Oh, this is going to be bad.
“From the beginning,” Devon continues, pacing slightly like he’s delivering a TED Talk no one asked for, “I recognized the undeniable chemistry between Tavey and Miller. The tension. The longing. The frankly painful lack of action.”
Cassie points at him again. “He’s not wrong.”
Nick nods once. “Accurate.”
I bury my face in my hands.
Devon presses on.
“So I did what any good friend and coworker would do. I applied pressure. Strategic, well-timed pressure.”
“You stirred the pot,” I mutter.
“I catalyzed growth,” he corrects.
“You were insufferable.”
“Semantics.”
He raises his glass higher.
“And so, it is with great pride—and frankly, a sense of personal accomplishment—that I stand here today, having successfully orchestrated one of the greatest workplace romances of our time.”
Miller appears at my side.
I didn’t see him move.
I just feel him there—solid, steady, real.
“I should’ve fired him,” he murmurs.
“Still time,” Iwhisper back.
Devon beams.
“To Tavey and Miller,” he says. “Proof that sometimes all it takes is a little chaos, a lot of persistence, and one extremely perceptive third party?—”
“Debatable,” Miller says under his breath.
“—to bring two people together.”
There’s laughter.
Applause.
Champagne glasses raised.
Devon looks unbearably pleased with himself.
“I hate him,” I say.
“Same.”
Miller’s hand finds mine.
Not subtle.
