebigones.
Later,myphonerings,andwhenIseeit’smydadcalling,Igroan,pushingitawayalittletooenthusiastically.Itfliesoffthetable,clatteringontothefloor.
“Whoops,”Isay,checkingthatthescreenisn’tmorecrackedthanitalreadywas.
“Whowasthat?”Ryanaskscuriously.
“Mydad.I’llmessagehimlater.”
“Youcancallhimbacknowifyouwantto.”
Ishoothimalook.
“Ornot,”hechuckles,recoilingundermyglare.“Youwanttotalkaboutit?”
“What?”
“Yourparents,”hesaysgently.
Ipause,reachingformywineandtakingasipforcourage.“Wehaven’tseeneachotherinawhile,”Isayfinally.“IthinkthelasttimewasEaster.Itdidn’tgowell.Wehadahugerow.Idon’tknowwhytheyinsistonmeetingfordinner.Noonehasagoodtime.Weshouldgiveup.Ihonestlydon’tknowwhywebother.”
Ryanlistensintently,waitingformetosaymore.WhenIstaysilent,hesayssimply,“Becausethey’reyourparents.”
“Yeah,well,theywishtheyweren’t,”Imutterglumly,pickingupmywineagainandthistimetakingalargeglug
Hewatchesmecarefully.“You’reseeingthemfordinnersoon,then?”
“Nextweek.”
“Doyouwantmetocomewithyou?”
Isnapmyheaduptocheckhe’sbeingserious.“What?”
“Ifyouwantsomemoralsupport,Icouldcomewithyou,”hesuggestscalmly,lookingcompletelyunfazedbytheidea
“Ryan,youdon’tknowwhatthey’relike.Youdonotwanttoputyourselfinthissituation,trustme.Avoidatallcosts.”
“Iknowthatyoufindittoughtospendtimewiththem,andIwanttosupportyou.Itdoesn’tmattertomehowtheeveninggoes,aslongasyou’reokay.”
Istareathim.Holdingmyeyecontact,heputshisforkdownandleansforward,restinghischininhispalm.
“UnlesswhatI’vejustsaidhascompletelyfreakedyouout,inwhichcase,pleaseforgetit,”hesaysslowly,scrutinizingmyexpression.“Igetthatthisisallverynew,soifyouthinkitwouldbeinappropriate,thenthat’sabsolutelyfine.Ijustdon’tliketheideaofyoufacingthatkindofeveningalone,soifyouneedafriendlyface,thenI’llbethere.That’sall.”Hepauses.“Harper?Areyougoingtosaysomething?Youwantmetotalkaboutcutleryarranginginthedishwasheragaintomakethislessawkward?”
“No,no,”Isay,breakingintoasmile.“It’sreallyniceofyoutooffer.Iwouldlikethatverymuch.”
Hiseyeslightupandhesitsbackinrelief.“Phew!Foraminutethere,IthoughtIwasagoner.”
“No,Iwasjustprocessinghowlovelyyouare,”Iassurehim,elatedattheideaofnothavingtofacethemaloneforonce.“Butifyouchangeyourmind,pleasedon’tworry.”
“Iwon’t,”hesaysconfidently.
“Areyousure?Bigdeal,meetingtheparents.”
Heshrugs.“Notreally.Youmetmine.”
“Inaprofessionalcapacity.Tothem,Iwasyourcolleague.”
“Myparentsaren’tidiots,Harper,”hesays,pickinguphisforkagainanddiggingintohismeal.“Theyknewexactlywhoyouweretome.”CHAPTERTWENTY
Whensomethingstartsgoingwronginanareaofmylife,Igointooverdriveatwork.Myjobmakesmefeelincontrol:IknowwhatI’mdoingthere,and,withperseveranceandfocus,IalmostalwaysgetwhatIwant.Ifthere’ssomeoneIwanttointerview,I’llgotounusuallengthstogetthemonboard;ifIwanttocoverastory,evenifCosmoisagainstitinitially,I’llfindanotherwayofpackagingitthathe’llagreeto.It’srarethatIlose.
I’mcurrentlyonamissiontofindoutwhat’sgoingonwithArtistry.Noonehasgottheinsidescoopyetontheill-fatedreuniontour,soI’mdetermineditwillbemewhogetsthelowdown.
AndthereasonI’mputtingallmyfocusintothis?Ryan.
Somethingisoff.
Lastweek,everythingwasfine,betterthanfine.Thingsweregreat.IfeltlikeIwaswalkingaroundonacloud,suddenlyunderstandingwhatpeoplemeanwhentheysayhowfallingforsomeonecanmakeyoudelirious.Iwasinfatuatedwithhim,entrancedbyeverythinghedid.
Myheartflutteredwhenheshotmeasecretivesmileintheoffice.IhardlyheardawordanyonesaidintheeditorialmeetingsbecauseIwasstudyingthelineofRyan’ssculptedjawandtheperfectslopeofhisnoseandthinkingaboutthesoftnessofhislips,gettingshuddersofexcitementwhenIimaginedkissinghimlater.Ilovedthathewassternandseriousatwork.Itamusedmethatpeoplethoughthewasquietandguarded.Ienjoyedthewayhefrowned,hisbrowtightlyfurrowed,whenhestudiedthelayoutsofthemagazine.Hiseditswerebrilliant.Hisideas,astounding.RyanJanssonwassomethingelseandIcouldn’tquitebelievehewasmine.
Andthesecrecyofitallmadeitevenmoreexciting.
Iwasn’tsureI’deverfeltlikethisbefore—excitableanddistracted,vulnerableandopen.Itwasamazingandterrifyingatthesametime.Usually,I’mabletokeepalevelheadinarelationship,tofocusonworkandnotletmyselfgetcarriedawaylikeana?ve,lovestruckteenager,butwithRyan,itwasdifferent.Iwantedtogetcarriedaway.Theworldsuddenlyfeltlikeabeautifulanddizzyingplace,andthatwasalldowntohim.Itwasmadness,butIdidn’tcare.
IrealizedImightjustbefallinginlove—andwhenIcaughtRyanlookingatmeinacertainway,Iallowedmyselftobelievehewas,too.
ThenMondayhappened.
Somethingchangedthatafternoon.Ryanhadamorningofmeetings,andthensuddenlyhewasdistant,cold,guarded.Thelonginglooksvanished.Hecouldbarelymeetmyeye,evenwhendiscussingwork-relatedthings.Thosesecretivesmilesthatmademeweakatthekneeswerereplacedwithirritablefrowns.Ithoughthemightbehavingabadday,soImessagedhimaskinghimifhe’dlikemetocookforhimthatnight,andwhenIsaidcook,Iobviouslymeantordersomekindofdelicioustakeaway.Hesentacold,tersereplythathehadtoworklate.IsuggestedTuesdaynightinstead,butthatdidn’tworkforhim,either.Sorry,hesaid.
Thedoubtwasimmediate,consumingmybrain,devouringmyheart.
IscrutinizedeverywordI’dsaid,everythingI’ddoneovertheweekend,desperatelytryingtoworkoutwhereI’dgonewrong.WhenIcouldn’tthinkofanythingthatwouldputhimoffsoabruptly,Iputitdowntothingssimplymovingtooquickly.We’djumpedinheadfirstanditwastoomuch;he’dgottenspooked.TheFlorencebubblehadbeenintense,andnowwesaweachothereveryday.Yes,heclaimedtohavewantedthisforalongtime,and,yes,hemadeoutasthoughhewasallinandalwayshadbeen.
Butpeopledon’talwaysknowwhat’sbestforthem.
Thebubblehadofficiallyburst.
Weneededsomedistanceandspace.Ihadtoembracehispullingawayfrommeasanopportunityformetopullawayfromhim.
So,work,asusual,savedme.
Inthemidstoffillingmydiarywithworkevents,beratingmyselfforlosingmyheadinthecloudslastweekandmissingsomenetworkingopportunities,IremembertheTwitterstormoverArtistryannouncingtheyhadnointentionofdoingareuniontour.Itrycallingtheiragent,butthepersonmanningtheirphoneiswell-rehearsedand,inanadmirablypolitevoice,repeatedlytellsmetheagentisunabletospeakrightnow.
Thatevening,whilewanderingaroundmybedroomwearingafacemaskandtryingnottostressoverRyan,Ihaveabrainwave.Afewyearsago,theleadguitarist,DylanKnox,tookastabatacting.HehadabitpartinaHollywoodfilmthatfloppedand,afterthat,appearedinthepilotofasitcomthatdidn’tgetpickedup.Justbeforethefilmrelease,hedidaninterviewwiththatsmarmyjournalistJonathanCliff.Dylansaidhehadalwayswantedtotryhishandatactingandhehadhighhopes,andJonathanwrotethathecouldsensethatDylanhadwhatittakes.Afewweekslater,JonathanClifftweetedthathe’dseenthemovieandhopedthatDylanKnoxdidn’tgiveuphisdayjob.
IgostraighttoGoogleandbeginsearchingfortheagentwhoworkedwithDylanKnoxonhisactingcareer,toseeifitwasanyoneIknow.WhenIseeonenameinparticularcomeuponmyscreen,Ibreakintoawidegrin.
Isetmyalarmfor5:55A.M.,5:57A.M.,6A.M.,6:03A.M.,and6:05A.M
IreachTheLarkcaféinSohoatquarterpastseven.
Ileanagainstabrickwallandenjoymyflatwhiteintheearlymorningsunshine,scrollingthroughsocialmediatomakesureIdidn’tmissanybreakingcelebritynewsovernight.
Athalfpastseven,IspotShamariwalkingtowardTheLark,hereyesfixedonherphoneasshetypes.Smilingatherpromptness,Iputmyphoneawayandwaitforhertoemergefromthecaféwithhercoffeeinhand.
“Shamari!”Isay,boundinguptoherandmakingherjump.
“Harper,”shegasps,stoppinginhertracks.“Yougavemeaheartattack!”
“Wehavegottostopbumpingintoeachotherlikethis.Areyoustalkingme?”
Asmilecreepsacrossherlips.“Intwentyminutes,Ihaveameetingwithaparticularlydifficult,rude,andcurrentlyverypissed-offactorwho’sjustbeendroppedfromaprojectandwillbetakinghisfrustrationoutonme,soyouhadbettergettothepartwhereyoutellmewhatyouwant,pronto.Ineedtogettomydeskandpreparemyselffor
“Whywastheactordroppedfromtheproject?”
Shebrushesmyquestionasidewithawaveofherhand.“Creativedifferences.”
“Ilovethatphrase.Doyouevergettotellanyonethetruthaboutwhyanactorisdroppedfromafilm?”Iask,fallingintostepwithherasshespeedwalkstoheroffice.
“No,”shereplies.“Now,comeon.Whoareyouafterthistime?”
“DylanKnox.”
Sheraiseshereyebrows.“OfArtistry?You’rebarkingupthewrongtree,Harper.”
“Yourepresentedhimduringhisshort-livedactingcareer.”
“Alifetimeago.”
“Notthatlongago,”Ireason.“BetyoucanstillcontacthimandI’llalsobetthathe’sabigfanofyours.”
“Whywouldyouthinkthat?”sheaskscuriously.
“Becauseeveryoneisabigfanofyours.Eventheactorwho’sgoingtoyellatyouthismorning.”
Shebreaksintoareluctantsmile.“Youreallylivebythephrase‘flatterygetsyoueverywhere,’don’tyou?”
“Isitgettingmesomewhereinthisinstance?”
Shegivesmealook.“We’llsee.Whydoyouwanttospeaktohim?”
“Youknowwhy.Thereuniontourthatneverwas.Iwanttoknowwhathappenedandwhethertheremightbeachanceoffixingit.”
Shestopsandturnstomeindisbelief.“YouthinkyoumightbeabletotalktoDylanKnoxandpersuadehimtoreuniteArtistryforareuniontour?You’regood,Harper,butnooneisthatgood.”
“Now,haven’tyoueverheardtheexpression‘Youwon’tknowuntilyoutry’?”
“WhatmakesyouthinkthatArtistrymightbepersuadedbyajournalistofallpeople?”
Ishrug.“Becauseajournalistisverygoodwithwords.Andwordsarepowerful,Shamari.Anyway,I’mnotsayingthatmygoalistogetaworld-famousbandbacktogether—Isimplywanttointerviewhim.Seeifthere’sanyhope.”
“Ithoughtyoudidn’tgoinforgossip.”
“Look,maybeit’snoneofmybusinesswhythetourissuddenlyoffthetable,butperhapsiftheytalkedaboutwhatwentwrong,theymightironouttheirissues.Italwayshelpstotalktosomeone.Iwantthatsomeonetobeme.”
“So,youwantmetogetintouchwithDylanKnoxtoseeifthere’sanychancehe’lldoaninterviewwithyou?”
“TodiscussthelegendaryimpactthatArtistrymade—andcouldstillmake,”Iemphasize.“Askhimtoconsiderit.Wecantalkaboutwhateverhewants.Maybethere’ssomethinghewantstosay.AndyouknowthatI’majournalisthecantrust.”
Shetakesamomenttoconsidermyproposition.“Look,Harper,IknowthatwemanagedtogetAudreyAbbotonboard,butthisisadifferentkettleoffish.Shehadaplayintheworks.DylanKnoxdoesn’thaveanythingtopromote.”
“Yet.”
Sherollshereyes,butIcantellshe’scomingroundtotheidea.“Youareaforcetobereckonedwith,HarperJenkins.Doyoueverletyourselfhaveasociallife?”
“Probablyasmuchasyoudo.”
“How’sthathandsomeboyfriendofyoursthatImetatthecharityball?”
“Webrokeup.”
“Ohno!Why?”
“Creativedifferences.”
Shegivesmeaknowingsmile.“Allright.I’llletyouknowifIhavetimetoreachouttoDylanKnoxtoday.Ican’tpromisethathe’lllistentome—it’snotlikeweworktogetheranymore.I’mnothisagent.”
“Lastnight,IrereadthatinterviewhedidforExpressionwithJonathanCliff.Hewassopassionateaboutacting,andyouknowwhat?Hewasn’tbad.Themoviewasbad.Thescriptwasbad.Hedidwellwithwhathehad.”
“That’swhatItoldhim.”
“Maybethisisagoodtimeforyoutwotoreconnectinaprofessionalcapacity,”Iencourage,sensinganopeningandgoingwithit.“AsecondwindforDylanKnox—apotentialreuniontourandperhapsevenabrand-newmovieroleortwo?‘Ifatfirstyoudon’tsucceed’andallthat.”
Iseethewheelsturninginherhead.“IsupposeImightbeabletogethimacoupleofauditions.Artistryhavebeeninthepressagainrecently.”
“Everyonelovesacomeback,”Iremindhereagerly.
“Don’ttheyjust.”Shechecksherphone.“Shit,Ihavetogo.I’llbeintouch—andI’mguessingI’llseeyoutonight?”
Ilookatherblankly.“Tonight?”
“TheBritishSilverScreenAwards.Iwouldassumeyou’regoing?”
“Oh!Right,yes,ofcourse.That’stonight.Seeyouthere.”
Shenodsandpushesthedoorintoherbuilding.
“SHIT!”Icryoutonceshe’soutofsight,shockingthecommuterspassingby.
IcompletelyforgotabouttheBritishSilverScreenAwardsanddidn’tbringachangeofoutfittotheoffice.Checkingthetime,IweighupwhetherIcanheadbackhome,grabadressandsomeshoes,andmakeittotheofficefortheeditorialmeeting.
It’simpossible.
Well,Cosmowillrelishtheopportunitytotellmeoff,whichishisfavoritethingtodo.AndheonlyneedsRyanpresentinthosemeetingsanyway;it’snotlikeanyofmyfeatureswillbebroughtup.Startingofftowardthetube,Ifindanewspringinmystep,gettingthatfamiliarrushofadrenalinethatcomeswhenIknowImightjustlandabigscoop.
It’salreadybeenabusymorninganditlookstobeahecticdayahead.
JustwhatIneeded.I’llbemuchtoodistractedtothinkaboutRyanatall.
Later,Ryantriestotalktome,butIdon’thavetime,andthat’sthehonesttruth.
“Hey,maybewecouldgoforlunchtoday?”hesuggestswhenhecatchesmeoutsidefinishingupaphonecall.
“AfraidIcan’t,”Isay,steppingroundhimtogobacktotheoffice.“Igotheretoolatetotakelunch.I’llbeeatingatmydesk.”
“Howaboutdinnertonight?”heasks,hurryingtocatchupwithme.
“Ihaveplans.”
“Ofcourse,it’sdinnerwithyourparentstonight.”
Oh,bollocks.
“Actually,that’sbeenrearranged,”Ilie,makingamentalnotetorearrangeit.“Ihaveanawardsceremonytonight.”
“Ah.”Henods.“Hey,didyourememberbothshoesthistime?”headds,attemptingtolightenthetone,butI’mnothavinganyofit.
“Yes,”Isaymatter-of-factly,gettingintotheliftandpressingthebutton
“Harper,”hebeginsasthedoorsshutandwefindourselvesalone,“I’dreallyliketofindsometimetotalktoyou.”
“Sorry,Ryan,buttodayisnotagoodday,”Isay,lookingstraightahead.“Andanyway,youhaven’treallygivenmetheimpressionthatyou’vewantedtotalktomeatallrecently.”
Iseeinthereflectionofthesilverliftdoorsthathebowshishead,droppinghiseyestothefloor.Helookspained,asthoughhe’swrestlingwithsomething.
“Iknow,it’sbeenabit…I’vehadalot…there’ssomething…”
Thedoorspingopen,interruptinghim,andImarchout,leavinghimstumblingoverhiswords.
“Harper,please,”hewhispersurgently,rushingalongsideme.“Ineedtoexplain.”
“Noneedtoexplain,”Isnapback,holdingmyheaduphigh.“Ifyou’regoingtobehotandcold,I’mnotinterested.Anyway,Ihaveaveryimportantphonecalltomakenow,soI’llseeyoulater.”
“Didn’tyoujustgetoffaphonecalloutside?”
“Icanmakemorethanonephonecalladay,Ryan,”Ihuff,makingasharpturnintoanemptymeetingroomandclosingthedoorbehindme.
Lookingdejected,heheadsbacktoourdesks,whileIquicklyphonemydad.
“Harper,”hesaysgruffly,“letmeguess.Youhavetocancel.”
Iwince,shuttingmyeyestightly.“Sorry,Dad,Ihavetogotoanawardsceremonytonight.”
“Youknowweallhavelives,don’tyou,Harper?”hesnaps.“Weallhaveimportanteventsandsocialoccasionstoattend,butsomehowwe’reabletomaintainalevelofdecorum,andwhenwegiveourword,westicktoit.”
“Dad,thiswasanhonestmistakeandI’mgenuinelysorry,”Isayasearnestlyaspossible.
“Wewereexpectingitfromyou.Hardlyasurprise,”hegrumbles.
“Well,I’mgladI’msuchaconstantdisappointmentthatlettingyoudownisn’tsuchabigdeal,”Isayimpatiently.
“Idon’thavetimefordramatics,”herepliesdismissively.“Doyouwanttotrytorearrangeoristheresimplynopoint?”
