Page 106 of I Saw You First

“So you think I should apply for the new position?” I ask.

“I think, in your heart, you already know the answer to that question. Now, let’s talk about Abbey and how you’re going to get her back. Tell me everything.”

I do. I tell her everything I know and love about Abbey Rhodes. We talk for a long time, until Mom can no longer hide her yawns.

“You’ll find a way,” she says. “I know you will.”

I say good night, tell her that I love her, and then I call Sam. If anyone can help me get Abbey back, it’s Sam.

THIRTY

“OH! DARLING” BY THE BEATLES, 1969

ABBEY

I meet with the attorney, Tamsa’s brother Zahid. He’s serious, brusque, and thorough, not like Tam at all. She comes with me and holds my hand the entire meeting.

“You have the check?” Zahid asks.

I reach into my purse and find the tiny square of paper that I retrieved from the ashtray this morning. He watches, his features steady and unreadable, as I unfold and unfold and unfold. Finally, I set the check on his gleaming mahogany desk and smooth out the creases. “Here it is.”

“This is very good for our case,” Zahid says. “Very good. Another smoking gun, you might say.”

“I’m so proud of you for not cashing that check,” Tamsa says. “Hell, I’m proud of me for not cashing mine. That would have taken care of a nice chunk of my student loans.”

I don’t feel like I deserve her praise after keeping my secret for so many months when, if I’d come forward right away, I might have been able to prevent what happened to Tam and the others. When I say this, though, Tam and her brother both look personally affronted.

“Don’t beat yourself up like that,” Tamsa says. “You did the best you could under the circumstances. We’re all just doing the best we can.”

I’m going to make this my new life motto. Sure, I’d love for everything to always work out for me, but I know now that even if it doesn’t, I can do the hard things to get through it. And with this new motto, I’m reminded that everyone’s going through something.

I write an op-ed for psycho logic about sexual harassment—no names or other identifying information—with that motto as a headline. For the first time ever, Hal schedules a second print run and pays me double.

One afternoon, Sam pages me back to the warehouse.

“What’s up?” I sit down in Eric’s chair. I’m exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. So tired from everything that’s happened over the last few weeks; hopeful because the lawsuit’s moving forward. Zahid is optimistic that it’ll be favorable for all of us. What I want more than anything is for no other woman to have to experience what we did—at least from Ryan Bradford.

“How have your meetings gone?” Sam asks. I finally came clean a couple of days ago when he found me crying in the media warehouse. I know he won’t tell anyone, not even Wil.

I give Sam a brief overview of the last meeting and then share some other news. “Tamsa accepted the offer from Sky Blue Waters, and she told me today that they’re hiring a junior entertainment reporter, too.”

“Ah,” Sam says. “You’re going to apply, then?”

“I love it here. I really do. Working at Hometown was exactly what I needed.”

“You’re good at this gig,” he says.

I smile. I never would have made it here without him. “Yes, I’m good at this. But that doesn’t mean I have to do it forever. I think it’s time to go back to what I’m really meant to do, and maybe not getting those promotions helped me realize it.”

“I’m going to miss you,” he says.

“Don’t put the cart in front of the horse.”

“I’ve got a good feeling about this. Let me know if you need a reference or something.”

“You’re the best, Sam.”

Kevin pages me to the media desk, and I turn to leave the warehouse.