One Last Time(34)

“I know.” I look back, meeting his eyes. “Especially since it was him who had a bunch of questionable texts, long weekends, and large gifts on the credit card for his co-worker.”

There’s no way I could miss the flash of awareness that plays across his face. Yeah, that’s right, I suspected.

She tsks. “Why would you ever think she was having an affair?”

He cracks his neck and mumbles under his breath. “Tell me, Kris, how was your date with Noah Frazier?”

“You mean my meeting for the article I’m writing?” I hope he feels like the idiot he is. “I’d really love to talk, but I have company and need to get the kids settled. Thanks for dropping them off.” I move forward while I push the door. He is either going to move or the door will close on him . . . his choice. “You can pick them up on Wednesday from Danielle’s for your weekday dinner. Bye, now.”

He moves backward with his mouth open. “Are you—”

“See you soon,” I say when there is less than an inch of space.

The satisfaction rocks through me. I’m not the meek little housewife he wanted. I’m on my own, starting over, and I’ll be damned if his voice will fill my head anymore.

Danielle stands there with her fingers on her lips. “Wow,” she breathes.

“Was that bad?”

“No, that was epic.”

I fall into the chair, feeling drained but proud. I stood up to him. I didn’t fall apart or try to explain away his accusations. Maybe Danielle is right and I’m getting the old Kristin back. One that has been smothered and refuses to stay down any longer.

Watch out world.





Chapter Fourteen





Kristin





I stand at Erica’s desk while she reads over the article. My nerves are through the roof as I wait for any feedback. It’s so different from what I did years ago. I don’t just go where the story is and wing it. No, not only do I have to smash everything important into fewer than a thousand words, but I also need to make it catchy enough that people won’t click away from it in two seconds. Television storytelling is a whole other world.

“Hmm,” she says and puts the paper down.

“Is that a good hmm?”

Erica places both hands in the air, moving them around a bit. “You’ve had a change. The coloring is different around you. Very pink.”

Here we go again. This girl needs meds and to lay off the acid. “I’m wearing blue.”

“I know what you’re wearing, Kristin, but your aura is adjusting to whatever is going on in your life.”

Ah. My aura, again, I should’ve known. How silly of me. Erica moves around the desk, standing very much in my space. “I like the article. You were funny and got more than I thought you would. He isn’t known for being open in interviews. This is all good, and he must’ve liked you—”

“Liked me?” I interrupt.

She moves over to where she has rolled yoga mats. “Yes, he called this morning.”

My eyes go wide, but I don’t say anything. I have no idea what would make him call my boss, but there’s no shortage of inappropriate things that could have prompted it. What if he told her I kissed him or got drunk and pulled him into the pool? I should’ve known this was never going to work, even if he did kind of promise that we were going to start over.

Damn it.

“Relax, Kristin.” Erica giggles. “Get a mat and sit with me.”

Not wanting to get fired, I begrudgingly grab the other yoga mat and take my place beside her. She’s sitting crisscrossed with her hands resting on her knees. “The key is to find your center.”

“Right. Center.”

I’m centered in hell right now.

“He said he’d like to do another piece with you writing it,” she says with her eyes closed. “He’d like to do a much larger exposé and really delve into a more meaningful story.”

The words fail me. I had hoped after the article I wrote, he’d go back to New York, and I could pretend this weekend was just a dream. Now he wants me to write some large story about him? This cannot be happening.

My self-control is not that good. We had one working dinner, which ended with us sucking face. An in-depth exposé where I need to be around him for longer periods of time will not bode well.

Although, sleeping with Noah is certainly not the worst thing that could happen.

I mentally slap myself. Yes, having sex with the man I’m supposed to write an article on would be inexcusable and totally unprofessional.

However, it would be a very authentic way to find out what women want.

Okay, I definitely need a shrink or a vibrator.

“I’m sure there’s someone more qualified than I am.” I try to push it off.

She starts to hum, and I stare at her. After a few more weird sounds, she blows out a long breath and turns to me. “He wants you. This is a good thing.” Erica’s hand touches my leg, and she continues, “Noah is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. You have no idea how many times he’s denied interviews.”

“Right. So why the hell does he suddenly want to do this and with me?”

“Who cares?”

“It doesn’t make sense. Why now? Why me? Why not interview with Barbara Walters if you’re going to do something for the first time? It’s crazy and I’m sure his publicist will never sign off on this.”