Collectingmyself,Itakeadeepbreathinanattempttoremaincalmandbrightenmytoneagainsowecankeepthingscivil.“Howaboutnextweek?”
“I’llhavetocheckourcalendarsandofcourseliaisewithyoursister.”
“Great,letmeknow.Icanbooksomewhere.”
“Ithinkit’sbestforyoutoleavethearrangingtous,”hecounters,hisvoicelacedwithdisgruntlement.
“Fine,”Isaybriskly,unwillingtotakeanymorestingsfromhimtoday.“Ihavetogo.”
Hangingup,Iburymyheadinmyhandsandscream,thesoundmuffledbymypalms.LookingupwhenIhearapoliteknockonthedoor,Iseeagroupofjournalistsstandingtherewatchingme,waitingtousethemeetingroom.
“Sorry!”Itrill,swingingopenthedoor.
Oneofthejournalistslooksatmesympathetically.“Havingoneofthosedays?”
“Ohyes,”Isay,appreciatingthesmileofsolidarityshegivesme.“Havingoneofthosedays.”
Whenyou’renotupforanything,awardsceremoniesreallydrag,butoncethatboringbitisalldonewith,theminglingafterwardisalotmorefun.Idecidetoletmyhairdownabitandtakeadvantageofthefreechampagneandexcellentcompany,makingabeelineforanyonewhomightmakeagoodprofilepiece.It’sbeenniceseeingfriendsintheindustry—I’vebeenabletocatchupwiththepublicistofIsabellaBlossom’sfilm,RachaelWalker,whotoldmethatIsabella’sbabyisdivineandshecan’twaituntilI’mabletocomeovertogetthatexclusive,andIalsobumpintoMae,whoarrangedtheinterviewwithMaxSj?berg.
“Sothathotcolleagueofyourswasn’tinterestedinme,then?”shesaysafterwe’vedoneourgreetingoftwokissesonthecheek.“IdidgivehimmynumberbutIhaven’theardanything.”
“Ididn’trealizeyou’dgivenhimyournumber,”Isay,surprisedhedidn’tmentionit.
“Iwastryingtobesexyandconfident,”sheadmitswithagiggle.“Youknow,bymakingthefirstmove.Lotofgooditdidme.”
“Maybehe’splayingitcool,”Isay,takingaswigofchampagne.“He’sgoodatthat.”
“Whatever,Ilikementobeforward.Ifthey’reintome,Iwantthemtoletmeknow.OtherwiseI’mnotinterested.Idon’thavetimeforgames.”
“Iwillcheerstothat!”Iexclaimheartily,clinkingmyglassagainsthers.
Later,IspotShamariatatablenearbyandheadovertoslideintotheemptyseattoherleft,disturbingherconversationwithahandsomemaninhisfifties.
“Thankgodyoucameover,”shesaysinalowvoiceafterthemanexcuseshimselfandleaves.“Ican’tforthelifeofmerememberwhothatpersonis.Hewaschattinglikewewereoldfriends!”
“Helooksfamiliar.Isheadirector?”
“Beatsme.”Sheshrugs.“So,how’syournightbeen?Howwasyourtable?”
“Iwasrightattheback,sittingonthesametableasJonathanClifffromExpression,”Iinformher,rollingmyeyes.“Theyalwaysinsistonlumpingusjournaliststogether.”
“Theorganizersaretryingtokeepyouatarm’slengthfromthetalent.”Shamarigrins.“Theydon’tneedanymoretearsthantheawardsalreadycause.Awardsaresoridiculous—doesanyoneactuallycare?Ifindtheseceremoniessodreary.”
“You’reonlysayingthatbecausethatsexyclientofyours,JulianNewt,didn’twininhisnewcomercategory.”
“I’mimpressedyourememberedhisnamethistime,”shechuckles.“Andmypushinghasgothimonyourradar,soI’mdoingmyjob.Keephiminmindforaninterview.”
“YouknowwhoI’vegotinmindforaninterview,”Iprompthopefully.
“DylanKnoxdidnotreturnmyphonecalltoday,”shesays.“ButI’lltryhimagaintomorrow,soit’snotalostcauseyet.Hecanbetrickytoreach,andnowthatyou’veputtheideainmyheadofhimactingagain,Ihavemyowninterestingettingthroughtohim.LeaveitwithmeandletmeseewhatIcando.”
“Thankyou,Iappreciateit,”Isay,leaningbackandlettingoutalongsigh.
Shewatchesmecarefully.“Longday?”
“It’shaditsupsanddowns.”
“Icanimagine.I’mreallysorrytohearaboutwhat’sgoingonwithNarrative.It’ssosadthatthisishappeningwithsomuchprintmedianow,andithappenssoquickly,too.Doyouknowyetifyou’resafe?”
“Safe?”
“Fromtheredundancies.Iheardthere’sgoingtobeatleasttwoorthreeatthemagazine.Youhaven’theardanythingaboutyourjobyet?”
Iblinkather.“How…howdoyouknowaboutredundanciesatNarrative?”
Shelooksconfused.“Youknowhowquicklynewslikethatspreadsinthisindustry,Harper.Nothingissecretforthatlong.Iheardit’sgoingtobethisweek.Anyway,we’reallkeepingourfingerscrossedattheagencythatCosmowon’tbeanidiotandwillkeepyourjobsafeandsound.Although,sayingthat,ifyoudofindyourselfatalooseend,letmeknowifyou’dconsidermakingtheswitchtotheagencyside.Icoulddowithsomeonewithyourdriveonmyteam.”
Hereyesflickerovermyshoulderandsheplastersafakesmileacrossherface,wigglingherfingersatsomeonebehindme.
“Shit,Ihavetogo,”shesaysthroughgrittedteeth.“ThatproduceroverthereisabouttostartaprojectthatisperfectforJulianNewt.ShameIcan’tstandher.I’llcallyoutomorrow,Harper.”
“Yeah,”Imumbleasshegetsup,leavingmestrandedatthetableonmyown.
Isitinadaze,tooshockedtomove.MystomachisinknotsandI’mnotsureifImightbesick.Mysurroundingsablurofnoise,Iforcemyselfupontomyfeetandthenmanagetododgethroughthecrowds,burstingthroughtheexitofthebuildingandgaspingforair.ThepaparazzisurroundingtheexitlifttheircamerasexcitedlyandthenlowerthemagainoncetheyrealizeI’mnooneimportant.Istumbleandhavetobalancemyselfontheshoulderofoneofthephotographers.
“Youallright?”hesaysasIclutchatmychest,whichfeelsmoreandmoreconstricted.
“F-fine,”Iwhisper,thankinghimandthenlaunchingmyselfintooneofthewaitingblackcabs,desperatetogethometobedwhereIcanliedownandcry.
Because,eventhoughit’stooearlytosayforsure,IthinkIalreadyknowwhat’scoming.
Bytheendoftheweek,I’llbeoutofajob.CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
OnThursdaymorning,we’retoldthatourjobsareatrisk.Cosmoholdsone-to-onemeetingswithusalldaytotalkthroughourrights,whyredundanciesarenecessary,confirmthatanyoneintheteamcouldbeselected,andaskwhetherwewanttotakevoluntaryredundancy.Ialmostfeelsorryforhim—it’samiserablediscussionandhavingitwithsomanypeople,oneaftertheother,can’tbefun.ButthenIrememberit’sCosmoandanysympathyfizzlesaway.He’sprobablysecretlydelightedthathecanmakeafewcuts.
Themoodoftheofficehasneverbeenlower.It’spracticallysilent.AndIcan’ttellifit’sagoodorabadthingthatRyanisn’tthere.He’sgonetoWalestointerviewacoupleintheirthirtieswhousedtoberisk-managementspecialistsataprivatebankinLondonbutsackeditallinandleftthecitytobecomefarmers,forafeaturehe’swritingonthetrendofyoungpeopleswappingurbanlivesforruralones.Hewon’tbebackuntiltomorrow.
Healsohasn’tmessagedme,andwhenIaskCosmoifRyanknowswhat’sgoingon,hesayshedoeswithadismissivewaveofhishand.Ican’thelpbutnoticethatCosmoisfidgetingendlesslywhilewearetalkingandcan’tlookmeintheeye.Heseemsflusteredandirritatedatmyquestions,asthoughI’maccusinghimofsomething.HisbehavioronlyconfirmswhatI’vealreadyguessed
“Youdon’tknowwho’sgoing,”Mimisaysdismallywhenwe’veescapedthesuffocatinglygrimatmosphereoftheofficethatafternoonforastroll.“Itcouldbeanyone.”
“Cosmohasneverunderstoodmyjob.”
“Travelishardlyanecessity.”
“Mimi,youdon’tneedtoworry.Cosmojustexpandedtheluxurytravelsectionbecauseitbringsinsomuchpaidadvertising.Nottomentionhowpopularyourpagesarebecauseyou’resobrilliant.”
“Samegoesforyou!”
Igiveheralook.“YouknowhowCosmofeelsaboutmyrole.Andsinceourmeeting,I’vebeenanalyzingrecentevents,andsomethingisbecomingalittleclearer.”
Shestopstofaceme.“What?”
“IthoughtitwasstrangehowCosmokepttryingtogivemyfeaturestoRyan—Igetthattherecanbecrossoverwithourrolesandsometimesthesametopicsareofinteresttousboth,butCosmokepttryingtopalmoffwhatshouldbeobviouscelebrityfeaturestohim,too.Ithinkhe’sbeentestingthewaterstoseeifRyancanessentiallydobothourjobs.”
Mimifrownsassheconsidersmytheory.
“Thinkaboutit.Howmanymagazineshaveacelebrityeditornowadays?Maybesomeofthebigwomen’sglossymagazinesorgossipblogs,butnotpublicationslikeNarrative.Roleslikeminecaneasilybecoveredbysomeoneelse.”
“Noonecandoyourjoblikeyoucan,”shesaysfiercely,andIfeelanoverwhelmingsurgeofloveforhersupport
“Thanks,Mimi,butit’samiraclethatI’veheldontothisjobforaslongasIhave,really.Ishouldbegratefulforthat,but—”Ihesitate,staringattheground,myvoicebreakingslightlyasItrytoholdittogether“—Iloveitsomuch.Ican’timaginedoinganythingelse.It’sallIhave.”
Mimihugsmeandremindsmethatwestilldon’tknowanythingyet.Wejusthavetowaitandsee.
Thatnight,lyinginbed,IcometotheconclusionthatIcan’tbeartowaitandseemuchlonger.WhichiswhyonFridayafternoonIrequestameetingwithCosmoandaskhimoutrightifmyjobisbeingmaderedundant.
“Harper,”hebegins,startledbymyabruptlineofquestioning,“wewillbeannouncingtheredundanciesnextweek.Everythingisstillbeingdiscussedandprepared,and—”
“Butyoualreadyknow,”Iinterrupt,standingbehindthechairoppositehisdesk,myfingernailsdiggingintothebackcushion.“Iknowthatyouknow.You’rejustfinalizingdetailsatthispoint.IfI’mbeingmaderedundant,I’dliketobenotifiednow.”
Studyingmydeterminedexpression,hepresseshislipstogetherandtheninhalesdeeply.
“Allright,”hesaysgruffly.“I’msorry,Harper,butI’mafraidyouareoneofthecasualtiesthisround.Althoughwe…valueyouandyourhardworkforthismagazine,weareunabletojustifykeepingthepositionofcelebrityeditor.”
Iknewitwascoming,butitstillfeelslikebeingpunchedinthestomach,standinginaglassboxandlearningthateverythingI’veworkedforisslippingfrommygrasp.
Cosmoclearshisthroat,makingitobviousthathe’dratherthisconversationfinishessoonerthanlaterbycheckinghiswatch.
“Anyway,wecanhavetheformalmeetingnextweektodiscussthetermsofredundancyandyournoticeperiod,andyou’rewelcometobringsomeonewithyoufromHR,ifyou’dlike.ImustpointoutthatI’mdoingyouafavorhere,givingyoutheheads-up,simplybecauseyouasked,butI’dappreciateitifyoudidn’ttellanyoneelseontheteamquiteyet.Therearetwootherswhowillalsobemaderedundant,andI’llbetellingthemnextweek.Ifpeoplefindoutthatyouknow,they’llallbebangingonthedoortofindoutwhoelseisintrouble,andI’drathernothavethatheadachetoday.”
Heglancesathiscomputerandmoveshismousetoclickonsomething.
“Ineedtodealwiththisemail.Willthatbeall?”
Idon’tknowhowtorespond.I’msuddenlytooexhaustedtospeak,soInodsilentlyandwalkoutofhisoffice.NoonelooksupasIemerge.They’realltoofocusedontheirworkorontheirphones.IhearGabbysnifffromhercomputerandseethathereyesareredandsquintyfromcryingagaintoday.Sheisafairlyrecenthireastheeditorialassistantandisthereforeconvincedthatshe’sgoingtobethefirsttogo.IwishIcouldprotectherfromit,especiallywhenshe’sonlyjustbrokenintojournalism.Ifeelsosorryforher,andterribleformyself.I’mcursedwithknowingI’mnolongerpartofthisteamwithoutbeingabletosharethenewswithanyone.
Sittingdown,Ipullmyselfintowardmydeskandstarenumblyatmyscreen.Theemailspoppingupinmyinboxseemirrelevantnow.Itrytopicturemylifewithoutthisjob.Ican’t.Itseemsimpossible.I’llhavetostartapplyingelsewhere.Thepanicbeginstobubblethroughme.
WhatamIgoingtodo?
“Harper,areyouokay?”Mimiasks,peeringroundherscreen.“Youdon’tlooksogood.”
“Yeah,fine,butI’vejustrealizedI’msupposedtobe…atabooklaunch,”Isqueak,bilerisinginmythroat.Ireachdownformybag.“Ihavetogo.”
“Wewereallgoingtogoforadrinkafterwork,”shesays,gesturingtotherestoftheteam.“Drownoursorrowstogether,sotospeak.”
“Ireallyneedtobeatthislaunch.It’sabigdeal.Lotsof…scandal.Sorrytomissout.”
“We’llmissyou.Areyousureyou’reallright?”shechecks,concerned.
“Justabitofaheadache.I’lltakesomeibuprofenontheway,”Iassureher,loggingoffandpushingmyselfupoffmychair.“Seeyou.”
Idon’tknowifCosmonoticesmeleavingasIhurrypasthisoffice,butifhedoes,hedoesn’ttrytostopme.Whyshouldhecarenowanyway?Standingatthebackoftheelevator,Iblinkbacktearsasreportersfromthemainpapercraminwithme,andIwaitimpatientlyastheyfileoutontothegroundfloor,thenrushpastthemtogettotheexit.
It’sraining.Heavily.Itwasaclearmorningandwarm,too,soIhaven’tbroughtanumbrellaoranykindofjacketwithmetoworktoday.
Istepoutintotherainandbeginthewalktothetube,waterdropsfallingfreelydownmyface,drippingofftheendofmynose,thewispsofmyhairthathavefallenloosefrommyponytailplasteringagainstmyforehead,myblueshirtbeginningtosticktomyskinasitdampens.Idon’tcare.
“Harper!”
I’msofocusedonputtingonefootinfrontoftheother,blinkingthroughtheonslaughtofrain,thatIdon’tnoticeRyanuntilhe’srightinfrontofme,stoppingmeinmytracks.Hepeersdownatme,holdingalargeumbrellathatheimmediatelypositionsovermyhead
“Whatareyoudoing?”heasks,clearlybaffledbymywalkintherainwhenI’msupposedtobeworking.
“You’reinWales,”Isaystupidly,eventhoughhe’sstandinginfrontofmerighthereonthepavementinVauxhall.
“Onlyuntilthismorning.I’vejustgotthetrainback.You’resoaked!Whydon’tyouhaveanumbrella?”
“Itwasn’trainingearlier.”
“Whereareyougoing?Doyouhaveanevent?”
“Yes,”Ilie,usingthebackofmyhandtowipethewateroffmyface.“Ihavetogo.”
“Wait,Harper,takethis,”hesays,holdingoutthehandleoftheumbrellaasIgotosteparoundhim.
“No,thanks.I’mfine,”Isay,pushingitaway.
“What’swrong?”Hestepsbacktostandinfrontofmeagain.“Somethingiswrong.Talktome.”
“Youheardabouttheredundancies,didn’tyou?”
Hisfacefalls.“Yes.It’ssoshit.Howiseveryone?”
“Notgood.DidCosmocallyouyesterday?”
Herunsahandthroughhishair,andIunderstandstraightawaywhyhe’snotansweringaverysimplequestion.
“Howlonghaveyouknown?”Iask,lookingathimindisbelief.
“Afewdays,”headmitsquietly.
“Afewdays?”Irepeat,bewildered.“Sincewhen?!”
“Monday.”
“You’veknownallweek.”
Ryanlookspained.“Iwantedtotellyou.Iwasdesperatetotellyou,butIhadtobeprofessional.Iwasunderstrictinstructionsthatitwasconfidentialinformation.Eventhoughitkilledme,Ihadtokeepitfromyou.I’msosorry.”
“That’swhyyou’vebeenoffwithme,”Isayslowly,puttingtwoandtwotogether.“Youcouldhavesaidsomething.”
“Iwasn’tallowedtosayanythingtoanyone,”heprotests.
“Yes,Ryan,butit’sme.Youcouldhavetrustedmetokeepittomyself!Youcouldhavepreparedmeforthis!Instead,youwerecoldanddistant,andIassumeditwasallmyfault.IhadnoideawhatI’ddonewrong.AndthenwhenIfoundoutthishugenewswiththerestoftheteam,youweren’tthereandyoudidn’tevenmessage!”
“Ididn’twanttolietoyou,”heinsists.“IknewIwantedtoseeyoubeforetalkingaboutit.”
“Well,youdidlietome.AndnowIfeellikeanevenbiggeridiotthanIdidbefore.”
“Ididn’twanttoknowthatinformation,Harper!Ididn’twantCosmotohavethatmeetingwithme.I’vefeltlikethebiggestfraudthelastfewdays,havingtofaceeveryoneintheofficeandactnormallywiththishugecloudovermyhead.Iwishhehadn’ttoldmeadamnthing,”heseethes,hiseyesflaringwithanger.
Mybloodturnstoiceassomethingelsedawnsonme.
“Ryan,”Ibegin,myvoiceweakandshaky,“didyouknowwhowasbeingmaderedundant?”
Withapainedexpression,heshutshiseyes.
“Ohmygod,”Isay,watchinghim.“Youdidn’tjustknowitwascoming,youknewthatitwascomingforme.Cosmotoldyou.”
“Hedidn’ttellmestraightout,”hecroaks.“Heheavilyimpliedthatyouwerethemostatrisk.ButHarper,Ididn’t—”
Idon’twanttohearanymore.Idon’twanttospeaktohim.Idon’twanttolookathim.Pushingpast,Imarchdowntheroadasfastasmylegscancarrymewithoutbreakingintoafull-onrun.Hekeepscallingoutmyname,hurryingtocatchupwithme,stilltryingtoholdtheumbrellaovermyhead.
“Leavemealone,”Icry.
“Please,Harper,”hesays,tryingtograbmyarm,butIshakehimoff.
“Getoffme!”
“Canyoujustlistentomeinsteadofstormingoff?”
