“I have to ask. Did anyone actually respond to the note?” Donovan inquired.
“Surprisingly, yes. I got a bunch of emails,” Brooklyn said.
That seemed to get Alec’s attention. “Was it all like the guy outside with the sign?”
Brooklyn shook her head. “Nope. I mean, I got some of that. I definitely offended a few people. But I also got positive responses. Guys who were open to the idea.”
“How many guys?” Alec asked, seeming extra inquisitive and even a bit horrified.
“Thirty-seven.”
Lela’s eyes went wide with astonishment. “Wow. I haven’t even kissed thirty-seven men, let alone, you know… thought about having sex with them. I mean, good for you.”
Alec reached for Brooklyn’s arm. “Hold on a minute. Thirty-seven? Are you serious?”
Brooklyn reared back her head. Why did he have to sound so surprised by the idea? “Yes, Alec.” She wanted to ask why in the hell he would even care. He’d been clear that he wasn’t interested in the job himself.
“Mr. Trakas,” the production assistant from earlier stepped out into the hall. “We need you and Ms. Monroe on set.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s us,” he said to Brooklyn.
“Okay,” she answered, unable to shake the feeling that Alec was once again casting judgment on her, and that the final verdict was that she was ridiculous.
“Good luck,” Lela said.
“Thanks,” Brooklyn replied.I think I’m going to need it.
Chapter Eight
Alec had committedhis interview notes to memory. It wasn’t a hard thing to do, since there were only a few. He intended to let Brooklyn tell her story. He wasn’t about to steer it. Instead, he had a very long mantra running through his head right now:You can do this. It might be your one and only chance with the news division, but you can walk the tightrope of being kind to the person you once hoped you’d marry while asking her tough questions.
If only she hadn’t dropped the bomb that thirty-seven men had responded to the now-infamous Posh Male note. He vacillated between jealousy and concern—there were likely a few super handsome, capable (cough) men on that list. There were also probably a few skeevy jerks. If it were up to him, he’d keep them all away from Brooklyn. Even when he was in no way entitled to an opinion about the matter.
It felt like he was baking under the studio lights as he waited for them to go live. Somewhere off in the murky depths of the studio, Georgia Carle from the network was standing, silently readying her keen eye for weakness, waiting to make a ruthless appraisal of Alec. Across from him sat Brooklyn, legs crossed and foot bobbing. She was just as nervous as he was, or so it seemed, but even then she managed to smile at him. It was such a kind and genuine expression, reminding him of just how nice it was to wake up next to her, with her warm skin, sweet scent, and gorgeous hair tumbled across the pillow.
“We’re back in four, three…” the stagehand said.
Alec reflexively turned to the camera, but now the segment notes he’d memorized were gone. His mind was blank. No words. None at all.
The stagehand held up two fingers. Then one.
Alec froze. He’d never done this. Ever. Not even his first time on camera.Think, dammit. Think.
Brooklyn cleared her throat and something about it kicked his brain into gear.
“This morning, we have aGood Day USAexclusive. An interview with Brooklyn Monroe, the founder of successful beauty subscription service Posh Post. One week ago, Ms. Monroe’s company supplied nearly twenty-thousand men across the United States with a box of free luxury grooming products.” That first line probably sounded fine on TV, but to Alec, it felt as though he was coughing up his words. “That box contained an unusual note, suggesting that Ms. Monroe, an overworked CEO, wanted to find someone to get her pregnant. She’s here today to set the story straight about how that note came into being, and how she’s been dealing with the fallout.” He turned to Brooklyn, the difficulty of the task before him suddenly becoming a nearly unbearable weight. He had to be gentle with her. He didn’t know another way. But he also had to get to the meat of the matter if he was going to make the most of this chance. “Ms. Monroe, welcome to the show.”
“Please. Call me Brooklyn. My fourth grade teacher called me Ms. Monroe and it was usually in the context of scolding me for talking too much in class. I’d rather keep it informal.”
Alex silently breathed a sigh of relief. She had such a way of diffusing tension. “Then Brooklyn, why don’t you tell us what exactly happened with that note.”
She smiled and smoothed her skirt, sitting a little straighter. “Like a lot of stupid things, it started with a joke and got completely blown out of proportion.” She went on to explain how she and her sister were always giving each other crap, and how that bit of innocent sibling ribbing ended up at the bottom of a letter to their mailing list. “So that’s really all there was to it. It was a joke. And I guess I’m the punchline. Or, at least, that’s what it’s turned me into.”
“How do you feel about the attention? There are memes about you. People have called you desperate and pathetic.”
“I try not to take myself too seriously, but it hurts. There’s no doubt about that.” She shrugged. “I think it’s a little funny how people are in such an uproar about it. I have a feeling there are a lot of single women out there who feel the way I do. Probably lots of single men, too. You want to become a parent, but your love life hasn’t worked out the way you thought it would. Maybe you’ve put your career first for a while, but how else are you supposed to be successful in this day and age? It doesn’t matter what field you go into; everything is incredibly competitive. And if you’re an entrepreneur, the pressure can be even worse, because then you have other people relying on you, counting on you for a paycheck, and of course there’s your own livelihood, too. If you make a mistake, you feel like you’re never going to be able to recover.” She sucked in a deep breath and her sights landed directly on Alec, her expression one of embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I get a little worked up about it.”
“Please don’t apologize. I’m sure our viewers want to hear your side of it.” He took a beat and prepared himself to ask his next question. The one that tangentially had to do with him. “Do you think it’s harder to meet someone and fall in love now, given the modern dating landscape?”
