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Constance’s smile was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so personal.”
Troy held up a hand, palm out. “No, you’re fine.”
She didn’t seem convinced. “OK. Well, good night, Troy.”
He watched her leave. In the morning, would he join Faith’s employer as The Jerk Boss?
Faith stared down at Andrea as she lay curled on the sofa. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. What’s new with you?” She didn’t have a prayer of distracting Faith. Her friend was as tenacious as a bulldog.
Faith lowered herself to the armchair cattycorner to the sofa. Her tan V-neck top and brown crew pants looked incongruous with her big, fuzzy orange slippers. “This is the third night in a row that you’ve spent at home. It’s not that we don’t enjoy your company—”
“I’m glad you said that. I was beginning to wonder.”
“—but you have a fine-looking man. No one would blame you for making as much time as possible with him. So what gives?”
Andrea shook her head. Misery was a weight pressing on her chest. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe.
Faith leaned forward in the armchair. Her forehead creased with concern. “Andrea, what’s wrong?”
She swallowed. The lump in her throat stung. “Troy and I broke up.”
Faith gaped. “What happened?”
Andrea blinked once, twice. Then the tears came. She couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. They flooded her cheeks. Faith appeared in front of the sofa with a box of tissues.
Andrea swung her legs off the sofa and sat up. “Thanks.” Her voice was thick with sobs.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Faith sat beside her. She put her right arm around Andrea’s shoulders.
Andrea dried her eyes. “Troy doesn’t trust me.”
“Why do you think that?”
Andrea swallowed again. The lump in her throat still didn’t move. “He accused me of writing negative stories about the Monarchs to advance my career.”
“You write for Sports. Either the stories you’re writing aren’t negative or you’re doing something wrong.” Faith sounded confused.
Andrea blew her nose. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Andrea placed the box of tissues on her jeans-clad lap. “Barron gave me an interview. The feature focuses on the reasons for his alcohol abuse and his decision to enter the rehab program. It’s a good piece.”
“I’m sure it is. You’re a great reporter.”
Andrea scowled. “Not according to Troy. First, he asked me not to write the article. Then he asked to review it before it’s published.”
Faith’s eyebrows shot up again. “Are you going to let him see it?”
“No.” She was surprised Faith would even ask.
“Maybe he’d feel better if he saw it first, though.” Her friend’s tone was pensive.
Andrea angled herself toward Faith. “Do you think I was wrong to refuse to show him the article?”
Faith’s arm fell away from Andrea’s shoulders. “I don’t know.”