“WhyshouldIlistentoyou,Ryan?”Iyell,turningtofacehimandthrowingupmyarmsinexasperation.Idon’tcarethatI’mshoutinginpublic.Idon’tcarewhosees.I’msotired.“Youliedtome!Again!It’shistoryrepeatingitself!”
“Don’tsaythat,Harper.It’snotlikethat,”heinsistsfirmly.
“It’sevenraining.Justlikelasttime!We’reinsomekindoftimeloop!I’vegotfuckingdéjàvu!Outsidetheofficewherewework,mylifefallingapart,yoursperfectlyintact.Daysofyoulyingtomyface.”
“That’snotwhat—”
“Iamsuchanidiot.Afuckingfool.Thekindofpersonyoureadaboutinbooksandwatchinmovieswhokeepsfallingforthesamebullshit.You’dthinkI’dlearn!”
“Harper—”
“Whenyougotthisjob,ItoldmyselfthatIcouldn’tfallforyouagain,thatIcouldn’tletmyselfbetakeninbyyouorletmyselfbetemptedbythisweird…thisweird—”Igestureatmyselfandthenathim“—pullbetweenus.AndyethereIamelevenyearslaterinexactlythesameposition!Youcouldn’tmakeitup!”
“Please,just—”
“Justwhat,Ryan?”Idemandloudlyoverthenoiseoftherain.“Whatwouldyoulikemetodo?Listentoyoursideofthestory?Trustyou?Isthatwhatyouwant?”
“YouhavetounderstandwhyIcouldn’ttellyou,Harper!Iwantedtotalktoyou.IhatedthatIcouldn’tsayanything.Ihatedmyselfforknowing.That’swhyIhadtodistancemyselffromyou,becauseIcouldn’tbeartheideaofnotbeingabletotellyou.Iwasn’tgoingtomakethesamemistakeaslasttimeandactnormalaroundyouwiththishuge,horriblesecretIdidn’tevenwanttoknow!IwouldhavedoneanythingforusnottobecolleaguessoIcould—”
Ithrowmyheadbackandlaugh,therainpouringfreelydownmyface,mymascaranodoubtsmudgingovermycheeks.
“Well,whaddyaknow,Ryan?Yougotyourwish!Weareofficiallynolongercolleagues.Idon’thaveajobanymore,sothereyougo.Youcanwipeyourhandsofme.”
Herecoils,stung.Good.
“Howcanyousaythat?”heasksme,hischeeksflushingred.“YouknowhowIfeelaboutyou.”
“WhatIknowisthatyouliedtomeandbetrayedmeagain,”Isay,myvoiceshakingasIblinkbackhottearsthatthreatentospillover.“AndthenyoumademethinkthatIhaddonesomethingwrong,byessentiallyignoringmetheselastfewdays.Youhavenoideahowthisfeels.IfIthoughtIwashumiliatedlasttime,it’snothingtohowIfeelrightnow.Thisjobwaseverythingtome.Andnowit’sgone.YouandCosmocanhaveasplendidtimeinyourlittleboys’club,printingwhateverthefuckyouwanttoprint.I’mnolongerthethorninyoursides.”
“That’snotwhatit’slike,”hesays,thehandnotholdingtheumbrellaclenchingintoafist.“Ihatehowhetreatsyou.Ihaveonlyeveradmiredwhatyoudo,Harper.Forfuck’ssake,Iknowthisisashock,butthisjobisnoteverythingtoyou.”
Inarrowmyeyesathim.“Excuseme?”
“WhatImeanisthatyouarebetterthanthisjob,Harper,”hepresses.“YouareoneofthebestjournalistsI’veevermet!Everyoneintheindustryknowsit.Iknewitbefore,butnowthatI’vehadtheopportunitytoseeyouatwork,I’mevenmoreconvincedthatwhatyouhaveisanextremelyraretalent.Youdrawthebestoutofeveryone.Andyouknowwhat?Cosmohasbeenholdingyouback.Thismagazinehasbeenholdingyouback.Igetthatbeingmaderedundantisscary,butyoucandowhateveryouwantnow,Harper,andIthinkthatyoucandoalot.”Hesighs.“Iappreciatethatyouprobablydon’twanttohearthisfrommerightnow,butIthinkthatthiscouldbeagoodthing.”
Ishakemyheadathim.“Youareunbelievable.Thisisn’tagoodopportunity,Ryan.Thisisit.Iwon’tcomebackfromthis.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“Myparentswererightallalong.Ishouldn’tkeeptryingatacareerthat’sgoingnowhere,”Iadmit,trembling.
“Youdon’tmeanthat,”hestates.“You’reangryandupset.You’reinshock.Youneedtogohomeandrest.Letmecomewithyou.Letmetakeyouhome.”
“Idomeanit,Ryan,”Isay,tearsstreamingdownmycheeksastheangercrumblesintohurt.“I’matthetopofmygameandI’mstillsomehowfailing.YousaythateveryoneknowshowgoodIam,butlookatme.I’mredundant.I’mstandingintherainwithyou,elevenyearsaftermyfirstbigfailure,andhereIam,afailureonceagain.Igiveup.”
“So,you’vehadonesetbackandnowyou’regivingup?”hehuffsimpatiently.
“Asetback?I’velostmyjob!It’sallIhave!”
“Itisnotallyouhave,Harper,”hepracticallyyells,histonetakingmebysurprise.“Thisjobisnotyourbe-allandend-all.It’sajob.It’snotwhoyouare.”
“Thatjustgoestoshowyoudon’tknowmeatall.”
Iletoutaninvoluntarysob,andheinstinctivelytakesasteptowardme,hisarmreachinguptomyface,butIbathimaway,recoilingfromhim.
“Leavemealone,Ryan.I’mgoinghome.”
“Letmecomewithyou,”hesayssoftly,hissternexpressioncrumpling.“Idon’twantyoutobeonyourown.Notwhenyou’relikethis.”
“Iwanttobealone,”Iinsist.
“Harper,”hepleads,“letme—”
“Idon’twanttohaveanythingtodowithyou,Ryan,”Isnap.“Thisisit.We’redone.”
Hisjawclenches.“Don’tsaythat.Pleasedon’tsaythat.”
“Ishouldhavelearnedmylessonlasttime.Youhaven’tchanged.Iwasna?vetothinkthatIcouldtrustyouagain.”
“Youcantrustme!”hesays,hisvoicestrangled,hiseyesglistening.“Harper,Ilov—”
“Don’t,”Iinstructcoldly,glaringathim.“Whateverthiswasbetweenus,it’sover.Forgood.Ican’tbewithsomeoneIdon’ttrust.AndIwillnevertrustyouagain,RyanJansson.”
Iturnonmyheelandwalkaway.
Hedoesn’tfollow.CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Mostoftheweekendisspentwallowinginthedisasterthatismylife.
Fridaynightwasanembarrassinghazeoftears,wine,andminibreakdowns—thesmallestthingstoppledmeintospiralsofdespairthatconcludedwithbanshee-stylewailingsobs.Forexample,whenIcouldn’tfindacleanwineglass,IdrankwinefromamugthatsaidWORLD’SBESTWRITERonit—agiftIgotintheofficeSecretSantaafewyearsago.Thisreleasedatorrentofcrying.Ihadnorighttodrinkfromthatcup.Noright.
IgotintomypajamasassoonasIwalkedthroughthedoortogetoutofmyrain-soakedclothes—Imusthavelookedasightonthetube,butIdidn’tcare—andIclimbedintobedwitharagingheadache,withoutbotheringtotakeoffmymakeup.OnSaturdaymorning,Icatchmyreflectioninthebathroommirrorandgaspatthestateofmyface:blotchy,puffy,withshadowsofmascarasmudgeddownmycheeks.Ifeelsodrainedfromthepreviousday’seventsthatItakemymakeupremoverbacktobedwithme,wipingatmyeyesfromthesafetyofmyduvet.
WhenMimiphones,Itrymybesttosoundrelativelynormal,butsheknowsmetoowell.
“Hello?”Ianswer.
“Ohmygod,Harper,”shegasps.“What’swrong?”
“Nothing!”Iinsist,myeyesfillingwithtearsathervoiceandmyeyeswellingwithyetmoretears.“I’mfine.”
“DidsomethinghappenwithRyan?Iknewsomethingwasoffwithyouyesterdaybeforeyouleft,andthenhecameintotheofficeandI’veneverseenhimsotense.Helookedlikehewasgoingtoeitherburstintotearsorhitsomeoneintheface.Areyouwithhimnow?”
“No,”Isqueak.
“Soyou’reonyourown?”
“Yes.”
“I’mcomingover,”shesaysfirmly,givingmenoopportunitytoprotest.
Bythetimeshearrives,I’veforcedmyselftohaveashowerandgetintofreshpajamas.Mimiis,ofcourse,dressedasthoughshe’sgoingforafternoonteaatTheRitz—inabrightorangesundress.ShestartswhenIopenthedoor.IrememberI’mstillwearingafacemaskthatissupposedtohydrateandplumpyourskin.WhileIgoremoveit,sheheadstothekitchentoputthekettleon.Iplodinafewminuteslatertofindherwashingupacoupleofmugsinthesink.
“I’veputyourdishwasheron,”sheinformsme.
“Imeanttodothatlastnight,butIforgot,”Isigh,leaningbackonthekitchencounterandfoldingmyarmsacrossmychest.
“Teaorcoffee?”
“I’mthehost.Ishouldbeaskingyouthatquestion.”
“Harper,lookatyou,”shesayswithasadsmile.“You’rewearingyourpajamasinsideoutandyouhaveoneMissPiggyslipperon.”
“Igaveuplookingfortheotherone,”Iadmit.“Ithinkitmightbeunderthebed.”
“I’mnotsureyou’reintherightstateofmindrightnowtohandleakettle.So,teaorcoffee?”
“Coffee,please.Icouldusethecaffeine.”
“Youwanttotellmewhat’sgoingon?Knowingyou,I’mguessingthatwhateverthisis—”shegesturestomygeneralappearance“—it’snotbecauseofaboy.”
“Youwouldguesscorrectly.”
Shesquintshereyesatme,tryingtoworkitout.“Yourparents?Iknowyouwereduetohavedinnerwiththemthisweek,andthatnevergoeswell.Butusuallyyoulaughitoff.”
“Irearrangedthatdinnerfornextweek.I’msurefireworkswillfly,butyou’reright,Istoppedcryingoverthemalongtimeago.”
“Isitworryovertheredundancies?BecauseIknowit’shorriblehavingthathangingoverourheadsatthemoment,butyoucan’tletyourselfgetintoastatebeforewehaveanyoftheanswers.”
Ilookdownatthefloor.“Mimi,Cosmoalreadytoldme.”
Shelooksatmeindisbelief.“W-what?”
“IaskedhimpointblankonFriday.Ishouldn’thave,butIknewthatwhenitcametocuttingroles,hewouldputmineattheforefront.AndIwasright.”
“Ohmygod.Harper,”shesayssoftly,comingoverandwrappingherarmsaroundme.“I’msosorry.Ican’tbelieveit!”
“Ican,”Ireply,myvoicemuffledinhershoulder.“Cosmohasbeenlookingforanexcusetogetridofmesincehetookoverthemagazine.Ishouldhaveknownitwascoming.”
Shepullsback.“Doyouknowwhoelse—”
“No,I’msorry,”Isay,bitingmylip.“Idon’thaveaclueaboutanyoneelse.AndI’msorrytotellyouthisnow;it’snotfairwhenwedon’tknowwhoelsemightgo.It’sreallyselfishofme,actually.”
Sheshakesherhead.“No,it’snot.I’mgladyoutoldmenow.Andanyway,ifitturnsoutthatI’mlosingmyjobnextweek,too,thenatleastwe’llbegoingtogether.”
“Right,”Isaywithaweaksmile.
“Harper,youknowthisisn’tareflectiononyou,right?”shechecks,movingawaytofinishmakingthecoffees.“It’snothingtodowithyourwork.It’sbecauseCosmodoesn’tgetit!Hedoesn’tgethisaudience,hedoesn’tgetthemagazine—heneverbotheredtotrytounderstandwhyyourfeaturesaresopopularandhowhardyouworktogetthem.Iknowyoudon’twanttohearthisrightnow,buthonestly?Ithinkyou’retoogoodforNarrativemagazineunderhisleadership.”
“Thanks,Mimi.Butitdoesn’tmatter.Obviouslythepublishersagreedwithhim.”
“Whichbafflesme!”sheexclaims,grabbingacartonofmilkfromtheotherwiseemptyfridge.“Thepowersthatbecareaboutnumbers,right?Subscribers,newsstandsales,digitalclicks—themajorityofthosecomefromthekindofpopularfeaturesyouheadup!”
“Yes,butthosefeaturescanalsobedonebyRyanJansson.”
ShecarriesthetwomugsofcoffeeovertothesofaandIfollowher,andwesinkintothecushionsnexttoeachother.Itakemymuggratefully,thecomfortingwarmthheatingmyfingersasIclaspitinmyhands.
“Ryandoesn’thaveyourcontacts,andhedoesn’thaveyourwaywithpeople,”Mimipointsout.“WhoelsecouldhavegottenAudreyAbbotonourfrontpagebutyou?”
“Ryanisverygoodatwhathedoes,”Ireason.“He’llbeabletohandleit.Cosmoknowsthat.”
Mimishootsmeasympatheticlook.“Ryanisgoingtobedevastated.Hewon’thaveseenthiscoming.”
Ismileattheirony.“Oh,hesawitcomingbeforeanybodyelse.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”sheasks,puzzled
“Cosmotoldhimabouttheredundanciesatthebeginningoftheweek.IthinkhelikestoseeRyanashisbuddy.Anyway,wehadabigfightaboutityesterday.”
“YouandRyan?”
Inod,takingasipofmycoffee.“Whenhegotbacktotheoffice.Iconfrontedhimaboutitandheadmittedthathe’dknownfordays.”
“Abouttheredundanciesoraboutyourjobspecifically?”
“Both.ApparentlyCosmoimpliedIwasagoner.Ryandidn’tbothertotellmethat,though.Instead,hejustdistancedhimselffrommesohewouldn’thavetolietomyface…makingmefeellikeIwastheonewhohaddonesomethingwrong.Pathetic,”Imumble.
“Idon’tknow,Harper,”shebeginscautiously,“itsoundslikeCosmoputhiminahorribleposition.Idoubthewasallowedtotellyouanything.”
“Ofcoursenot,buthestillcouldhave,”Iargue.“Hecouldhavetrustedme.”
“It’snotjustthat,though.Imean,ifIwereinhisshoes,I’mnotsureIwouldhavebeenabletotellyou.Breakingyourheartlikethat,wheneveryoneknowshowmuchyoulovewhatyoudo?”Sheshudders.“Itwouldbesohorrible.It’snotreallyhisplaceanyway—evenifyouareshaggingbehindthescenes.”
“Igetthathewasbeingprofessionallyresponsible,”Ihuff,irritatedthatshe’sspeakingsense.“Butawarningwouldhavebeennice.”
“Wouldithavemadeanydifference?”Shetiltsherheadatme.“Honestly,Harper,ifyouwantmyopiniononthis,youshouldn’tbefocusingonwhoknewwhatwhen.Youshouldbetakingsometime,lookingafteryourself,andwhenyou’reready,havingathinkaboutwhatyou’regoingtodonext.Wecanlookaroundforotherjobsoryoucouldconsidergoingfreelance.Ibetthereareloadsofeditorsouttherewhowouldbedesperateforyoutowriteforthem!There’snoharminreachingouttoyourcontacts.”
“AndtellingthemthatI’velostmyjobatNarrative?They’llimmediatelydoubtmyabilities.Imean,Idoubtmyabilities,sowhywouldn’tthey?”
“No,theywon’t,Harper.Everyoneknowswhatit’slikeinthisindustry.Someofthebestjournalistsinthecountryhavehadtogofreelance.”Shegivesmeasternlook.“Youcan’tletCosmomakeyoubelieveyou’renotvaluable.Iwon’thaveit.”
Ismileather.“Ifyougetmaderedundant,I’dsayyoucouldhackitasalifecoach.”
“It’salwayseasiertogiveadvicewhenyou’reontheoutsideofasituation,”shesaysgently.“Iknowyoumustbefeelingreallylow.AndI’msosorry.”
“Thanks.Andthankyouforcominground,”Isay,nudgingherlegwithmytoe
“Alwayshereforyou.”Shepauses.“So,areyougoingtospeaktoRyanaboutthis?Idon’twantyouthrowingawaysomethingthathasthepotentialtobereallygoodoverCosmobeingabig-mouthedidiot.Ryanisthesensibletype,afterall.Heprobablydidn’tagreewithCosmotellinghimthatkindofsensitiveinformationandputtinghiminapositionwherehecouldn’tshareitwithhiscolleagues.Maybeyoucanlethimoffjustthisonce?”
“Thethingis,ithasn’tbeenjusttheonce.”
Shefrowns.“What?”
“He’sdonethisbefore.”Iexhaleslowly.“Mimi,didIevertellyouaboutthetimeIinternedatTheDailyBulletin?”
WalkingintotheofficeonMondayislikewadingthroughmolasses,andthensittingthere,actingnormalandpretendingtodoanyformofwork,ishorrific.Evenworse,Ihavetositnexttohim.AtleastRyanhasthedecencytoavoidmorecontactthanabsolutelynecessary.Heseemsresignedtothefactthatthereisnohopeforus,personallyorprofessionally,andbarelysaysawordtome.IhavetofakeafewmeetingssoIcanbeoutoftheofficeasmuchaspossible,butwhatisCosmogoingtodoifhefindsout?Fireme?
WhenI’msupposedtobeatthese“meetings,”Iinsteadsitincoffeeshopsandscrollthroughmediajobs,butitfeelspointless.MybrainistellingmethatIneedtoworkinorderto,youknow,eatandlive.Butmyheartisn’tinitandIcan’tbringmyselftoopenmyCVtoupdateit,letaloneuploadit.WhenIquietlyadmitasmuchtoMimi,sheactsasthoughit’snobigdealandsaysIhavetogivemyselfsometimetogetovertheshock.
OnTuesday,Cosmocallsmeintohisofficetodiscussmyredundancy.HealsoindividuallycallsinNaomi,thestyleassistant,andGabby,theeditorialassistant.MyheartbreaksforthemasIwatchthememergefromthemeetingwithdowncastexpressions.
Afterreceivinglotsofhugs,Isuggestthethreeofusgogetsomeair,sowedo.WegotoRoastedandGabbycriesintotheteathatIbuyher,andNaomipatsheronthebackandsaysitisgoingtobeokay,eventhoughshedoesn’tlookconvincedofthatherself.ButIassurethemthatitreallywillbeokay.Theyaresmartandbrilliant,andoncetheinitialshockhaswornoff,theywillseethisasanopportunitytodosomethingnewandexciting.
Ibasicallyreeloffeverythingyoushouldsaytosomeoneinourposition.
IcantelltheybelieveitasmuchasIdo.SoIconcludewith,“Tobehonest,it’sshit.AndI’msosorrythishashappened.”
Theyappreciatethatalotmorethanmylittlepeptalk.
