Good for You: A Novel (61)

“It’s not—she left the magazine.”

“After being named editor in chief? Is she insane?”

“Probably,” concluded Aly. It was unlikely Meagan’s departure meant Aly could have her job back—Innovate clearly wanted her elsewhere—but she might ask for it anyway. That was, if she said no to Meagan. “She’s starting a company that will create custom magazines for major companies. No ads, just big budgets and freedom. Or so she says. She wants to make me editor in chief of the whole operation.”

“Is that some backward sort of apology? Because you do know she’s only asking you to do this because she doesn’t know how to do her job without you, right?”

Aly laughed. “You sound like Wyatt.”

“I knew I liked him,” said Harry with a dazzling smile. Then his face grew serious. “What do you want to do, Al?”

The easy thing would be to take the gig at All Good as editorial director—or even the one that Meagan had offered. But want? The only thing Aly really wanted to do right now was . . . nothing.

Which was a bit alarming—it was almost as though her affair with Wyatt had sapped her of her ambition. And who was she without that?

Harry picked up on the confusion in her silence. “Listen, babe, you don’t have to figure out anything now. But aren’t you glad that you have funds? You’ve been worried about your next career move. Now you can take your time and find something—or maybe even invent something—that’s even better,” he said with a wink.

Aly tried to smile back. The truth was, she didn’t want to go searching for some glittering new endeavor. Hadn’t the past year brought about enough change? And from where she stood, change was just a more palatable word for loss.

“Speaking of work!” said Harry, whose phone had begun buzzing in the diaper bag. “Ugh,” he said, scanning the screen. “This partner is trying to murder me. If I weren’t so intent on taking his place, I’d tell him exactly where to stuff his brief.” He frowned. “Looks like I’ll be glued to my laptop on the car ride back tomorrow. Are you sure you want to go back to work?”

“I guess,” said Aly. She had enjoyed not having to check her work email as soon as she woke up, and again before bed, not to mention all weekend long. Having the time to do normal-people things like read and watch TV—and yes, make love to Wyatt—wasn’t so bad, either. But living that way year-round, or even for the rest of the summer, would make her . . . rudderless. Everyone was put on this planet to do something only they could do, whether it was curing cancer or brightening strangers’ days with a megawatt smile; Aly truly believed that. And she was supposed to be a magazine editor.

Now she just needed to get on board with being a magazine editor’s boss.

“You’re sure you can’t stay longer?” she said to Harry after he’d put his phone back. They were leaving first thing on Sunday, so he could head into the office for a few hours that afternoon. But Aly wasn’t ready for him to go so soon. Or, as she remarked to him, ever.

“I wish I could.” Harry squeezed her arm lightly. “But what if we meet back here at the end of the summer?”

“I don’t hate that idea,” Aly admitted.

“I knew you wouldn’t. And once I make partner, maybe I can buy a cute little place down the road from you.” He’d been on the verge of adding two—the twinkle in his eyes told her as much.

She snorted. “You wish! I’m not sure if I’ll sell or just give it to Wyatt, but I still plan to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Suddenly Wyatt’s endlessly long legs appeared in front of her. He squatted down, but he looked at Harry instead of her. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Course not. Want something cold?” asked Harry, nodding toward the cooler that Tim had packed with sandwiches and drinks.

“Sure,” said Wyatt, but she could sense the carefree attitude he’d had over the past few days was gone. “You want one, Aly?”

The lump in Aly’s throat felt like a large rock. She swallowed hard and forced her lips into a smile. “Yes, thanks,” she said.

He met her eye briefly as he handed her a seltzer, then looked away. He’d obviously overheard her—but why was he being weird about it? She’d never agreed to stay the summer, let alone return regularly. And not once—not even after one of their marathon lovemaking sessions, after oxytocin had snuck in and made her feel all cuddly and couple-y—had she suggested that this thing between them could last. They were just . . . two people who had found a creative way to pass a little bit of time together as they tried to move past an insurmountable loss.

But as he shielded his brow and looked out at the beach, rather than at her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a terrible mistake.

The uneasy sensation only intensified when they got back to the house. Wyatt mumbled about needing to go “take care of something,” then got into his SUV and drove off. Aly pretended that this was business as usual—it was, in a way, even if it did bother her that he still hadn’t told her where he disappeared to. She would have to talk to him about that.

If Harry noticed anything was amiss, he didn’t say. When Wyatt resurfaced a few hours later, he seemed normal again, and even put his hand on Aly’s knee during dinner.