Come As You Are(40)

Once again, I’m left wondering if it plays a part in her wants. That warning voice speaks louder, a reminder that trust must be earned.

Fully.

“I love that you’re kind of obsessed with what New York was. Its past,” I say, so I can dodge the thorny subject of incomes, and how I can afford to live in New York twenty times over and how she’s living off her cousin’s kindness.

“I am, and it’s probably a pointless obsession. We can’t really cling to the past. God knows I’ve had to move on from so many other things.”

That’s an issue I don’t want to dodge though. I want to know what holds her back, beyond work. I want to understand where that sadness comes from. “Do you mean ex-boyfriends or family?”

“Both,” she says heavily. “My ex was pretty much the worst, and my mother is pretty much the worst too.”

“The ex—he’s totally out of the picture?”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s so far out of the picture he lives in China. We were supposed to be married, and he left me two days before the wedding.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. “He’s not fit to pick up the potato chip bags you walk on.”

She smiles. “I know. And I’m glad I’m over him.”

A warm, golden feeling spreads through my chest, blatantly ignoring my concerns about trust, overtaking them, even. “I’m glad you’re over him too.”



*

The next day, Jennica pops into my office. “Any chance you’d want to talk to Kermit?”

I remember the halo from the party, and him hard pitching me on an interview, then commenting on the halo, like he knew what had happened.

I shake my head. “I’d rather not.”

She presses her palms together in a plea. “He’s pretty insistent, and he does have a great reach. Will you reconsider?”

Sighing heavily, I lean back in my leather chair, thinking. I need to make sure my focus remains on Haven—always on Haven. These people depend on me. As much as the guy irked me with his offhand comment, if I have to sweep it under the rug, I will, and keep my emotions out of the equation. “Will it help the marketing? Is it important to the company?”

“I think it’ll help our rollout. The more publicity we get, the better. His network is expanding. His work is getting great pickup—not just the shows he hosts, but all his shows. His podcasts and reports are carried everywhere.”

When I started the interview with Sabrina, I promised myself I wouldn’t let my feelings for her get in the way of that piece. While she has more on the line than I do when it comes to this story, I can’t afford any missteps either. Not with her, and not with anyone. It would definitely be a misstep to piss off Kermit.

I look at my watch. “I’m pretty focused on this piece with Sabrina right now. It takes up a lot of time. Could we set something for when it’s done?”

She bounces on her tiptoes. “I can do that.”

“Glad I could make you happy.”

She smiles. “I know he’s a pain in the butt, but he’s also a rising star, and he’s somebody we can’t overlook.”

That’s what irks me. I feel like he has something to lord over me. Something he’ll whip out at any moment. That’s another reason why I personally can’t afford to ignore him.





18





Sabrina



This is cruel and unusual punishment.

The icing calls to me. It speaks to me in sweet, sugary tones. Lick me, take me, touch me.

“This isn’t fair. This is like going to a shelter full of big-eyed pups needing homes. I want to give them all a home,” I say to Courtney as I gawk at the polished glass case in the Sunshine Bakery on the Upper West Side.

Marble cakes and slices of tropical coconut pies whisper sweet nothings to me. Pink strawberry-shortcake cupcakes wink in my direction. A mouth-watering seven-layer bar talks dirty to me—eat me.

Oh yes, I believe I will.

Courtney taps her finger against her chin. “We’re having a celebration today since one of our start-ups hit a big milestone, and I need to bring cake to the office.”

“Cake is the universal currency.”

“It’s also the universal motivator. People will do anything for cake.”

“You’re going to use cake to tell your team you need them to work sixty-hour weeks? You’re a cruel mistress.”

“Ha. Not quite. But you know what else cake does?”

“Tell me.”

“It weeds out the animals in your office. I brought a sheet cake in once, left it in the break room, and when I went to get it ten minutes later, it looked like a family of bear cubs had come through.”

“Cake transforms people into bear cubs. It’s a proven fact.”

She returns to the glass, perusing the offerings and stopping at a vanilla cake with confetti frosting. “Ohh, look at the celebration cake.”

I do, and my eyes pop out. “It’s eight dollars a slice. It better give me celebratory orgasms at that price.”

The woman behind the counter laughs. “It just might. I’ve been told my cake is quite orgasmic.”

I laugh, but I can’t bring myself to shell out that much dough for a slice of dough.