Funnilyenough,theofficeismuchmorebearablenowthateveryoneknows.Wecandealwithitandmoveon,andeveryoneelseintheteamcanstopworryingaboutthemselvesandputalltheirenergyintomakingusfeelbetter.Ihaven’tpaidformylunchallweek,whichisabonus.AndCosmohasbeenlenientaboutournoticeperiods.Weonlyhavetodotwoweeks,includingthisone,andnextweekwe’reallowedtoworkfromhome.Ithoughtthatrevealedhehadanounceofcompassioninhim,butitturnsouthewantstorejigtheseatingarrangementnowthathe’slosingthreemembersoftheteam,andhethinksit’sbettertosortthatsoonerratherthanlater,soit’seasierifwe’reouttheoffice.
Whatasweetheart.
Still,I’mnotcomplaining.They’rethrowingusaleavingpartyatTheOldOakthisFriday.Mimiisheadingitupandshepromisesthatshe’sgoneallouttomakeitfunratherthandepressing.Shealsoinformsmethatthemainpaperhashadaroundofredundanciesthisweek,too,andtheyarealsothrowingapartyonthesamenight,soastrangeunspokencompetitionhasemergedbetweenMimiandsomeonenamedHarold,whoisheadingupthepaper’sparty.
“Hethinkshe’sallthatwithhismustard-yellowsocks,butthatmanwouldn’tknowagoodfingersandwichifithithimintheface,”shemutteredearlierasHaroldswannedpast.
Mimihasbeenalifelinethisweek.WhenI’veneededashouldertocryon,she’sbeenthere,andwhenI’veneededabitoftoughlove,she’sbeenhappytooblige.Sherepeatsthesamesentiments,andthey’restartingtogetthroughtome:I’vebeenatthismagazinesolong,steppingawayfromitseemsterrifying,butit’salsoanewadventure—lifeisalwaysgoingtohaveitstwistsandturns,andIcan’tpredictthemall.
IthinkthereasonI’vebeensoupsetisdowntothehumiliationofbeingforcedout,ratherthanleavingonmyownterms.ButmaybeI’llbegratefulforthepushsomeday.
ItrytofocusontheseoptimisticthoughtsonThursdayeveningasIarriveattherestauranttomeetmyparentsandsister.Positivevibesonly.
TheabsolutelastthingIwanttodorightnowisattendthisfamilydinner.
Myconfidenceisatanall-timelowandIknowI’llhavetotakeafewpunchestothegutovermycareer,butIcan’trearrangeagain.It’sbetterthatIgetitoveranddonewithandthenhopefullywewon’tbothereachotherforanotherfewmonths.AllIhavetodoisputonafakesmile,pretendeverythingisokay,andsteertheconversationawayfrommeasmuchaspossible.IfIfindmyselfunderthespotlight,I’lllielikeI’veneverliedbefore.
Tobehonest,thelastfewdayshavebeensoshit,Imightaswellthrowinadinnerwithmyparentstotopitalloff.
ThethreeofthemarealreadyatthetablewhenIarrive.Dadisinasuitandtie,andMumisinhersignatureblackfromheadtotoe,wearingapencildressandblackheels.Theyalwaysdressinofficewear,evenatweekends,andeverythingtheyownisexpensiveandtailored.Mum’sblond,shoulder-lengthhairisperfectlycoiffed,tuckedbehindherearswithherpearlearringsondisplay.Dadisalmostfullygraynow,andhelooksgoodforit—Imaynottakeaftertheminanyotherway,butmyparentsbothhaveagoodheadofhair,genesthatJulietandIalsoinherited.
ThethickhairisasfarasJulietandIgowhenitcomestosimilarities,andit’snoteventhesamecolor—she’sfollowedMum’sfootstepsandisnowahoneyblond,whichIdon’tthinksuitsherasmuchashernaturalbrown.Shehasanarrow,angularfaceandsharpfeatureswithstrikinggreeneyesandgreateyebrows,whileI’malittlesofterroundtheedgesandunfortunatelyavictimoftheninetiestrendforpluckingmyeyebrowstoshit.WhileI’mstucktherefillingmyeyebrowsineverymorning,IimagineJulietnevertoucheshers.
Weallfitourstereotypesperfectly.Them,thesophisticated,brilliant,glaciallawyers.Me,thechaotic,fancifulwriter.It’snevereasybeingtheoddoneout.
“You’relate,”Dadcomments,pickingupthemenuafteranawkwardhello,becausewe’reneverquitesurehowtogreeteachother.Beingfamily,wecivillyattemptakissonthecheek,butit’sstandoffishfrombothsides.Weshouldprobablyacceptthathandshakeswouldbemoreappropriate.
“Igotstuckat—”
“Atwork,”Mumfinishesforme,alreadytoppingupherwine.“Julietworkstwelve-hourdays,yetshemanagestogethereontime.”
Youknow,Idon’tthinkI’veeverhadaconversationwithmyparentsthatdoesn’tinvolveareminderthatJulietworkstwelve-hourdays?
Julietremainstight-lippedonthetopic,butatleastoffersmesomeversionofasmile—albeitasmall,indifferentone—asItakemyseat.
“So,thefoodlooksgood,”Iremarkbrightly,determinednottoengageandinsteadtakethehighroad.“Haveyoueatenherebefore?”
“Yes,lastweek,”Dadrepliesirritably.“Whenyoudidn’tcome.Wedidn’twanttowastethereservation.”
Itakethehit,answeringbrightly,“Thenyou’llknowwhattoorder.Howhandy!Juliet,couldyoupassthewine?Howisthejob,sis?”
“Fine,”sherepliesshortly,pouringmeadrinkandreturningthebottletoitscoolingbucket.
I’mimpressedbymyownself-restraintthatIdon’tdownmyentireglassstraightaway,butIdoallowmyselftwolargeglugsbeforeIsetitbackdownagain.
“Great!Youwanttoexpandonyouransweratall?”
Shescowlsatme.“Notreally.”
“Okay.Noproblem.Funchatwhileitlasted.”
Twomoregulpsofwinearetaken.Positivevibes,positivevibes…
“Juliethasmadepartneratherfirm,”Mumannouncesproudly,beamingather.“She’sdoneextremelywell,consideringshe’ssoyoung.”
Ablushofpinkappearsonmysister’scheeksasshestaresdownatherlap.It’snotlikehertolooksomodestaboutherachievements.SheusedtotellmeallaboutthemtheminuteIsteppedwithinhervicinity.
“Veryimpressive,Juliet.Welldone,”Isaydryly.
“It’swonderfulnewsandweshouldcelebrate,”Dadannounces.
“Dad,it’snotnews,you’veknownaboutitformonths,”Julietsays,seemingirritated.“AndwealreadycelebratedwhenIcametoseeyou.”
“Wenevertireofcelebratingourdaughter’ssuccess.Notthatwe’resurprised,ofcourse.Theyreallyshouldhavemadeyoupartnerlastyearwitheverythingyou’vedoneforthatfirm,”hesayspompously.“Buthereyouareandtherearegreatthingstocome!”
“I’lltoasttothat,”Mumsmiles,raisingherglass.
Wefollowsuit,butJulietshiftsuncomfortablyundertheglareoftheirattention,glancingatmeandthenlookingquicklyaway.Maybeshe’sstartingtoputherselfinmyshoesforonceandrealizesthatbeinginhershadowhasalwaysbeenabitchilly.
“It’ssuchashamethatHarrycouldn’tjoinusfordinner,”Mumsays,placingherglassdownbeforelookingpointedlyatme.“Youhaven’tmetJuliet’sboyfriend,haveyou,Harper?He’saninvestmentbanker,studiedatCambridge.He’sveryimpressive.”
“He’dhavetobetokeepupwithJuliet,”Dadchuckles.“Nottoobadonthesquashcourt,either.AlthoughItaughthimathingortwo!”
“Andhe’ssohandsome,too,”Mumadds.
“Hesoundslikeacatch,”Isay,studyingthemenuintently.“Congratulations.”
“Howarethingswithyou,Harper?”Julietasks,takingmebysurprise.“How’sthejob?Isthereanyoneonthescene?”
“I’msingleandthejobisfine,”Isaybriskly.“Hey,didanyonegetthehakelasttime?BecauseI’mtempted.AndDad,how’sthesquashgoing?DoyoustillplayalotorjustwhenJuliet’simpressiveboyfriendisintown?”
Mybitternessisoverlookedandit’sasuccessfulsteeroftheconversation,promptingDadtotellusastoryabouthislatestwinthathe’sclearlytoldseveraltimesbecauseit’swell-rehearsedandhestopsatallthemomentsthatseemtorequirealaugh.
Mydeterminationtoignoreanygibesandbatawayintrusivequestionsworksrightthroughthestartersuntilourplatesareclearedfromthetable.BythenMum’shadenoughwinetoignoreanywillpowertomaskherdisappointmentinme,andIcansensetroublebrewingatherfirstquestion.
“Ireadaninterestingarticletheotherdayabouthowtheevolutionofsocialmediahasimpactedourconnectionwithpeopleinthepubliceye,”shebegins.“ThankstoInstagramandthelike,celebritiescanallowpeoplefullaccesstotheirlives,sonow,mediaoutletsreportingonthemare…redundant.Iwantedyouropiniononthat,Harper?”
Ifitwassomeoneelseasking,itmighthaveledtoaveryinterestingdiscussion.Butmymumlikestogoad.Sheknowshowtogetundermyskin.
“Ithinkthatisprobablytrueinsomeways,”Ianswercoolly.“Buttheirsocialmediapostsgivepeopleaglimpseofwhattheywantyoutosee.Myjobisdifferent.”
“How?”
“Theyopenuptomeaboutmanyaspectsoftheirlives.It’snotfakeorposed—it’sarealconversationthattouchesontheiropinionsandviewpoints.IfyoureadanyofthefeaturesI’dwritten,you’dseethey’realittlemorecomplexthanasocialmediapost,”Iaddsourly.
“Icannotunderstandwhyanyadultswithhalfabrainareinterestedincelebrities,”Dadsniffs.“Iwouldhavethoughtonlyteenagerswouldcareaboutnarcissisticpopstarstalkingabouttheirhaircolorandwhokissedwhom.Drivel.”
“Idon’twritedrivel,”Isnap,beforedesperatelytryingtopullmyselfbackandtakingadeepbreathtosteadymyvoicewhenIcontinue.“TheaverageageofthereadershipofNarrativeisforty-fiveyearsold,andthearticlesareinteresting,well-researchedpieces.”
Hesnorts.Mybloodboils.I’vetried,butithasbeenaweek.
AndIamexhausted.
“Butasacelebrityeditor,”Mumjumpsin,wrinklinghernose,“you’rehardlywritingwell-researchedpieces,areyou?”
“Howwouldyouknow?”Iaskbluntly.“You’venevertakenanyinterestinwhatIdoorwhatIwrite.Itdoesn’tmatterwhatyouclassifyas‘seriousjournalism.’AllthatshouldmattertoyouisthatIlovewhatIdo.Butyoudon’tcareaboutthat,doyou?”
“Herewego,”Dadsighs.“Thedramatics.We’retryingtohaveacivilizedfamilydinner.”
“I’mstandingupformyself.Ifthat’sbeingdramatic,then—”
“Pleasedon’traiseyourvoice,Harper,”Dadinterrupts,holdinguphishand.“Allyourmotherwaspointingoutisthatyourroledoesn’trequirethesortof…significantjournalismthatothersdo.LikemycolleagueJasper’sson,forexample,whoisapoliticalreporter.OrthatcolumnistIlikewhowritesabouteconomics.Notfluffpieces.”
“Myjournalismissignificant,”Iassert.
Butmyvoicebreaksandhottearsprickbehindmyeyes,threateningtospilloveratanymoment.They’vestruckanerve,butthetearsarenotofsadness.They’reofrage.
Youknowwhat?IhavehadenoughofpeoplelikemyparentsandsisterandCosmolookingdowntheirnoseatmeandgoingoutoftheirwaytodisparageme.I’mtiredofhavingtoprovemyworthwhenIknowinmyheartthatwhatIdoisworthy:Itellpeople’sstories.Storiesthatentertain,inspire,andcaptivateanaudience.WhenareaderrelatestoapersonIinterview,nomatterhowdifferenttheirlivesmightbe,theyfeellessalone.
Iwon’tbetoldanymorethatthat’snotimportant.
I’vebeennothingbutpoliteanddecenttomyparentstonight;I’velistenedtothem,I’veaskedquestionsabouttheirlife.Andinreturn,they’veproddedandjabbed,tryingtogetariseoutofmesotheycancallmethedramaticone.
It’spathetic.It’sembarrassing.Idon’tneedapprovalfrompeoplewhocan’tshowanycommondecency.Theycanthinkwhattheywanttothink,butIdon’thavetosithereandletthemmakemefeelsmallsotheycanfeelsuperior
“Ihavetogo,”Isay,peelingmyclothnapkinoffmylapandbundlingitnexttomyglass.“Enjoytherestofyourevening.”
“What?Youcan’twalkoutinthemiddleofdinner!”Daddeclares,whileMummerelyswirlsherwineinherglass,lookingunsurprisedatmyannouncement.
“Yes,Ican,”Iinformhim,pushingmychairback.“Idon’twanttospendanymoretimeinyourcompany.Youdonothingbutbelittleme.I’mnotgoingtobebulliedbymyfamilyanylonger.”
“Harper,”Dadseethes,hisfaceturningred,“sitdown.”
“AndspendtheeveninglisteningtoyoucongratulateyourselvesandtellmehowmuchofadisappointmentIam?No,thanks.I’vemadethedecisiontonolongercarewhetherIdisappointyouornot.Thislittleget-togetherhascomeatoneofthelowestebbsofmylife,andactually,thathorrifyingtiminghasprovidedmewiththeclarityIneedtofreemyselffromyou.EventhoughI’vebeenmaderedundant—yes,thereyougo,youcandineoutonthatinformation,freeofcharge—anddespitenotbeinginarelationshipwithaLacoste-wearing,big-earningKendoll,Ifeelsorryforyou.”
Ipointmyfingerateachofthemaccusinglytohammerinmypoint.
“Howboringifeveryonemetyourapprovalandyourapprovalonly,”Icontinueconfidently.“Theworldwouldhavenodifferences,nocolor,nofun.Areyouevenhappy?Areyoureallyhappy?Becauseifyouwere,Idon’tunderstandwhyyou’dwanttobringmedownallthetime.EversinceIdecidedtobranchoutfromyourideaofsuccess,youhavegoneoutofyourwaytomakemefeellikeafailure.Howdoesthatsayinggo?‘Miserylovescompany.’Well,youthreecangoaheadandenjoythesefamilydinnerswithoutme,Ireallydon’tcareanymore.IthoughtthatI’dbeabletomakeyouproudoneday,butRyanwasrightallthoseyearsagowhenhesaidIshoulddoitformyself.I’mproudbecauseatleastIhavethegutstofollowmyownpathinthefaceofyourcontemptandridicule.So,inconclusion,screwallofyou.”
MumandDadstareatmeinuttershockatmyoutburst.
Pickingupmybagfromundertheseat,Igettomyfeet.
“Harper,”Julietpipesup,herfacecrumpling,“wait,please,Ineedtosaysomething.I—”
“You’rejustasbadasthem,youknow,”Isaywithdisgust,cuttingheroff.“You’veneverhadmybackorattemptedtostandupforme,evenwhentheywerebeingdownrightnasty.You’remybigsister,andyouneveroncereachedout.I’mreallynotinterestedinanythinganyofyouhavetosay.”
Leavingtheminsilence,Iwalkoutoftherestaurantwithasmileonmyface.
IfeellighterthanI’vefeltallweekCHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
I’mwatchingoldepisodesofModernFamilywhenthedoorbellgoes.Movingmylaptopoffmystomach,whereit’sbeenbalancedsothatIcanpretendtomyselfthatI’mdoingsomeformofwork,Igotothedoor,wonderingwhetherIunconsciouslyorderedanothertakeaway.
Workingfromhomehasbeenbothliberatingandsuffocating:I’veenjoyedthefreedomofwearingtracksuitbottomsandmyMissPiggyslippersallday,butI’vealsofeltslovenlyanduseless,trappedinmyflatwithnoonetotalktobuttheorchidIboughtatSainsbury’sonawhimtheotherday.I’venamedhimBudandheisapleasant,ifsomewhatminimal,conversationalist.
Mostofmyindustrycontactsarenowawareofmyredundancy.IspentMondaysendingemailstoalltheagentsandPRrepsIcouldthinkofandreceivedatorrentofsupportinreply.Ithoughtitwouldmakemeupset,butactuallyitwasnicetoreadtheiropinionsonthematter.Almostallofthempitchedmeclientstointerviewonafreelancebasis,whichwaspromising—IsupposeIcouldbooksomeintowriteupandshoparoundtopublicationsuntilIfindanewposition.
TherestoftheweekhasbeenspentwrappingthingsatNarrative,includingtellingtheagentsandmanagersoftheintervieweesthatIwasleaving,whichwasmildlyembarrassing.TheworstwastellingIsabellaBlossom.Isentheranemailwithherfilmpublicist,Rachael,cc’din,sayingthatIunderstoodifshe’dratherRyandotheinterviewnow,sinceIprobablywouldn’tbeatthemagazinebythetimewecouldarrangetocomeseeherandthebaby.RachaelquicklyrepliedsayinghowamazingIwasatmyjobandhowsorryshewastohearabouttheredundancy,beforeconcludingthatsheandIsabellawouldbeintouchregardingtheinterview.
LeavingNarrativehasalsomeantcompilingahandoverfileforRyan,sohecanstayuptospeedonanyfeaturesthatarecurrentlyintheworks.Hisrequestforaspreadsheetofinterviewsanddateshasnotbeenfulfilledbecausesuchadocumentdoesnotexist.WhenIemailedtotellhimthat,Iimaginedhimreadingitwithhissecretivesmile.Theoneheusedwhenmychaosamusedhim.
Idoubthesmileslikethatnow.
WheneverRyan’snamehaspoppedinmyinbox,myhearthasleapedintomythroat,buthe’sonlymatchedtheformaltoneofmyoriginalemail.Whichistobeexpected.He’sfollowingmylead,andIdidsaysomethingsduringourrain-drenchedspatthatmusthavehithome.Ryanisthekindofguywhowouldrespectmyrequestforhimtoleavemealone.He’dbelievemewhenItellhimthatIwon’ttrusthimagain.
Still,Ifindmyselftoyingwiththeideaofcallinghim—or,inmoredesperatemoments,showingupathisdoor.Aftermyoutburstatdinnerwithmyparents,Irealizedthathewastheonewhogavemethecouragetospeakmymind.Ifhehadbeenthere,Ithinkhewouldhavebeenproudofme.
ButthenIthinkabouthowIwrackedmybrainfordayswonderingwhatIdidwrong,howIthrewmyselfintoworkthinkingatleastIcouldexcelinthatareaofmylife,andmycheeksgrowhotwithhumiliation.Mypridecan’tquiteforgivehim.Besides,Idon’thavetimetobethinkingaboutmattersoftheheart.Ineedtogetbackonmyowntwofeetfirst.Ineedtofocusonme
AsfirmasIamaboutthisdecision,Istillwondereverytimethedoorbellrings.Whichiswhy,whenIpauseModernFamily,IhaveateensyflutterofhopethatitmightbeRyanstandingontheothersideofthedoor,holdingabouquetofflowers,beggingmetotakehimback.
