Weather Girl(83)

“We’d always been friendly, but it wasn’t anything more than that until the party,” I say, my voice small and fragile. “We bonded because of you and Seth. Because—because you were so preoccupied with each other that KSEA became such a hostile place to work.”

While she knows this about KSEA, I wish my words sounded less trivial. Less selfish. We may have begun that way, on a mission to make work better for ourselves, but that was before we really knew the Hales. Torrance has become more important to me than I ever imagined, and I don’t want to have betrayed what little trust we had. If I can explain myself, clear my conscience, maybe she’ll understand.

Because it’s not just friendship, this bond between us. She’s slid into something of a mother role for me, and it might have happened even before I started working for her. When my mom was unavailable, Torrance’s show was where I sought comfort. When I was hired at KSEA, I craved her approval—I still do.

More than that, I want her to be happy.

“The reason we started spending time together,” I continue, urging more confidence into my words, “is because at first, we wanted the station to be more peaceful. For everyone. And there were these moments that seemed like you two had unfinished business. That it wasn’t really over. At the holiday party, you talked to me about Seth almost like you missed him. And when he asked you to dance before, well, you know, there was something there. We thought—we thought maybe it wouldn’t be too big of a leap to try to get you back together.”

“The swing dancing at Century Ballroom,” Torrance says, as though it’s starting to click for her. “Was that you?”

Russ nods, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers linked. “It wasn’t anything nefarious. Most of the time, we were just trying to talk to you two. Get to know you better. So there was the swing dancing, the couple’s massage, the yacht—”

“I did wonder how they knew the precise menu of our first date.”

“And that succulent,” I add. “The one that showed up without a card. We . . . wanted you to wonder if Seth sent it.”

I glance over at Seth, who’s still examining Torrance’s books, silent and stoic. He’ll explode any second, I’m sure of it. Or maybe we’ll get another sign: KINDLY REFRAIN FROM MATCHMAKING YOUR EMPLOYER. —SHH.

Torrance purses her cherry-red lips. “I see.” It’s impossible to interpret her expression, and it hits me, then, that I don’t know her well enough to know all her moods yet.

“I’m so sorry. You know I’m grateful for everything. For the mentorship. And I—I’m glad we’ve become friends, even if the way it started was . . .” I grasp for the right word. “Slightly dishonest.”

“And you thought we’d never find out?” she says, a new fierceness in her tone. “You could interfere with our personal lives and get us to tell you deeply private things? Manipulate us like that and face zero consequences?”

Russ tugs at his wrinkled collar. “You’d already brought your personal lives into the office and made them everyone’s business,” he says calmly, and Torrance goes quiet.

I can’t get over that word. Manipulate. In this moment, the wrongness is so clear that I can’t believe we really did it.

Except—it worked, didn’t it? There were times I was so sure it would fall apart, but it hasn’t. They have their second chance, and they’ve been together for at least the past month, maybe longer. We helped mend something everyone assumed was broken. We interfered, but we didn’t hurt anyone. That has to be a net positive, even if it means we’re no longer welcome at this station.

Torrance’s silence is worse than her icy questioning. Every time she’s been furious at Seth, I’ve been all too aware of it. But I never considered what it would feel like to have that rage directed at me.

“I—I can start looking for work at other stations,” I say. “If that’s what you want me to do. There has to be a way for us to make this right. I know we crossed about a hundred lines, but you have to believe we were doing it for the right reasons.”

Russ is nodding vigorously. “What Ari said. We just—” He finally meets my eyes, a soft, worried blue behind his glasses, and it’s enough to reassure me. Whatever happens, he’s in this with me. We’ll get through it together. “We just want to make this right.”

Seth still hasn’t said anything. But his shoulders—they’re shaking. Holy shit. He can’t be crying . . . can he? If so, this is even worse than I thought. Maybe it won’t be enough to leave KSEA. Maybe I’ll have to find a job in another part of the state. Or switch careers completely.

When he finally turns around and catches Torrance’s eye, the two of them burst out laughing.

Laughing.

Russ looks stricken, and my expression of horror must match his. Seth doubles over, clutching his stomach, and Torrance is laughing so hard she has to grip the edge of her desk.

“What’s going on?” I ask, a little afraid of the answer. Surely, the two of us being fired isn’t that comical?

When Torrance can finally breathe again, she brushes blond strands from her face, swiping away what might actually be a tear. “It’s funny,” she says, “because we’ve been doing the exact same thing to you.”