Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(55)

“I promise I will. Thank you, Greg, for telling me. Would it…would it be all right if we exchanged numbers? I don’t want to conspire, but if the time comes that I might need more information, can I call?”

“Of course,” I answered as I reached into my pocket for my phone, relieved to have an ally, someone to be there when I wasn’t, to be aware.

I only hoped I was wrong about the whole thing, that we’d never need to talk about it again. But deep down, I knew that wish was nothing but fool’s gold.





14





Bigger Problems





Annie

Cam looked up when I walked into the office to clock out. “Hey, Annie.”

“Hey!” I reached for my coat. “I’m all set out front. Need anything else?”

“Nope, you’re good to go.” She watched me as I clocked out using the little machine in the back. “Excited about the mixer?”

“I cannot wait. I’m bringing my new boyfriend,” I sang, waggling my eyebrows, feeling that zing of excitement and unfamiliarity of the word in my mouth.

“Boyfriend?” she asked, though I thought there was a little bit of shock in the question.

I nodded, smiling. “Will, the guy I met in the park the other day.”

“Ah.”

Disappointment? Was that what I’d heard? I shook off the notion.

“We’re going as Sophie and Benedict from An Offer from a Gentleman.”

Cam nodded her appreciation. “Ooh, Julia Quinn. I like it. God, I wish I could be there. I was this close to convincing Tyler to come with me as Jondalar and Ayla from The Valley of Horses. He was pretty staunchly opposed to dressing up like a big, beautiful caveman.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m not tall enough, and he’s not blond or bearded enough. But man, what I would do to see him in a loincloth in public.”

I laughed. “After that pitch, I can’t believe he wasn’t jumping at the chance. Also, that’s definitely taking historical to new levels. I didn’t realize we could go back thirty thousand years.”

“I like to test boundaries.”

“No…you?” I pulled on my coat.

“Shocking, I know.” She smiled at me for a beat. “So, you and Will jumped right in, didn’t you?”

I sighed. “He’s just so…romantic, you know? Every word that comes out of his mouth is just…right.”

“You know, I had my own Will once.”

“Did you? A total dreamboat?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Football player, total babe. Smart, funny, into me. But he didn’t end up being who I’d thought he was.”

The smile that had been on my face most of the day faded, and Greg’s recount of Will’s story crossed my mind.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I learned a lot about what’s real and what isn’t, who to trust with my heart and who to keep out. But it wasn’t an easy lesson to learn; it took me years to sort it out.”

Apprehension snaked through my stomach, but I waved away the sense of foreboding. “Well, hopefully my Will doesn’t do me like that.”

“I’m sure you’ll fare better than me, but it wouldn’t hurt you to keep your eyes open,” she said, the words holding more weight than I’d been prepared to shoulder. But then she smiled, and the moment passed. “I’m so bummed I won’t get to meet him at the party. I hate missing it, especially historical night. All those cravats.” A sigh slipped out of her. “But Tyler and I ended up having this last-minute dinner with one of his sports agency’s clients.”

I gave her a look. “You’re missing a costume party for a work dinner?”

“Uh, yeah, but only because it’s Julian Edelman. I hate the Patriots, but God, if I don’t love me some Edelman.” She paused. “Is Greg doing okay? I caught wind of some gossip about him and Will.”

I sighed. “I think so, yeah. We talked about it earlier, and I think it’s all right. We’re going to the ballet in a couple of days. God, I’m so excited. My week is going to be the absolute best.”

She smiled enigmatically. “I hope you guys have fun.”

“Thanks. Me too. I’d better run; my sister’s waiting.”

“See you tomorrow, Annie.”

I waved and left the office, hurrying to the front where Elle and Greg were still talking. They stopped before I made it to them, and Elle was off her stool and pulling on her coat in a second flat. And then we exchanged goodbyes and headed out into the chill, arm in arm.

“How was work?” I asked as we headed toward the burrito joint down the street that everyone always talked about.

“Fine. How was your day?”

“Good. How’s Ward?”

Her cheeks flushed. “He’s fine.”

“Still handsome?”

She bumped me with her hip. “No. He came to work today, and his face was all wrong. Nose where an eye should be, ear where his mouth should be. It was like Picasso took a solid swing and landed him in the Cubist period.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Ward is fine. Everything is fine.”