It’snothim.It’snotaDeliveroodriver,either(whowouldhavebeenequallywelcome).
“Hi,”Julietsayssheepishly.
I’msostunnedtoseemysisterthatIdon’tsayanythingatfirst,staringatheropen-mouthed.IwonderifI’mhallucinating,thatmaybethethreeNobblyBobblyicecreamsI’veingestedtodayhavegonetomyhead.Foronething,mysisterhasneverbeentomyflatbefore.Idon’tknowifshe’sevenbeensouthoftheriverbefore,letaloneventuredasfarasBrixton.Andforanother,it’s2P.M.onaThursday,whichmeanssheshouldbeinanofficesomewhereyellingatpeopleonthephoneortakingimportantclientsoutforlunchinTheSavoy.Shedefinitelyshouldn’tbeatmydoorwearingjeans.
Ohmygod,shereallyiswearingjeans.Ihaven’tseenherincasualwearsinceshewas,like,ten.Andthat’snotevenanexaggeration:JulietwasoneofthosekidswhobecameconsciousofherstyleearlyonandwouldselectadorablelittleoutfitswithMumthatinvolvedbuckleshoesandbowsinherhair.IpreferredtheoversizedT-shirtandshortslook,anoutfitthatwouldbedirtywithinroughlytwominutesofmethrowingiton.Iwasliterallymadetostarinlaundrydetergentadverts.
Julietclearsherthroatexpectantly.
“S-sorry,hi,”Istammer.“Whatareyoudoinghere?ItisThursday,right?IsitThursday?HaveImissedacoupleofdaysandit’stheweekend?”
“No,it’sThursday,”sheconfirms.“Sorrytoshowupunannouncedlikethis.CanIcomein?”
Partofmewouldliketosaynoandslamthedoorinherface.Ihaven’tspokentoanyofmyfamilysincethedinnerlastweek.Iwasn’texpectingthemtocontactmeafterthewayIspoketothem,andasImadeclearatthetime,thatwasfinebyme.
Buttheremustbeareasonshe’smadethejourneyhere,andsomehowmannersandcuriosityoverridemyfeelingsofanger.
Standingbacktoletherin,Iwatchasshetreadscarefullyintotheflat.
“DoIneedtotakemyshoesoff?”sheasks,gesturingatherdesignerpumps.
Isuppressalaugh.“Uh,no.You’refine.”
Shenodsandshufflesin,standingawkwardlyinthekitchenwhileIshutthedoor.Shetakesagoodlookaround.It’scurrentlynotthetidiestofhomes,butit’sdefinitelynotasbadasit’sbeen.
“Wouldyoulikeadrink?”Ioffer.
“Thanks,thatwouldbelovely.Doyouhaveanyherbalteas?”
“Peppermint.”
“Perfect,thankyou,”shesaysasIgotofillupthekettle.“Thisisaniceflat.”
“Thanks.Alittlesmallerthanyours,Iimagine.”
“It’smuchmorehomeythanmine,”shesayscarefully.“Ithascharacter.”
Isnort.“Onewayofdescribingit.”
Reachingfortwomugsandtheboxofpeppermintteabagsoutthecupboard,Isetthemdownonthecounter.Shewatchesoninsilence,clutchingherhandbag.
“Youcansitdownifyou’dlike,”Isay,gesturingtothekitchentable.“Oronthesofaifyou’dprefer.”
“Here’sfine,”shereplies,pullingoutthechairandperchingontheedge.
Eventhewaywesitiscompletelydifferent.Julietlooksregal,sittingupstraight,shouldersback,chestout,chinup.
Thekettlesignalsthatit’sboiled,andIpourthewaterintothemugs.Idon’treallywantapepperminttearightnow,butI’mgoingtoneedsomethingtodistractmyhandswith,anditmightaswellbeamug.
“Doyouleavetheteabagin?”Iask.
“Yes,thankyou.”
“Metoo,”Isay,althoughI’mnotsurewhyshe’dbeinterested.
Isetthetwomugsdownandsitattheoppositesideofthetable.Shethanksmeandthenfallssilentagain,hereyesdartingaboutnervously.
“Juliet,”Ibegin,tooinquisitivetoremainpoliteanylonger,“whatexactlyareyoudoinghere?”
Shenodsasthoughshe’sbeenwaitingformetoaskandneededtheprompt.
“Iwantedtocheckyouwereokayafterwhathappenedlastweek.And…Iwantedtoapologize,too,”shesays,lookingmerightintheeye.
Iraisemyeyebrows.“Really?”
“Yes.Ineedtoapologizeforafewthings,actually.Butmostly,I’msorryfornotstandingupforyou.MumandDad…theyshouldn’tsaythethingstheydo.Ifeelterribleabouthowtheyspeaktoyou,andIwantedyoutoknowthat.”
Istareather.Completelytakenabackbytheapology,I’msuspiciousthatthisissomekindoftricksomehow.Thatshe’sgoingtoreachintoherhandbagandbringoutacustardpietothrowinmyfacebeforeroaringwithlaughterandshrieking,“ASIF!”
Shelooksasthoughshemeansit,though.Andthere’snosignofacustardpieanywhere.Butit’sstilltoosuddenandrandomformetobeconvinced.
“Iknowit’stoolittletoolate,”shecontinues,recognizingtheconfusioninmyexpression.“ButIwantedtosayitanyway.It’simportanttosayit,accordingtomytherapist.”
“You’reseeingatherapist?”
“Forafewmonthsnow.ThebestthingIeverdid.”Lookingdownatthetable,shetapsthehandleofthemug.“Ispeakaboutyoualot.AndMumandDad.Butalotaboutyou.”
“Really?I’msurprisedIfeatureatall,”Isay,unabletomaskthebitterness.
“Youdo.Heavily.”SheliftsthemugtoherlipstoblowonitandInoticeshe’sshaking.
“So,youcameheretoapologize,”Icheck.
“Notjustthat,”shesayshurriedly,puttingtheteabackdown.“IalsowantedtoletyouknowthatIthoughtwhatyoudidatthedinnerlastweekwasextremelybrave.Braveandinspirational.Itinspiredme.”
Inarrowmyeyesather.“Didyoucomeheretotakethepissoutofme?”
“No!”sheinsists,panicked.“I’mbeingserious.Iswear.”
“WhatIsaidatthedinnerinspiredyou?”
“Yes,”shesays,noddingvigorously.“ItinspiredmetotellMumandDadthetruth,whichiswhatIdidafteryouleft.ItoldthemthatIquitmyjobfivemonthsago.”
Myjawdropstothefloor.“Youwhat?”
“Iknow.”Shegivesmeafaintsmile,asthoughshecan’tquitebelieveitherself.“Rightaftertheyofferedmepartneratthefirm.I’vebeenunemployedandlyingtoeveryonethiswholetime.”
“Youquityourjob?Why?”
“BecauseIwasmiserable,”shesayswithashrug,hereyesbrightening.“AndI’msomuchhappiernow.Imean,I’mnothappyassuch.I’mstillworkingoutwhatIwanttodo.ButIhatedmyjob.IhatedthepressureandthestressandthefactthatIworkedallhoursofthedaybutdidn’tgetanyfulfillment.WhenItoldMumandDadthatI’dbeenofferedpartner,theykeptsayingthiswaswhatI’dbeenworkingfor—that’swhenithitme.I’dgottowhereIwantedtobeandIwasevenmoremiserablethanbefore.SoIturneddownthefirm’sofferandquit.”
Idon’tknowwhattosay.I’mstunnedintosilence.
“Oh,andIbrokeupwithHarryweeksago,”sheaddsbeforetakingasipofhertea.“I’vebeentooscaredtotellMumbecauseIknowsheadoredhim,butItoldthemthatatthedinner,too,afteryouleft.Harryisagreatguyforsomeoneelse,butnotforme.IthinkhewasabitrelievedwhenIcalleditoff,tobehonest.”
“Juliet,”Isay,mybrainscramblingforwords,“thisisalotofinformationtoprocess.”
“Iknow.You’retakingitalotbetterthanMumandDad.Theyweren’tveryhappy.”
Igrimaceatthethought.“Icanimagine.”
“DadsaidIwasobviouslyconfusedandhadhadalittleblip,butthathewassurethefirmwouldtakemebackifIexplained.”Shesighs.“ItoldhimIwasn’tevergoingbackandhethrewhisnapkindownonthetableinprotest.”
“Scandalous.”
Shehesitates,addingquietly,“Mumcouldn’tevenlookatme.ShesaidshehopedIknewthatIwassabotagingmylife.Ileftafterthat.”
Istareather,impressed.“Haveyouheardfromthemsince?”
“Dadhasleftafewvoicemailsthathavecoveredarangeofemotions.Insome,he’sattemptedtobeunderstanding,sayingheknowsthepressureofthejobcanbealot,butthathe’scertainIcanfindmywaythroughandgetbackontrack.Othershavebeenfullofyelling.”Sheletsoutaheavysigh.“I’mgoingtogiveitsometimebeforeIrespond.”
“That’sagoodidea.Letthedustsettle.”
“Ican’timaginewhatit’sbeenlikeforyou,”shesays,lookingpainedandshakingherhead.“Dealingwiththemallthistime.”
“I’musedtotheirdisappointment,”Iassureherwithashrug.
“I’veresentedthemforalongtime,”sheadmits,bringinghereyesuptolookatmeagain.“Therapyhashelpedmerealizethat.I’vebeensofocusedonpleasingthemandlivinguptotheirexpectationsthatIforgotwhatitwasliketomakemyselfhappy.Igotusedtoshuttingmyselfofffromanyfeelingsofjoy.AllIfocusedonwasmaintainingtheirapproval.AlongthewayIlostmyself.AndIlostyou,too.”
Ihesitate.“Yeah,well,we’veneverbeenonthesamepage.”
“Iwantthattochange,”shesaysfiercely.“IknowthatI’vebeenaterriblesistertoyou,Harper,andIknowthatwe’redifferent.ButIwouldliketorepairwhateverrelationshipwe’reabletosalvage.Orbuildacompletelynewone.It’salottoaskandIknowyou…youmightnotbeinterested,butit’simportantthatyouknowhowmuchIwanttomakethingsbetterbetweenus.Youdon’thavetodecidenow.Youcantakeyourtime.Butthat’sthemainreasonI’mheretoday.”
She’slookingatmesoearnestlythatIfeeloverwhelmedwithamixtureofemotions.I’vebeensoangryatherforsolongandfeltsodistantfromherthattheideaoffindingcommongroundwhenwe’reinourthirtiesseemsdelusionalandfutile.ButIalsofindmyselfgrapplingwithfeelingsofcompassiontowardher.Maybe,forthefirsttimeever,Iunderstandheralittlebetter.
“Ihadnoideathatyouwereunhappy,”Isayeventually.“Ithoughtyouhadtheperfectlife.”
Herexpressioncloudsover.“Trustme,Ididn’t.Idon’t.Lookscanbedeceiving.”
“Butwhydoyouwanttobuildarelationshipwithmenow,whenyou’veneverwantedtobefore?Youdidn’tevennoticemebeforenow.”
“That’snottrue,”shesaysfirmly.“Yes,I’vebeenwrappedupinmyownlife,butthethingis,Harper,I’vealwaysbeenenviousofyou.”
“Enviousofme?”
Shenods,frowning.“YouhadthegutstostanduptoMumandDadandtellthemwhoyouareandwhatyouwanted.IhadnoideawhoIwas,really.Iwassojealousofthefreedomyoucreatedforyourself.AndthenbeingaroundyouonlyamplifiedtheguiltIfeltoverlettingMomandDadbesohorribletoyouwhileallowingthemtofawnalloverme.Iwastooscaredtoletthemdownbecausethen…thenthey’dtreatme…”
“Thesamewaytheytreatedme,”Iconcludeforher.
Shenods,hereyeswellingup.“Exactly.I’vebeensocowardly.I’msorry,Harper.”
Ipressmylipstogether,blinkingbacktears.
“Whatyousaidatdinner,youwereright.Theyarebullies,andI’veenabledthem,”shecontinues.“Iwanttothankyou,becauseit’syouwhofinallyhelpedmefindthecouragetobehonestwiththem.Forthefirsttime.AndIdon’tknowifthey’llevergetoverit,butIdofeelmuchbetternowtheyknowthetruth.It’slikeaweighthasbeenliftedandIcanfinallymoveforward.Soevenifyoudecidethatyoudon’twantmeinyourlife,I’malwaysgoingtobegratefultoyouforthat,Harper.”
Wefallintosilence.Iconsiderwhatshe’ssaidandtrytoworkoutwheretogofromhere.
“I’mproudofyou,”Isayfinally,surprisingmyselfbutmeaningit.
Sheinhalessharply,herknuckleswhiteningasshegripshermug.
“Whatyou’vedone—quittingyourjob,goingtotherapy,tellingourparentsthetruth—allofthatisstuffyoushouldbeproudof,”Isay.“And…Iwouldliketotakesomestepstorepairingourrelationship.I’vealwaysthoughtitwouldbefuntohaveasister.”
Tearsstreamdownhercheeks.
“Thatmeansalot,Harper.Thankyou.”
“Thankyouforcomingheretotalktome.Can’thavebeeneasynavigatingSouthLondon,”Isayplayfully.
“Itisastrangenewworld,”shegrins,openingherhandbagtopluckoutatissueanddabhereyes.Shetakesamomenttoregaincomposure,drinkingsometeabeforegivingmeasympatheticlook.“I’mreallysorryaboutyourjob,Harper.Iknowyoulovedit.”
“Thanks.It’sbeenabitrubbish.ButmyfriendMimithrewagreatleavingpartylastFridaythatinvolvedapi?atawithmyboss’sfaceonit.Igottosmacktheshitoutofhim.”
“Itakeithedidn’tattendtheparty.”
“Hehadabowlingtournament.”
Shelaughs.“Bytheway,IreadyourAudreyAbbotinterview.”
“Yeah?”
“Itwasbrilliant.”Shehesitates.“Someonewhopulledthemselvesupfromtheground,dustedthemselvesoff,andmadeitthrough.She’siconic.”
“Sheis.Waituntilyoureadhermemoirs.Talkaboutupsanddowns,she’sbeenthroughitall,”Iinformherproudly.
“I’vebeenlisteningtothisgreatpodcastrecentlyaboutfailureandhowitcanmoldyouintobeingthebestversionofyourself,andhowyoucanuseittobuildyoursuccess.Everyoneyou’veadmiredhasfailedatsomepoint,orfeltliketheywerefailing.Therearefamousguestsoniteveryweektalkingabouttheirfailuresandhowtheygottowheretheyarenow.Youshouldlistentoit.Notthatbeingmaderedundantisafailure,butitmighthelptogiveyouanewperspectiveonthings.It’shelpedme,anyway.”
“Soundsinteresting.I’llgiveitatry.”
“Ifanyonecanpullthemselvesup,it’syou,”shesayssimply.
Iglancedownatthetable.“Idon’tknowaboutthat.”
“Ido,”shereplieswithouthesitation,forcingmetolookbackupather.“Changeisscary,butsometimesbeingforcedoutofyourcomfortzoneisnecessary.Thiscouldbethebestthingthateverhappenedtoyou.”
“You’renotthefirstpersontotellmethat.Afewothershavesaidthesamething.”
“Maybewe’reontosomething.”
Ismileandofferheranotherdrink.SheacceptsandIsuggestmakingushoneytea.Itturnsoutshelovesit,too,butonlyhasitontheweekendsasatreat.Weagreetomakeanexceptionfortoday.
“Afterall,neitherofushasajob.”Sheshrugs.“SoIguesseverydayisaweekend.”
Nowthatwe’vehadthedifficultconversationandwe’vecriedandlaughed,somethingintheairbetweenushaslifted.Werelax,movingawayfromtheheavytopics.TalkingaboutthehoneyteaMumwouldmakeuswhenweweresickencouragesustoreminisceaboutourchildhood,bringingupmemoriesthattheothermayhaveforgotten.It’scathartictorememberthehappiertimesweshared,beforelifegotinthewayandthingswereexpectedofus.
WehugwhensheleavesandsheholdsonalittletighterandforalittlelongerthanI’mexpecting.Shetellsmeshe’llmessagesomedatesthatwecoulddolunch.Ishutthedoorbehindherandfeellighter,somethingwithinmebeginningtoheal.
IreturntomylaptoptoseeveryfewemailshavelandedinmyinboxwhileI’vebeenbusyhavingaheart-to-heartwithmylong-lostsister,andI’mjustabouttoslumpbackonthesofawhenmyphonerings.IcheckthecallerID—it’sIsabellaBlossom.
“Harper,hi,”shesayswhenIpickup.“Howareyou?”
“I’mgood,”Ireply,hearingthebabygurglinginthebackground.“Howareyou?How’smumlife?”
“I’msosorryaboutyourjob,”shesays,ignoringmyquestion.“Ihopeyouhaven’tbeentooupsetaboutit.”
“Takingitallinmystride,”IassureherasIheadtowardthefreezertohavemyfourthNobblyBobblyandwonderingwhetherit’sacceptabletospeaktoaHollywoodA-listeronthephonewhileeatinganicecream.
“Listen,I’vespokentoRachaelandsheagreed—Iwantyoutohavetheexclusiveaboutmeandthebaby.”
“That’ssolovelyofyou,butI’llhavetocheckwithCosmothathe’shappyformetowriteitwhenIdon’ttechnically—”
“No,Harper,”sheinterrupts.“Ipromisedtheexclusivetoyou.Notthemagazine.”
Ishutthefreezerdoorandstraighten.“Huh?”
“It’sinyourhandswhatyoudowiththeinterview,althoughmayberunitpastmeandRachaelfirst.Iknowyouhaveimpeccabletastewithpublications,andIdotrustyou,butthereareacoupleofmagazinesoutthereI’dratherdidn’tgetit,basedonpastrun-insI’vehadwiththem.Butthepointis,it’syourarticle,nooneelse’s.Wecandothishoweveryouwant,aslongasI’mspeakingtoyou.”
Somethingsparksinmybrain.Anidea.Agoodidea.AndalotofthecreditforitgoestoJuliet.Ileanagainstmyfridge,phoneagainstmyear,mybrainsuddenlywhirringwithpossibilities.
“Harper,areyouthere?”Isabellaprompts.“HaveIlostyou?”
“I’mhere,”Iassureher.“ButIthink…ImighthaveanideathatI’dliketodiscusswithyouabouthowtomakethiswork.”
“Yeah?Okay,great!Areyoufreetomorrow?”
“Tomorrowworksperfectly.”
“Wonderful.Ican’twaittoseeyou.Iknowthatyou’llwritetheperfectarticle.”
