Weather Girl(84)

29




FORECAST:

WINTER STORM WARNING. Prepare your disaster kit

WE DON’T LAUGH. Not the way Torrance and Seth did. Technically, Seth is still laughing, body shaking from the sheer hilarity of it all, and now it’s clear why he wasn’t looking at us—because he didn’t want to give anything away.

We were doing the exact same thing.

Russ is frozen in the chair next to me. When I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out.

“I’m sorry,” Torrance says. “I couldn’t resist playing around with you two at first. It makes sense now, that you started spending time together because you were plotting to get us to spend time together. That was the only reason we noticed how well you got along, and that made us start pushing you together, too. It’s rather amusing, when you think about it.”

“Push is a bit of a stretch. Let’s call them gentle nudges.” Seth rolls up his sleeves, as though all that laughter was some athletic achievement. “Nothing big. When Ari fell down the stairs, Tor was ready to take her to the hospital, but with Russell there, and given the way you two had been acting at Century Ballroom . . . we saw an opportunity. So we encouraged him to go instead.”

That night: when my feelings for him became impossible to ignore. When I let him in for the first time, guided him through a museum of my past.

“What else?” My voice trembles. “What else did you do?”

Torrance holds her palms up, this expression of guilt I’m also not used to seeing from her. “I may have disconnected your computer from the internet a couple months ago. I didn’t know for certain that you’d go ask Russell if you could use his, but you two were friendly, so it seemed worth a shot.” And I did. I did exactly what she’d wanted me to do. “Then when he started feeling seasick on the boat, I gently nudged you to go home with him. And we tried to bring the other person up in conversation as much as we could. That’s it.”

“Oh, and the storm-chaser story,” Seth puts in. “With that tsunami guy.”

“Typhoon,” I say quietly.

“Right.” Torrance snaps her fingers. “But you two were together by then, so that was just icing on the cake.”

Gentle nudges—okay. Except . . . something significant happened each time they meddled. That night in the hotel, our first kiss, Russell asking me to watch Elodie.

None of that feels gentle to me.

“It was clear you two liked each other,” Torrance continues. “You seemed like a good match. And what do you know, all that scheming brought us closer.” Her mouth quirks upward. “You helped us without even realizing it.”

“Just so we understand all of this,” Russell says, “you’re not upset with us?”

“I’m not.” Torrance glances at her ex-husband and current boyfriend, and there’s a real tenderness in the way she looks at him. “Seth?”

He shakes his head. “How can we be? You helped us realize we weren’t over.” He strides over to Torrance, draping an arm around her shoulders, and while it should be a casual, effortless move, I don’t miss the way Torrance’s eyes flutter, like she’s still processing the adrenaline rush of his touch. I know that feeling. I love that feeling. “It was a hell of a way for us to get here, but . . . it worked.”

“Our therapist is going to love this,” Torrance says.

God. They’re even going to therapy together.

This is surreal. They know the truth, and they’re not furious. I have whiplash—my emotions have done multiple one-eighties in the past half hour.

“I guess it worked for both of us!” Seth gives Torrance’s arm a quick squeeze before moving toward the door. “I’m going to see if they have any more of that champagne out there.”

And with that, he hustles out of the office.

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit. It should be comforting, maybe, that we were all conspiring together. But something about this wild truth has melted away all the magic from this snow day. I want to be as eager for a champagne toast as Seth, and yet there’s a hockey-puck-sized lump in my throat I’m not sure how to explain.

“I take it this means we’re not out of a job?” Russell asks. It sounds as though he’s across the room, maybe in a different office or different building, and not in the chair next to me.

“Definitely not,” Torrance says. “And I’m no longer managing Ari directly, but I see no reason why HR would need to know any of this. What you two did . . . it doesn’t change the kind of journalist or scientist you are.” She lets out a sharp ha. “In fact, it was almost its own form of journalism. But I think we can agree on honesty from here on out?”

“Yes,” I say emphatically, pushing my boots hard into the floor to keep myself present. “Of course.”

“Then I’m going to get back to that party!” She springs to her feet, scrunching a hand through her curls to return them to their usual state of perky perfection. “Let’s do another double date soon, okay?”

We’re quiet after she leaves, reality settling over us like a too-thick blanket. I’m desperate to know what’s going through Russell’s head, and if it’s anywhere near as chaotic as what’s going through mine. And yet I have no idea where to start. Probably with getting out of this chair. Out of this office.