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Emma pulled off the glasses she used when working on the computer and rubbed her eyes. “It won’t be fast. It’s never fast.”
“That’s what she said,” Riley muttered.
“That phrase doesn’t really work in this context, Ri,” Julie said distractedly.
“That phrase always works in any context,” Riley responded.
“Hey, Ems, see if you can get the inside scoop,” Grace said, leaning back in her chair as Emma stood and stretched. “I’m dying to know what the heck this sabbatical is about. Three months?”
“I can’t ask,” Emma said, moving toward the door. “She said it was personal.”
“Right. Which translates to interesting,” Julie said, pulling her hair into a pony.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Emma jabbed a finger toward her laptop. “And don’t touch my edits. I know it was one of you that tried to sneak the word penis into my last headline.”
“Um, yeah. Because you need some penis in your life,” Riley said.
“I’ll have you know that I had some penis in my life . . . last week,” Emma said. “No, last month. Maybe . . .”
Her three friends looked at one another, and although the shared glance was more good-natured than it was poor Emma, it didn’t stop the irritation from rippling through her.
Emma was happy that her friends were all blissed out with their painfully good-looking men. Really. Good for them.
But that didn’t mean they had to lure her into their little club. Emma had tried the happily-ever-after route, and knew that for every woman who rode off into the sunset on a white stallion, another one got kicked in the face by that very same horse.
She’d been there. Done that. Moved on.
Emma wiggled her fingers at her friends and then headed toward Camille’s office. The Stiletto office was energetic even on the dullest of days, but today it was downright buzzy. Camille Bishop was practically an institution, not only at Stiletto, but in New York.
The change in leadership, even temporary, had people chirping with theories and predictions.
One noisy whisper in particular caught her attention. “I mean, can you imagine reporting to Alex Cassidy every week? He’s gorgeous. I wonder if he’s single.”
He’s not, Emma silently answered. She knew he was seeing someone, even though the Stiletto girls were weird about mentioning Cassidy’s relationships to her under some misplaced girl code. Granted, Emma had never actually told her friends what happened between her and Cassidy—not the full story.
In fact, if Emma had had it her way, she’d have gone to her grave without anyone knowing their history. But she supposed secrets that big weren’t meant to stay secrets. It had taken only a few short months for the group to realize that she and Cassidy had once been engaged.
Still, even Riley, Grace, and Julie didn’t know everything. Not just yet. Maybe not ever.
Emma had found the only thing worse than thinking about heartbreak was talking about it. Did that make her a little lonely?
Maybe.
But lonely was better than hurt.
New York should have been the one city big enough for both her and Cassidy to coexist without interacting, and yet somehow they’d found themselves not only working for the same company but in the same friend group.
They avoided each other as much as possible, but with Julie’s wedding right around the corner and Riley’s coming up right after that, she knew they’d have a couple face-to-face moments.
And that was before she knew she’d be reporting to him as her supervisor.
God help her.
Emma knocked on Camille’s door. “Boss?”
Camille glanced up from her cellphone and motioned Emma in. “Come. Sit.”
Emma sat in the seat across from Camille’s, her gaze briefly taking in the panoramic view of Central Park and the city’s skyline. For a girl from the suburbs of Charlotte, North Carolina, glimpses of Manhattan never got old. Not yet, anyway.