“That’sthething,”Isay,asmilespreadingacrossmyface.“Idon’tthinkI’llbewritinganythingatall.”CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Ineededalotofhelpsettingupthepodcast.MimicameoverattheweekendandwebrainstormedtheformatitwouldtakeandalltheequipmentI’dneed.Iwasnervoustotellhermyidea:thatmaybeaswellasdoingsomefreelancewriting,Icouldlaunchacelebritypodcast.Shethoughtitwasgeniusandofferedherhelprightawaywithgettingitofftheground.IalreadyknewalltherightpeopleandIbelievedthatenoughofthemtrustedmetobeapartofitatthebeginning,thenhopefullyitwouldgrowabigenoughaudienceforotherstogaininterestandputtheirclientsforwardforitwhentheyhadsomethingtopromote.IwouldessentiallybedoingwhatIlove—talkingtothoseinthepubliceyeandhearingtheirstories—withouthavingtofightCosmoforthefrontpage.Iwouldhavetolearnhowtoeditinanentirelynewway,butIwasreadyforthechallenge.
IfloatedtheideatoIsabellaBlossomwhenIvisitedherbeautifulWestLondontownhouseonFridayandsheagreedwithouthesitationtobemyfirstguest.Shefinallydisclosedthefullnameofthebabytomeinstrictestconfidence,havingdoneanextraordinaryjobofkeepingitfromthepresssofar:RyanDarylHarperBlossom.
“Darylaftermydad,andIcouldn’tnotnamehimafterthetwopeoplewhodeliveredhimintothisworld,”shesaidwithagrin,gazingdownathimashesleptcradledinmyarms.“DoyouthinkRyanwillmind?”
“Ithinkhe’llbeverytouched,”Iwhispered,myeyespricklingwithtears.
“Good.”Shesmiled.“Icouldtellhehasagentlesoul,yourRyan.Ilikedhim.”
Inoddedandtheconversationmovedon.Iknowsheonlysaid“yourRyan”todifferentiatefromherRyan,butthephrasingstillstung.
Acoupleofdayslater,whentheequipmenthadallarrivedandI’dgottenthesoftwaresorted,IreturnedtoIsabella’shouseandwerecordedthepilotepisodeofWhatYouDon’tKnow,whichtheblurbdescribesas“thebrand-newpodcastwhereyourfavoritecelebritiessitdownwithhostHarperJenkinstocovereverythingyouthinkyouknowabouttheircareersandpersonallives—andafewthingsyoudon’t,includingwhatthey’velearnedalongthewayandwherethey’reheadednext.”
Isabellagaveafantasticinterview,andIknewassoonaswe’dfinishedthat,whetherornotthepodcastwouldbesuccessful,thisparticularepisodewasgoingtobeahit.Wewereinhystericsasshediscussedthedetailsofthebirthandwerecalledthepoortaxidriver’sreaction.Butwhenshetalkedaboutthetrialsofsingleparenthoodandhowscaredshewas,Igotalumpinmythroat.Shedescribedfeelinglikeshehadnoideawhatshewasdoing—cryingtearsofdespaironeminutebecausebabyRyanwasn’tsleepingwellandtearsofhappinessthenextsimplybecausehesmiled—andIknewlistenerswouldfindthemselveseasilyrelatingtothisHollywoodstarwhoselifemighthaveotherwiseseemedamillionworldsapart.
Wealsotalkedabouthercareerandthepressureshe’dfeltwhenshewasstartingouttolookacertainwayandbeacertainway.Shewasbothcriticaloftheindustryandadoringofit,acknowledgingtheimportantchangesitwasmakinginhowittreatedwomenandminoritiesandwhatmoreneededtobedone,whilealsodescribinghowshefellinlovewithmakingmoviesandthemagicofslippingintoacharacter.
Itwasinteresting,itwassad,itwashappy,itwasreal.
Itwasalotofediting.
Butsoworthit.AfterMimilistenedtoit,shegavemeagianthug—andwhenshetoldmeI’ddonesomethingspecial,Icouldfeelitinmybones.
ThatgavemetheboostofconfidenceIneededtostartspreadingtheword.IwantedtorecordafewepisodesbeforelaunchingsoIwasn’tscramblingoncewewerelive.Icontactedagentstopitchmynewventure,carefullynotingthatthepilotepisodewasanexclusiveinterviewwithIsabellaBlossom,andIhadexcellentresponsesstraightaway.Shamaricalledmethesamedaysayingshehadagreatlineupofguestsforme.
“Letmeguess,thatsexyup-and-comingactorJulianNewt?”Isaid,smilingintothephone.
“Heisfascinating,Harper,andcantalkaboutstarringalongsideAudreyAbbotintheplay.Notjustthat,but—hot-off-the-pressnews—he’slandedtheleadroleinanotherromanticNetflixmovie.ALondonhigh-flyerwhosedistantauntleavesherapubinherwillmovestothetinyvillageinthecountrysidewhereit’slocatedandfallsforthebroodinglocalguywhoworksbehindthebar.Youknowit’sgoingtobeahit.”
“Ihavenodoubt.”
“Letmesendyousomeoftheinterviewshe’sdoneforothers.He’safunnyguy,fullofpersonality,andhehassomegreatstoriesaboutbreakingintothebusiness.Plus,he’sgotsomeinterestingviewsonpressuresonmenintheindustry,too.”
Irolledmyeyesandsmiled.“Okay,sendthearticlesoverandI’llgivethemaread.”
“Excellent!”sheexclaimed.“Andtothankyouforthat,IwouldalsoliketosuggestDylanKnoxofArtistryfameforyourconsideration.”
Ialmostdroppedthephone.“W-what?”
“Ohyes,Harper,youheardthatright.”Shechuckled,soundingverypleasedwithherself.“Ipersuadedhimtotalktoyouforthemagazine,butIwilllethimknowthatthepodcastwillbebetter.Iimaginethat’smorehisstyleanyway.Hedoeslikethesoundofhisownvoice.”
“DylanKnoxwillbeonmypodcast?”
“We’llhavetogooverthequestions,Harper,”sheinformedmesternly,“becausehewon’tgointotherecentfalloutwiththebandandwhythereuniontourgotpulled.Sayingthat,Iwillrevealtoyou—strictlyofftherecord—thattheyarebackindiscussions.Ifyou’relucky,bythetimeyourecord,hemightbeabletorevealsomenewsaboutitonyourpodcast.Butmoreimportantly,itlookslikehe’sabouttolandaroleinabigprison-dramaTVshow,anditwouldseemhe’shadafreshboostofconfidenceinhisactingabilities…largelythankstome,ofcourse.Ithinkitmightworkoutthistime.Sometimesyoujustneedtherightroleattherighttime,asIsaidtohim.”
“Shamari,howcanIeverthankyou?”Isaid,grippingthephone.
“Youcankeepgivingmyfabulousclientspublicityonyourpodcast,”sherepliedmatter-of-factly.“It’salwaysbeenatwo-waystreet,darling.AndyouknowIcan’tresistyourcharmandthewayyoustalkmeonmycoffeeruns.Anyway,Imustdash.OneofthosefabulousclientsImentionedhasjustturnedupattheoffice,andjudgingbyherevilglaresthroughmyglassdoor,I’mabouttogetabollockingaboutputtingherupforagiganticflop.I’llemailyoutoarrangedatesforrecording!Byenow!”
Dizzywithexcitement,Ihungupthephoneandstarteddancingaroundmykitchenfloor.ThankstoShamari,Imanagedtorecordtwomoreepisodesinquicksuccession,andthenIsabellaBlossomcontactedmetosayitwastimetoreleasethepodcast—shewasworriedoneofheruntrustworthyacquaintanceshadgottendetailsofthebirthstoryandwasgoingtoblabtothepress.
Itwasnowornever.
ThedaythepodcastgoesliveandIsabella’sepisodebecomesavailable,it’saninstanthit.Iknewshewasgoingtogodownwell,butIhadnoideatheepisodewouldtakeofflikethis.I’mastonishedbytheresponse,sittingathomeonmylaptop,watchingthenumberofdownloadsshootthroughtheroof,scrollingthroughthementionsonsocialmedia.ThestoryofIsabellagivingbirthinataxigoesviral—peopleloveit.Theyloveher.Andtheyloveme.IsuddenlygainhundredsofnewInstagramfollowersandtheinboxI’dsetupspecificallyforthepodcastexplodeswithguestrequestsandpitches.
Isabellaandmypodcastareallovertheshowbizheadlines,andtheattentiongetsevenmorefrenziedwhenIpostthatthenextepisodewillbeaninterviewwithDylanKnoxofArtistry.
Isitaloneintheflat,lettingitallsinkin.Myphonevibrateswithmessagesandcallsfromfriendscongratulatingme.AhugebouquetofflowersarrivesfromIsabellaandRyanBlossom.Anotherbouquetofflowersisdelivered,andIlaughasIreadthemessageattachedtoitfromJuliet.SCREWMUMANDDAD,itreads.YOUDIDITFORYOURSELF.
AndthenIgetamessagethatI’dbeenhopingfor,butnotexpecting.AWhatsAppfromRyan.MyRyan:
Iknewyoucoulddoit.Thisisjustthebeginning.Congratulationsx
Thatnight,MimiandIgooutforaveryboozydinner.It’snowherefancy,oneofourfavoriteplacesinBrixtonVillagewhereyouhavetoqueueforagesandthensitonamakeshiftchairofstackedwoodencratesanddrinkwinefromtumblers.Whenwe’redoneeating,we’removedonquicklybythestaff,whoaretryingtogetthequeuedownasmuchaspossible,andheadtoacocktailbarafewdoorsdownwherewecontinuetodrinkfromtumblers,butthistimesittingonawoodenbench.
“Atoasttoyou!”Mimideclares,holdingupherglass.“HarperJenkins,whohasturnedredundancyintoanabsolutetriumph!”
Ilaugh,knockingmyglassagainsthers.“It’sstillearly.”
“Thepodcastisalreadyasmashandyou’vereleasedoneepisode.One.Everyonealreadyknowsthatit’sheretostay,”shetellsme.“Theywerealltalkingaboutitintheofficetoday.Yourearsmusthavebeenburning.”
“Really?”Isaynonchalantly,likeit’snobigdeal.“Whatwerepeoplesaying?”
“Howamazingitisandhowyou’regoingtobefamous.”
Iwavethatoffwithmyhand.“Nothanks.”
“You’regoingtobelikethishostextraordinaire.Oneday,you’llhaveashowlikeGrahamNorton,Ijustknowit.”
Iburstoutlaughing.“Okay,that’sastretch,butIappreciateyourbeliefinme.”
“Oh,andyoushouldhaveseenCosmo.Ha!”Hereyeswidenwithglee.“Heknowshe’smadeabigmistake.AtfirsthewasupinarmsaboutyougettingtheIsabellaBlossomexclusive,keptshoutingthatitwasthemagazine’s,butRyansethimstraightonthatone,remindinghimthatIsabellaenteredintonosuchcontractwithNarrative.ThenwhenherealizedthatRyanwasright,heswitchedtacticsandbecameyourbiggestfan.Theresponseyou’vegot,theinteractiononline—he’salreadyscramblingabout,tryingtoworkoutawaytogetyoutowriteforthemagazineagain.He’sdesperatelytryingtocapitalizeonyourpopularity.Didyouseeallthepostsfromthemagazine’ssocialmediatodayabouttheMaxSj?bergpiecethatyouandRyanwrote?Itwasinthemagazineovertheweekend.”
Iblush,thinkingabouttheManchestertrip.“Isawit.”
“Cosmohasbeenyellingaboutmakingsureyournameisincludedineverypostweputuponsocials.Apparently,thepowersthatbearenothappyaboutthefactthey’vejustletgooftheirstarjournalist.Youreallyhavemadethemsorry.”
“IwishIwasthekindofpersonwhocouldbematureaboutthis,butI’mnot.”Igrin.“Hearingthatmakesmeveryhappy.”
“Maytheyruetheday.”
“Absolutely.”
“Ryanisveryproudofyou.”
Isnapmyheadup.Shesmilesintoherdrink,pleasedatmyreactiontohercomment.
“Hesaidsomethingtoyou?”Iaskeagerly.
“Hesaidsomethingtoeveryone,”sheinformsme.“You’reoneofthemosttalentedjournalistshe’severmet,andhehadnodoubtthatyou’dbeasuccess.Hesaidheknewthatthemomenthemetyou.”
Nodding,Ilookdownatthetable.
“Healsotoldmethemomenthemetyouwaswhenhefellheadoverheelsforyou,”shecontinuescasually.
“What?Hesaidthatinfrontofeveryone?”
“HaveyoumetRyan?Ofcoursenot,”shesnorts.“HetoldmethatbackbeforeyouwenttoFlorence.”
“Wait,what?I’mconfused.”
“BeforethepresstriptoFlorence,Ryanconfessedhisloveforyou,”shesays.“Itwasverysweet.Hemademepromisenottotellyou,though.Hesaidyoulikelyalreadyknew,butyouwouldprobablybeembarrassedaboutmeknowing.SoIkeptschtum.”
“But…whywouldhetellyouthat?”Iask,aghast.
“Hehadtotellmesothatwecouldconcoctourlittleplanforthetwoofyoutoenduponthepresstriptogether.”Shesighs,settingherglassdown.“Youdidn’treallythinkyouendeduponthattriptogetherbycoincidence,didyou?”
“But…youpulledhisnameoutofthehat.Isawyou!Weallsawyou!”Mybrainiscloudedbyalcohol,butIdistinctlyremembertherebeingmultiplepiecesofpaperinthathat
“Thatwasalldowntomebeingageniusmagician,”shedeclaresproudly.“I’llletyouinonthesecretbehindthatclevertrick.Everypieceofpaperinthehathad‘Ryan’writtenonit.Sneaky,right?Itwasabitmeanontheothermembersoftheteam,butI’llmakesuretheygetnicepresstripsatsomepoint.YouknowI’mfairaboutthesethings,usually.”
“Mimi,”Isay,reachingoutandgrippingherarm,“pleaseexplaintomehowandwhythisallhappened.”
“It’sverysimple.ImadetheannouncementabouttherebeingaspareplaceontheFlorenceweekend,andRyanaskedifhecouldhaveaword,sooffwewentforacoffeeandhetoldmeabouthisfeelingsforyouandofferedtodowhateverworkthatIneededdoingifIgavehimtheplaceonthetrip.Hesaidhe’dworkweekends,evenings,whatever.ButI’manoldromantic,soIsaidthatwasn’tnecessary.Iknewhowyoufeltabouthim—everyoneknewhowyoufeltabouteachother—and,consideringthehotkissyou’dhadinhisflatandhowflusteredyou’dgottencomposingthatmessagetohimafterbreakingupwithLiam,Ithoughtitwouldbeagentlenudgeintherightdirectionforyouboth.AndIwasright.”
“Younever…Ididn’t…Wait,whatdoyoumeaneveryoneknewhowwefelt?You’renottalkingabout…youdon’tmeanpeopleintheofficeknew?”
Shecackleswithlaughter.“Jesus,Harper,thewayyoutwolookateachother?Nothinghaseverbeenmoreobvious.FromtheveryfirstweekthatRyanstartedatthemagazine,theartteamhadabetonhowlongitwouldtakeyoutoenduptogether.”
“Theartteamhadwhat?”
“Nobodywon.Ittookyoutwoidiotsabitlongerthantheywereexpecting.Ifonlytheyknewthewholestoryandthatitactuallytookyoumorethantenyearstoworkitout.”
“Idon’tunderstand,”Isay,shakingmyhead.“Wewerealwaysfighting.”
“Undeniablechemistry.”
“Everyoneknewwehatedeachother.”
“Everyoneknewyoulovedeachother.”
Iblinkather.
Ihaven’tsaiditoutloud,butthemomentshesaysit,Iknowshe’sright.Idolovehim.Deflating,Iclosemyeyes.Itcouldbethecocktailsspeaking,butitsuddenlyfeelsthatnomatterwhat’shappenedbetweenus,itdoesn’tmatter,becauseIwaswrong.IcantrustRyan.Idotrusthim.
Morethananything,Idon’twanttobewithouthim.
“Isaidsomehorriblethingstohim.WhatdoIdo?”Iwhimper,openingmyeyesandlookingatMimipleadingly.
“You’reHarperJenkins.You’llthinkofawaytogetwhatyouwant.”Shesmiles.“Youalwaysdo.”
WhenIstumblehomethatnight,ithitsme.
Isetmyalarmfor5:55A.M.,5:57A.M.,6A.M.,6:03A.M.,and6:05A.MCHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
I’matRoastedbyquarterpastseven.
Inervouslyhangaroundoutsideforabit,rememberingwhyIdon’tlikegettingtoplacesearly,becauseyouhavetimetothinkaboutthingsandI’malreadyfeelingsicktomystomachasitis.Thatispartlydowntothehangoverfromlastnightandsuchanearlystartthismorning,butit’smostlybecauseofwhatIknowIhavetodo.Pacingbythedoor,Ijointhequeueathalfpast,glancingbackovermyshouldereveryfewseconds,terrifiedthatI’llgetthetimingwrongandthiswon’twork.
Whenmycoffeesareready,Igrabthemandlingerbythedooragain.Mycalculationshavepaidoff,though.Atexactlysevenforty,Ryancomesintosight,walkingfromthetubestation,hishandsinhispockets,hisjawset,hiseyesfixedonthegroundafewpacesaheadofhim.Hewasn’tlyingwhenheusedtosayhowearlyhegottotheofficeeveryday.
Iexhaleshakilyand,steelingmyself,Imarchovertostandinhisway.
Hestopsandlooksup.Hiseyeswidenwithdisbelief.
“Harper!”
“Hey.”
Westareateachotherforamoment,takingtheotheronein.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”heasks,hisforeheadcreasinglikeitdoeswhenhe’sconfusedaboutsomethingandistryingtofindthesolution.
“Igotyouamocha,”Isay,holdingitoutforhim.“Iknowyoulikethose.”
Hetakesthecupfrommeandraiseshiseyebrowsashereadsthenamewritteninblackmarkeracrosstheside.
“ThisisforParker.”
“IpurposefullysaidParkerthistime,”Iconfess.“Itseemedeasier.”
Henods.“Thanks.”
“Iwantedtogiveyouamochaandalsoanapology,”Isayhurriedly,desperatetogetthisoutbeforeIlosemynerve.“ThedayIlostmyjob,Isaidalotofthings…angrythings,andIwasupsetandhurtandyoudidn’tdeserveit.So,Iwantedtosaysorry.”
Helookssurprised.“Oh.”
“I’vebeenthinkingabouteverythingandhowitwasunfairofmetoexplodeatyoulikethat,”Iramble,“especiallywhenI’dbeentheoneinFlorencetellingyouthatIwantedtokeepthingsprofessionalatwork.Cosmoputyouinadifficultposition,andasupsetasIwas,Ishouldn’thavetakenitoutonyou.I’msorry.”
Hehesitates.“Right.Thankyou.”
“You’rewelcome.”
Webothstandthereawkwardly.
“I’msorry,too,”hesayseventually,frowning.“Fornottellingyou.”
“Iknow.”Inod.“Youalreadytoldmethat.”
Moresilence.
“Congratulationsonthepodcast,”hesays.“It’sincredible.”
“Thanks!Andthankyouforyourmessage.Thatwasreallyniceofyou.”
“Ofcourse.”
Thisisexcruciating.Ididn’tthinkitwasgoingtogolikethis.Ididn’tknowhowitwasgoingtogo,butIdidn’tthinktherewouldbesomanyawkwardpauses.There’sagulfbetweenus,andIhavenoideahowtocloseit.
TheonlythingIcanthinktodoisfollowRyan’sleadfromFlorence.Timetobareitall.
“Okay,heregoes,”Isayoutloud,psychingmyselfupandlookingintothosepiercingblueeyesthatmakemyheartthudsohard,itringsinmyears.“Ryan,sinceyoustartedworkingwithmeatNarrative,I—”
“Harper!”
ThelastvoiceIwouldliketohearrightnowisCosmo’s,butofcoursehe’sbarrelingovertous,beamingatmelikeanoldfriend.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”heasks,stoppingbesideusbeforecheckinghiswatchandlettingoutaforcedlaugh.“Theonetimeyou’reearlyforworkandyoudon’tworkhereanymore.Classic!”
“Hi,Cosmo,”Isaywarily.“I’mhereto…uh…seeRyan.”
“Fantastic!Ihopeyou’reindiscussionstoworkonanotherpieceforus.Anyideasyouhave,sendthemovertoRyanhere—”heslapsRyanontheback,causinghimtoflinch“—andI’msurewecangetthemin,noproblem!”
“I’mquitebusynow,so—”
“Ohyes,thepodcast.Excellentstuff.Anyfreelancefeatures,though,sendthemourway.Wepaycompetitively,asyouknow,andwecouldusesomecelebrityangles.”Heseessomeonebehindmeandgrimaces.“Ihavetogo.Rebeccaisoverthereandwehaveapublishersmeetinginaminute.Nicetoseeyou,Harper,andremember,we’dlovetohaveyouwritingforusagain.Nameyourprice.”
Hescurriesofftowardasmartlydressedwomanstandingbythebuildingwhowaveshimover,asternexpressiononherface.
“Ican’tbelievehim,”Iutter,watchinghimgo.
“He’sapieceofwork,”Ryanagrees,lookingirritated.
“Hereallyis.Theyneedtogiveyouhisjob.ASAP.”
Thecornersofhislipstwitch.“Whatwereyousayingbeforeheinterrupted?SinceIstartedworkingwithyouatNarrative,”heprompts,hisgazefixedonme.
“Yes,thatwasit.Okay,sinceyoustartedworkingwithmeatNarrative,Ihavehadcertainfeelingstowardyou.Strongones,”Iadmit,mycheeksburning.“Atfirst,Ithoughttheywerefeelingsofdislikebecause,youknow,weclashedquiteabitandyou’reanightmareforsomeonelikemetoworkwithandbecauseofourhistory—itwasabigjumbleofirritationinmyhead.”
“Okay,”hesaysslowly.
“ButthenIrealized,theyweren’tfeelingsofdislike,theyweretheopposite,”Iexplainnervously.“Yousaidthatyouwerecrazyaboutme,rightfromthestart.Well,IthinkI’vebeencrazyaboutyou,too.AndIknowI’mcrazyaboutyounow.Ihavemissedyousomuch.Wheneverythingwasawful,Iwantedyouthere.Andnowthateverything’sfinallylookingup,Iwantyouthere.Iwantyouallthetime,tobetherethrougheverything.You’rethemostthoughtful,lovely,bestpersonI’veevermet.”Ihesitate,beforeadding,“AndIloveyou.”
Because,hey,mightaswellbecompletelyhonest.
Hislipspartinsurprise.He’sabouttosaysomethingwhenthatmostunwelcomeofvoicescomesboomingatusonceagain.
“Ryan!”Cosmocallsout,approachingusspeedily.“Sorrytointerrupt,butRebeccawouldlikeyoutojoinusinthemeetingaswell.I’vesaidyou’rebusytalkingtooneofourstarfreelancewriters—”hewinksatme“—butshe’sinsisting.Shewantstoknowaboutthe…directionofthemagazine.”
“Ican’t,”Ryansaysfirmly.“We’reinthemiddleofanimportantconversation.”
“Ah,I’mafraidIhavetoinsist,”Cosmopresses,suckingastreamofairinthroughhisteeth.“PerhapsHarperwouldbehappytorearrange.Infact,howaboutwetakeyouforlunch,Harper,eh?Wecandiscussfreshideas!”
“That’sokay,thanks,”Isay,horrified,beforeturningtoRyanwithanencouragingsmile.“Youshouldgo.Don’tworryaboutit.”
“No,wewere…weneedtotalk,”hesays,hiseyeswidewithpanic.
“It’sfine,honestly.Thismeetingsoundsimportantforthemagazine;youshouldn’tmissit.Wecantalklater.”
“But—”
“It’sokay,”Iassurehim.“Goahead.”
Helooksvisiblydistressed,butCosmodoesn’tnotice.
“Thereyougo,we’llrearrange.Comeon,Ryan,can’tkeepthemwaiting.”
“Harper,we’ll…we’lltalk,”RyanpromisesasCosmourgeshimtogo.
“Yeah.”
Theyheadtowardthebuilding,andIturntoseeRyanglancingoverhisshoulderatme.Isuddenlyremembersomethingimportant.
“Ryan!”Icalloutafterhim,andheimmediatelystopsandwaitsasIhurryovertohim,CosmonervouslyholdingupafingertoRebecca,whoisstandingbythedoor,pointedlytappingherwatch.Iholdoutthetotebagthat’sbeenhangingoffmyshoulderthiswholetime
“Here,”Isay,givingittoRyan.“Almostforgot.Thisisforyou.Goodluckinyourmeeting.”
“Howlovely,agift!”Cosmodeclares,beforetakingRyan’selbowandleadinghimaway.“Thankyou,Harper,andspeaksoontosortthatlunch.”
Iturnaroundandstartmakingmywayhome.
Hedoesn’tcallme.Ormessageme.Thewholeday.Zilch.
ItoldhimIlovedhim!DoeshethinkIdothateveryday?!Icertainlydonot!Andhethinksit’sacceptablebehaviortoleavesomeoneinthelurchafterthey’vepouredouttheirheart?Well.Iguessthatshowswhatkindofpersonheisafterall.
I’mnotmessaginghim,obviously.I’vealreadysaidmypiece.Igetthatitwasquitealottothrowathimbeforeeighto’clockinthemorning,buthe’shadtheentiredaytothinkonitandgetbacktome,andIhaven’theardapeepoutofhim.I’mnotexpectinghimtosayitbackoranything.Igetthatwehadabigfalling-outandmaybehe’sstillcrossormaybehethinkswehadourchance—twice—anditdidn’tworkthen,soit’snotgoingtonow.That’sfine.
ButhestillneedstoacknowledgewhatIsaid.
I’vebeentryingtostaybusysoIdon’tcheckmyphoneeveryfewseconds,butthat’snoteasywhenyou’velaunchedahighlysuccessfulpodcastandyourphoneisbuzzingallthetimewithemailsandnotifications.Everytimeitgoesoff,Igrabforit,desperateforhisnametocomeuponthescreen,andyouknowwhat?It’sneverhim.
Noamountofworkcandistractmefromthinkingaboutthismorningandthebutterfliesdancingaroundinmystomach.Nothearingfromhimcan’tbegoodnews,though,canit?Surely,he’dhavebeenintouchbynowifhefeltthesame.Instead,he’sprobablywritinganessayinhisnotesapp,tryingtoworkoutawaytoletmedowngently.
ItdidoccurtomethatIhaveamoleinsidetheofficeintheformofMimi,soIcouldaskhowhe’sbehavingtotrytoworkoutwhat’sgoingon,butIwastooembarrassedtotellherwhatIsaidtohim.IfIhaven’theardfromhimbytheendoftoday,thenIwillcallherandexplaineverythingandshecangivemesomeadviceonwhattodo.
Fornow,it’sjustmeinthis.
TuckingmyphoneundermypillowsoIcan’tlookatitanymorethisevening,IcometothedisappointingconclusionthatIcouldtidyup.It’sadrasticidea,butIcanblaremusicwhileIdoitsomythoughtsaredrownedoutanditwilltakealongtime,whichisexactlywhatIneed.
AsIstartthesoul-destroyingjobofunloadingandthenreloadingthedishwashertoamotivatingplaylistofQueen’sgreatesthitsplayingfromYouTubeontheTV,Istarttounderstandwhypeoplerecommendcleaningasyougoalong.Thereisamountainofworkaheadofmetonight.Singingalongto“RadioGaGa”asIscrubthesink,Ipraisemyselfonthrowingmyselfintobeingaresponsibleadulttonightandcleaningthehouseratherthanseeingifanyonewasaroundtogoforadrink.
IstopwhatI’mdoingasIrealizethatseeingifanyonewasaroundtogoforadrinkwouldhavebeenamuchbetterideaandI’macompleteidiot.
Mydoorbellrings.ThatwillbethedeliveryofsomenewbooksIorderedthisweek.
Butit’snot.It’sRyan.
“Hi,”hesays,hiseyesimmediatelylandingonthebottleofsurfacecleanerandtheclothI’mholding.“Areyoucleaning?”
“Yes,”Ireplydefensively.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Iwantedtofinishourchatfromearlier.MayIcomein?”
“You’vetakenyourtimegettingbacktome.Yousaidwe’dtalk,andthenIdidn’thearfromyouallday.”
“I’msorry,butIthoughtitbesttotalkinpersonaboutthis.”
“HowdidyouknowIwasgoingtobein?”
“Itookmychances.”
“YoucouldhavemessagedsoIknewyou’dbecomingover,”Ipointoutindignantly.
“Idid!”heprotests.
“No,youdidnot!”Isay,aghastattheverycheekofit.
Herollshiseyes.“Checkyourphone.”
“I’vebeencheckingit.”
Hesighs.“CanIpleasecomein?I’dreallyliketotalktoyouintheflatratherthaninthedoorway.”
“Fine,”Isay,takingastepback.
HewandersinwiththetotebagIgavehimthismorningslungroundhisshoulder,admiringthelackofusualcluttercoveringthetable,thecleancounters,andtheshinysink.Queenisstillplayingatahighvolumeand“CrazyLittleThingCalledLove”hascomeon.Ittakesmeawhiletolocatetheremotetoturnitdownabit.
“Youreallymessagedme?”Iaskhim.
“Yes.”
Leavinghiminthekitchen,Iheadtothebedroomandreachunderthepillowformyphone.Lookingatthemessages,IfindastringofthemfromRyan.HemusthavesentthemjustafterIhidmyphonefrommyself.Typical.
Thefirstoneishimaskingifhecancomeoverafterwork,followedbypracticallyanessay.Itakeamomenttoreaditbeforejoininghiminthekitchen:
Harper,IoweyouanapologyforhowIhandledthedaysleadinguptoyourredundancy.I’msosorry.IneedyoutoknowthatallIwantedwastoprotectusandIhatedtheideaofhurtingyou.Iwantedtodothingsdifferentlythistimeround…Icouldn’tactnormalwiththisknowledgehangingovermyhead.That’swhatIdidlasttimeandIlostyou.IfiguredIwasdoingthebestthingbystayingdistantuntilyouwereinformedandwecouldtalkitallthrough,butIrealizenowthatavoidingyouhurtyouevenmore…anditendeduphurtingusevenmore,too.IwishIcouldgobackintimeandchangemybehavior,butsinceIcan’t,pleaseknowthatIamtrulysorryandwilldoeverythinginmypowertomakeituptoyou,ifyou’llletme.
Aftereverythingyousaidthismorning,I’mreallyhopingyouwillletme.
I’monmywaytoyounowXxx
Ireadhismessagesafewtimes,takingitallin,andthen,composingmyself,returntofindhimwaitingformeinthekitchen.
“Theplacelooksgreat,”hecomments.
“Youmessagedanhourago,”Inote,puttingmyphoneonthetable.“Thatstillmeansyouleftmewaitingalldaytohearfromyou.”
“I’msorry,Harper,Ihadsomanymeetings,andIwastryingtofigureoutwhattosaytoyouonthephoneandIknewIhadtoapologizeproperly,soIrambledoninaWhatsAppbeforerealizingitwouldbebettertocomeseeyouinperson.ButIshouldhaveworkedthatoutsoonerandmessagedyouearlier.It’sjust—theofficeisprettystressfulatthemoment,nowthatwe’rethreepeopledown.Idon’tknowhowwe’regoingtomakeitwork.”
Icrossmyarms.“I’mnotsureIhavethatmuchsympathyforyouthere.”
“Right.”Henods.“Anyway,aboutthismorning.”
HeputsthebagonthetableandslidesoutthegiftIgavehim.It’stheMaxSj?bergarticlewewrotetogether,andit’sframed.Ididn’thavetimetogetitdoneproperly.IputittogetherinarushlastnightafterIgotbackfromdinnerwithMimi.Ihadtosearcharoundallmypicturesintheflattofindaframethatwouldfitthearticle.IfoundablackonethatusedtohouseaveryprettyprintIboughtfromtheSaturdaymarketinHerneHillandswappedthearticleintoit.
“Thankyouforthis,”Ryansays,holdingitoutandgazingdownatit.“Oursecondeverbylinetogether.I’llhavetohangitnexttoourfirst.Iwouldsaythatmaybetherewillbeplentymoretocome,butI’mnotsosureofthat,nowthatyou’reafamouspodcasthost.”
Ilookdownmodestly.“I’veonlydoneoneepisode.”
“Andit’salreadytopofthecharts.Iwouldn’texpectanythingless,”hesays,puttingtheframedownonthetable.“I’msorrythatCosmointerruptedusthismorningandthatIhadtogotothatmeeting.IthoughtaboutquittingonthespotjustsoI’dhavethechancetogoafteryou.”
Iraisemyeyebrowsathim.“Thatwouldhavebeenanextremeaction.”
“Somemomentsdeserveextremeaction,”hestatesfirmly.
“Iwouldn’thaveapproved,”Isay,unabletostopasmile.“Ifyouweregoingtoquitallalong,thentheleastyoucouldhavedonewasacceptedvoluntaryredundancyandletmekeepmypositionthere.”
Asmileplaysalonghislips.
“Andifthathadhappened,youwouldhavebeenunderCosmo’srepressiveruleforevenlonger,andyouhavesufferedthatlongenough.Lookwhatyoucanachievewhenyoudoyourownthing.”
Ishrug.“Maybeithasworkedoutforthebetter.”
“Maybe?”Hechuckles,hisexpressionsofteningasherelaxesintothesmile.“You’reontheedgeofsomethingbig,Harper.Thatmuchisclear.”
“Ihopeso.Iguesswe’llsee.”
Hestaresatmeintently.“Didyoumeanwhatyousaidthismorning?”
“Aboutyoubeinganightmareforsomeonelikemetoworkwith?Yes.”
“Ialreadyknewaboutthatbit,”hesays,rollinghiseyes.“Fortherecord,you’reamuchworsecolleague.Doyouknowhowannoyingitistoworkwithaneditorwhodoesn’tkeepascheduleofpublicationdatesfortheirfeatures?”
Itapthesideofmyhead.“Idon’tneedaschedule.It’salluphere.”
“It’snotupthere,”hesaysmatter-of-factly.“Youhadnoideawhenanyofyourarticleswerecomingout.Andlet’snotgetstartedonthoseemailchainsIaskedyoutoforwardtomebeforeyouleft.”
“AsItoldyou,myinboxmusthaveswallowedthem.Theremusthavebeenatechnicalglitch,”Iproclaiminnocently.
Hegivesmeaknowinglook.“Youcouldn’tfindthembecauseyouneverfileanyofyouremailsintofoldersandyourinboxisfloodedwiththousandsofunreadmessages.”
“MyinboxisorganizedinthewaythatIpreferit,Ryan.IknowwhoI’mtalkingtoandwhereIneedtobeatalltimes.”
“Youforgotaboutthedinnerwithyourparents,didn’tyou?Thenightyouhadthatawardsceremonythatyou’dalsoobviouslyforgottenabout.”
“Maybe.”Ieyehimsuspiciously.“Howdidyouknow?”
“Because,”hebegins,asmilecreepingacrosshislips,“Iknowyou.”
Iswallow,meltingunderhisdotinggaze.“Iguessyoudo.”
“Ido.AndIloveeverythingaboutyou.”
“Youdo?”Iwhisper,hardlydaringtobreathe.
“Yes,”hesayssofter,movingslowlytowardme.“Everything.Eventhethingsthatdrivemeupthewall.Yourmessiness,yourinfuriatingorganizationalstyle,yourshockingtimekeepingskills,yourstubborninabilitytobackdownwheneverweargue.”
“Youknowme.Iliketohavethelastword,”Isay,ashestopsrightinfrontofme.
Hepauses,waitingformetoliftmyheadandbringmyeyesuptomeethis.“Harper,Iloveyou.AndI’mnevergoingtoloseyouagain.”
Cuppingmyfaceinhissoft,warmhands,heleansdownandkissesme.
AndasIkisshimback,pullinghimclosertowardme,Ican’thelpbutsmileagainsthismouth.Becauseatlastweagreeonsomething.EPILOGUE
ONEYEARLATER
Ryanisgettingimpatient.
He’stryingnotto,butIknowthatI’mwearinghimdownbecausethelinesonhisforeheadaregettingdeeper,andeverytimeIflypasthiminawhirlwindofstress,hewatchesmewithnarrowingeyes.
“Harper,”hegrowls,hisphonevibratinginhishand,“thedriverisgoingtocancelthetripunlessweleavethehousenow.”
“Justtellhimwe’llbeonemoreminute!”
“Ialreadytoldhimthatthreeminutesago.”
“Tellhimagain.”
Hesighs,rubbinghisforehead.“IsthereanythingIcandotohelpspeedupthisprocess?”
“Yes,youcanleavemebeandgotelltheUberdriverwe’llbeonemoreminute.”
Mutteringsomethinginaudibleunderhisbreath,heleavestheflatwithhisbagintowand,whileIlocatemyphonechargerinapluginthesittingroom,Ihearthemuffledsoundoftheirconversationthroughthewindows.Dartingintothebedroom,IthrowmychargerintothewheeliecasethatRyanboughtmeafewmonthsagowhentheshoulderstraponmyoldweekendbagbrokeandhecouldn’thandlethefactthatIhappilytiedaknotinthestrapandcarriedonusingthebag.
IhearthefrontdooropenasRyanreturns,andI’mjustabouttozipupmybagwhenIrememberIhaven’tpackedmywedges.Ifindonelurkingatthebottomofmywardrobe,buttheotheronehassomehowdisappeared.HoldingtheoneIhavesafelyinmyhandsoIdon’tlosethatone,too,duringthesearch—apickleI’vebeenknowntogetmyselfintobefore—Igetonmykneesandstarttearingthroughthebottomofbothsidesofthewardrobe,sendingshoesflyinginalldirections.
“Areyoulookingforthis?”Ryansaysbehindme.
Iturnroundtoseehimstandingbythebed,themissingshoedanglingfromhisforefingerbytheanklestrap.
“Youfoundit!”Iexclaimbrightly,jumpingtomyfeetandtakingitfromhimbeforesquishingthepairofshoesintomycase.“Wherewasit?”
“Underthebed,whereallyourmissingshoescanbelocated.Ifyoudidn’tkickyourshoesoffandthenleavethemwherevertheyland,fewermightenduplostunderthere.”
“Youhavebeenextremelyhelpful,thankyou,”Isay,shuttingmycaseandleaningforwardontopofittodoupthezip.“Iamofficiallyreadytogo.”
“Finally,”hesayswithagrin,liftingthecaseoffthebedandmakingseveralunnecessaryremarksabouthowheavyitisashelugsittothecarwaitingoutsidewhileIlockup.
Afewmonthsafterwedeclaredourloveforeachother,Ryanmovedintomyflat.Itwasquitefast,butwefiguredwe’dknowneachotherlongenough,andtheconstanttrekkingbetweenNorthandSouthLondonwasgettingtiresome.AlthoughRyan’sflatwasmuchnicerthanmine,Ireallydidn’twanttoliveinNorthLondonagain,soRyanagreedthathe’drelocatesouthoftheriver.It’sabitofasqueezewithtwoofus,butRyan’ssotidy,there’snottoomuchencroaching.We’recurrentlyinthemarketforsomewheretobuy—Ryaninsistsithastobeatwo-bedroom,evenifthatmeansmovingfartherout,becausehesaysthatmymessismakinghimgograyearlyandhewantsmywardrobeinaseparateroomtoourbedroom.
IammuchtidiernowthatIlivewithacleanlinessdictator.OnepotoutofplaceinthekitchenandIsufferlecturesforaweek.I’vebeenbannedaltogetherfromattemptingtoloadthedishwasher,which,Iwon’tlie,isfinebyme.
Onthewaytotheairport,IsmiletomyselfatRyandouble-checkinghe’sgotourpassports,eventhoughhe’scheckedseveraltimessincewesetoff.
“What?”heasks,whenhecatchesmesmirking.
“Nothing.I’mexcitedforStockholm.”
“Metoo,”hesayshappily,reachingovertosqueezemyhand,histhumbbrushinglightlyoverthetopofthediamondringsittingonmylefthand.
Threeweeksago,RyansuggestedapicnicinGreenwichPark.Ithoughtitwasarandombutlovelyideaanddidn’tthinkanythingelseaboutit.Itseemedabitstrangethathewantedtogointheevening,buthesaidthatway,itwouldn’tbetoocrowded.
Oncewegotthere,Iwashappytositanywheretherewasaspaceanddigintothefoodhe’dplacedverycarefullyinahamper,somethingIgleefullytookthepissoutofhimfor(mypicnicstyleistobuyfoodonthewayandthrowithaphazardlyinashoppingbag).ButRyaninsistedwekeepwalkingtotheverytopofthehill,andittookmeawhiletorealizethathewasaimingfortheexactspotwe’dsatinmanyyearsago,twointernsatthestartoftheircareer,lookingoutattheviewofthecity.
Whenwe’dsatdownontheblankethe’dbroughtwithhim(adorable;Iusuallyplonkedmyselfonmyjacketorputupwiththegrass),hepulledoutabottleofchampagneandcrackeditopen,pouringusbothaglass.Itdidn’tevenclickthen.Ijustthoughthewasbeingabitextra.Butthenhesaidthathe’dchosenthisspotspecificallybecauseitwas,heconsiders,wherewehadoursort-offirstdateandthemomentwhen,thankstoouralmostfirstkiss,hewasfilledwithhopethathemighthaveachancewithme,thegirlheknewwithcertaintyhewouldalwayslove.
Hegotaboxoutofhispocket,anditfeltliketherestoftheworlddisappearedasheswiftlymaneuveredfromsittingontheblankettobeingononekneeinfrontofme.
ItwastheeasiestanswerI’veeverhadtogive.
Mimihelpedhimpickthering,herevealed,andsheandKatyawerethefirstpeopleIcalledtotellthenewsthenextday.Theyscreamedwithjoyasthoughitwasahugesurprise,andMimiimmediatelysetaboutplanningacelebratorydinnerforus.BeingmybestfriendandRyan’scolleague—nottomention,instrumentalingettingustogetherinFlorence—sheismaidofhonorandisnottakingthosedutieslightly.We’rethinkingofdoingasmallweddingabroadandsheemailsmeatleastthreeorfourtimesaweekwithdifferentlocationideasandbeautifulvenues.
Florenceistheleadingcontender.
AftertellingMimithenews,nextwevideo-calledRyan’sparentstoletthemknow,andtheystartedjumpingupanddown.PoorSullyhadnoideawhatwasgoingonandburstintocelebratoryzoomies,boundingacrossthesofasandknockingoveralamp.
TheStockholmtripwastheiridea,asFredrikwantedtointroducemetohissideofthefamily.RyanandIaregoingforafullweekwherewe’llspendthefirstfewdaysjustussowehavesometimealoneandhecanshowmearoundthecity—strictlynoworkingallowedduringthisperiod(hisrule)—andthenthelastfewdays,hisparentsarecomingtojoinusandwe’llmeetthefamily.I’mnervousbecauseIwanttoimpressthem,butifthey’reanythinglikeFredrik,IknowIwon’thavetoworry.I’veneverfeltsowelcomeanywhereasIdowhenwegotovisittheminManchester.
I’vefinallygotthefamilyIalwayswanted.
ThingswithJulietaregoingwell,andshe’smuchmoreapartofmylifenow.Ittookusawhiletogetintoarhythm,startingwithlunchesanddinnershereandthere,gettingtoknoweachotheronceagain.Wehadalotofyearstocatchupon.She’sthrilledaboutourengagementandhasmetRyanafewtimes,whichmeansalottome.Havingfound
MumandDadareaworkinprogressforbothofus.Julietisintentonmakingitworkwiththem,whileI’mhappiertoletitgo.Butshekeepssaying“familyisfamily,”andatChristmasweallagreedtoourfirstgatheringsincethatsummerdinnerwhereeverythingfellapart.Notthatithadeverreallybeentogetherinthefirstplace.
ThedinnerwasstiltedandforcedandIwassogratefultohaveRyanwithme.Somehowithelpedhavingsomeonefromoutsidethefamilypresent,and,asIshouldhaveguessed,myparentstooktohim.TheyhadobviouslyGoogledhimbeforethedinner,andsomeofhispieceshadimpressedthem—theymadeapointofbringingupcertaintopicsthathe’dwrittenaboutandaskinghimquestionsaboutthem.
Theyevenadmittedthatmypodcastwasasuccess,despite“notbeingintothatsortofthing.”Ryantookgreatpainstotellthemhowthefirstserieshadtoppedthechartsandbeennominatedforseveralawardsatthetime,twoofwhich—“BestNewPodcast”and“BestArtsandCulturePodcast”—Iwentontowin.MyparentslistenedtoRyan’sravingaboutmyachievementsandpolitelywishedmeluck.
TheirefforttowardRyanwas,Julietbelieves,theirversionofanolivebranch.ThiswasfurtherconfirmedinhermindwhenDademailedusbothafterwardtothankJulietfororganizingthe“pleasant”eveningandsuggestschedulingthenextdatefordinnerwithusandRyan.Butwestillhaven’tspokenaboutwhatIsaidthatnight,andtheystillhaven’tapologizedforanything.I’veacceptedthattheyneverwill.
Julietishopeful,though,thatthingswillimprove,forherselfasmuchasforme.Theystillhaven’tshownmuchofaninterestinherjobandcontinuetomakedisparagingcommentsabouthercareerpivot,whichIknowhurtsher.I’mstillnotsurewhetherwe’llinvitethemtothewedding.Butwhateverhappenswithmyparents,I’llbeokay.IhaveMimiandIgotmysisterback.AndnowIhaveRyan.
IhaveallIneed.
Nottomention,workisgoingverywell.ThepodcastcontinuestosoarandIhaveincredibleguestslinedupforthethirdseries,includingAudreyAbbot,whowillbespeakingtomeabouthersoon-to-be-releasedmemoirsandpromotingthenewLondonshowshe’sdirecting—anall-femaleproductionofMuchAdoAboutNothingattheNationalTheatre.I’mstillwriting,too,onafreelancebasisnow.I’vewrittenalotforRakheeatSleekandhaveformedsomeexcellentrelationshipswiththeeditorsofotherleadingpublications—myworkhasbeenpublishedinVogue,andI’vejustfiledmyfirstpieceforTIMEmagazine.IhaveturneddownanycommissionsfromCosmoChambers-SmythatNarrative,althoughwordonthestreetisthathewon’tbetheremuchlongerifthepublishershavetheirway.IhaveafeelingIknowwhothenexteditormightbe,althoughthecandidateIhaveinmindwillhavetojugglehisnewresponsibilitieswithmeetingthedemandsofthebookdealherecentlyclinched.
Ihavenodoubthecanhandleit.
Thesuccessofthepodcastundoubtedlygavemeaconfidenceboost,butI’vealsobeenworkingonanotherprojectthatI’mprettyexcitedabout.AfterleavingtheconstraintsofthepowersthatbeatNarrativeandfinallyshruggingofftheburdensomeweightofmyparents’opinion,Irealizedthatmyworkcouldhelpothersaspiringtocareersthatmightseemoutofreach.SoIsetaboutplanningandeditingabookthatwillbeacollectionofstoriesfromwomeninthearts—it’salaborofloveandwilltakeawhiletocollate.I’mselectingandinterviewingwomenfromallwalksoflifeworkinginvaryingculturalendeavors—film,TV,theater,music,publishing,galleries—andwithalltypesofjobtitles,whetherthey’restarsoftheshoworunsungheroesbehindthescenes.OnceIinterviewthemabouthowtheygottowheretheyare,whatchallengestheyovercame,andwhatadvicethey’dgivetoothershopingtofollowintheirfootsteps,Iwriteuptheirchapterinthefirst-personnarrative,doingmybesttocapturetheirvoice.I’vealreadytestedthewaterswithpublishersandseveralhavecomebacktorequestameetingtodiscussitspotential.Acoupleofthemhavealreadyexpressedtheirhopesthatitcouldevenbeaseries.
IhateforRyanandMimitohavebeenrightallalong,butitturnsoutthattheredundancywasashake-upthathelpedmeafterall—I’mproudofwhatI’mdoingandI’mexcitedforwhatevercomesnext.
Whenwearriveattheairport,RyanscreenshotsmyboardingpassandsendsittomesoIhaveitonmyphonetogothroughthebarrierstojointhesecurityqueue.Wheelingmycasebehindme,Igetthepassuponmyphoneandthenstopinmytracks.
“Hangon.Theflightisn’tuntilmidday.”
“Yes,that’sright,”herepliescoolly,encouragingmetocarryonwalking.
“Yousaiditwasateleven.”
Hesmilessmugly.“Idid.”
“Whydidyousaythat?”
“Togetyououtofthehouseontime.”
“Ryan!”Ilookathimincredulously.“Youliedtome!”
“Itoldalittlewhitelietomakesurewegottotheairportearly,whichiswhatyou’resupposedtodobeforeaninternationalflight,”heexplainswithoutahintofremorse.“Iftheflightwasreallyateleven,thenwe’donlybehereanhourandfifteenminutesbeforetakeoff,whichismuchtoolate.”
“Thatistheperfectamountoftime!”Iargue.
“Theairlinerecommendstwohours.”
Ithrowmyhandsupintheair.“Whoarrivesattheairporttwohoursbeforetheirflight?”
“Smart,organized,happypeople.We’llhavenostressorrushinggettingtothegate.Wecanenjoyadrinkbeforehand.Thisisthewaytodoit,trustme,”hesayscheerily,strollingtowardsecurity.
“Ican’tbelievethis,”Igrumble,stompingbehindhimanddraggingmybagbehindme.“Youmademerusharoundgettingreadythismorningfornoreason!”
“Webothknowyouwouldhavestillbeenrushingaroundgettingreadythismorning,evenifyou’dhadtheextrahour.Nothingwouldhavebeendifferent.”
“Thatisnottrue!Iwouldhavehadaluxurioustimegettingthingspacked,”Icounter.
“Nowyoucanhavealuxurioustimewaltzingaroundtheterminalwithnopanicaboutmissingtheflight.”
“That’sthelasttimeyou’llfoolme.Fromnowon,I’minchargeofbookingflightssotherewon’tbeanychanceofyoupullingthewoolovermyeyesagain.”
Hesighs,turningbacktostopmeandwrappinghishandsaroundmywaist.
“IthinkfromourPragueexperiencewebothknowthatit’snotagoodideaforyoutotakechargeoftravelplans,wouldn’tyouagree?”
Iblushatthememory,beforestubbornlysaying,“Istillmaintainthatthehotelgotthedatesofourstaywrong,notme.”
“Noquestion.”Hegrins,dippinghisheadandkissingmeonthecheek.“Eventhoughyourbookingconfirmationstatedthesamedatesthehotelhad,itmakesmuchmoresensethattheyweresomehowatfault.”
Iexhaleashislipsbrushalongmycheekbone,sinkingintohimasheholdsmeclose.It’sverydifficulttoarguewithhimwhenhedoesthis.Mybrainiscompromisedandmylineofthinkingbecomesscrambledduetotheflutteringdeepwithinmystomach.
“Allright,”Isay,unabletofightasmile,“youcanbeinchargeoftravelplans.ButIgettobeinchargeoftravelsnacks.”
“Thatseemsfair,”hemurmursagainstmyskin,hishandspressedagainstthesmallofmybacksothatIarchintohimashislipsmaketheirwaytomine.Hekissesme,along,deepkissthatdrownsoutthehubbuboftheairportsurroundingus,beforepressinghisforeheadagainstmineandgivingmeoneofthoseknowingsmilesofhis.
“Ithoughtyouwantedtogetthroughsecurityforaluxuriouscoupleofhourswaltzingaroundtheterminal,”Isay,closingmyeyesandgrinning.
“Norush,”hesays,findingmyhandsandthreadinghisfingersthroughmine.“Wehaveallthetimeintheworld.”
Idon’tusuallyletRyanhavethelastword.Butasheleansinforanotherkiss,IdecidethatImightjustlethimhavethisone.ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Hugethankstomywonderfuleditors,KimandSarah,foryourcreativity,guidance,andexcellentsensesofhumor.Workingonthisbookwithyoubothwas,asever,somuchfun,andI’mverygratefultoyouforbelievinginHarperandRyan.You’rethebest,thankyou.
ThankyoutoAmy,Olivia,Jenny,Rebecca,Drue,Marissa,Kejana,Mary,andthetalentedteamsatHodder&StoughtonandSt.Martin’sPress.Thankyouforeverythingyou’vedonetomakemybooktentimesbetterthanitwasandforgettingitoutintotheworld.
Thankstomyfabulousagent,Lauren;totheamazingJustine,Julie,andPaul,whosteppedintohelpwiththisproject;andtoeveryoneatBellLomaxMoretonforalwayscheeringmeon.
Tomyfamilyandfriends,thankyouforyourcontinuedencouragement—Icouldn’tdoanyofthiswithoutyou.SpecialthankstoBenforyourunwaveringsupportandformakingmehotchocolatetokeepmegoingthroughlatenightswriting,andtomyloyalandlovingdog,Bon,whosnoozesatmyfeetwhileIworkandneverfailstoputasmileonmyface
And,finally,ahugethank-youtoeveryonewhotakesthetimetoreadmybooks.Iwritestorieslikethisoneinthehopeofbringingsomejoytoyourdayandmakingyoulaugh,sofingerscrosseditdoesjustthat.ALSOBYKATYBIRCHALL
TheWeddingSeason
TheSecretBridesmaid
JaneAusten’sEmma(AwesomelyAusten—IllustratedandRetold)
MorganCharmley:TeenWitch
HotelRoyale:DramasofaTeenageHeiress
HotelRoyale:SecretsofaTeenageHeiress
SuperstarGeek
TeamAwkward
Don’tTelltheBridesmaid
HowtoBeaPrincessPraiseforTHEWEDDINGSEASON
“Birchallmanagestodesignacheersquadoffullysupportivechumsandasexy,sensitiveloveinterestinthiswitty,relatabletalethatdoesn’tfallpreytothetriterom-comformulayoumaybeexpecting.”
—USAToday
“Birchallstrikesgoldwiththecomediccadenceofherproseandbalancesthehumorwithherwinningheroine’ssincereeffortstofindherinnerstrength.Thisisasnappy,empoweringpickforfansofSophieKinsella.”
—PublishersWeekly
“Afast-paced,well-writtenstory…therealHEAendingisFreya’srealizationthatbeingjiltedwasabeginning,notanend.”
—LibraryJournal
“TheWeddingSeasonistheperfectantidotetorecentstressfultimes;likeaglassofprosecco,it’sbubbly,fun,andoverwaytoofast.”
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“Fun,hilarious,andheartwarming,TheWeddingSeasonislikeagianthugforanyonewhohasfacedthechallengeofafailedrelationship.Withastellarcastofloyalfriends,quirkyfamilymembers,andawackyplantogetthroughtheweddingseason,thisbookhadmelaughing,cryinghappytears,andturningpageslateintothenight.”
—SaraDesai,authorofTheSinglesTable
“AnutterlycharmingstoryaboutwhattodowhenlifehandsyouSomethingBlue:turnitintoSomethingNew.TheWeddingSeasonisexactlywhatIneededtoreadrightnow.”
—JuliaWhelan,authorofMyOxfordYear
“IadoredTheWeddingSeason!Itswitmademelaugh,itsrelatabilitymademecry,anditsdeliciousslow-burnromancehadmeswooning.Ican’twaittoreadwhatBirchallwritesnext.”
—LacieWaldon,authorofTheLayover
PraiseforTHESECRETBRIDESMAID
“Apuredelight.”
—BookPage(starredreview)
“Aunique,hilariousspinonweddingmayhem.Birchallpaysjustasmuchattentiontothecomplexnuancesoffemalefriendshipastothehealingpoweroflove,resultinginanentertainingromp.”
—PublishersWeekly
“Withadelightfullypluckyheroineandlaugh-out-loudhijinks,TheSecretBridesmaidgivestheweddingrom-comamuch-neededupdate:focusingonthefriendshipsbetweenwomenasmuchastheromance.Charming,escapistfun.”
—KatharineMcGee,NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthorofAmericanRoyals
“Thislaugh-out-loudfunnyrom-comprovidesthecheeryescapismweallneedthesedays.Charming,hopeful,andswoon-worthyenoughtosweepeventhemostlevel-headedreaderofftheirfeet.”
—HannahOrenstein,authorofMeanttoBeMine
“Hilariousandheartwarming—theperfectweddingseasonread.”
—HeidiSwain,SundayTimesbestsellingauthorABOUTTHEAUTHOR
KATYBIRCHALListheauthorofTheLastWord,TheWeddingSeason,andTheSecretBridesmaidaswellasnumerousbooksforyoungreaders.TheformerdeputyfeatureseditorforCountryLifemagazine,sheisalsoafreelancejournalist.ShelivesinLondonwithherhusband,Ben,andtheircorgi-crossrescuedog,Bono.Youcansignupforemailupdateshere
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Foremailupdatesontheauthor,clickhereCONTENTS
TitlePage
CopyrightNotice
Dedication
Prologue
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
AlsoByKatyBirchall
PraisePage
AbouttheAuthor
CopyrightThisisaworkoffiction.Allofthecharacters,organizations,andeventsportrayedinthisnovelareeither
© Copyright Notice
The copyright of the article belongs to the author. Please do not reprint without permission.
THE END
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