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She remembered the exact moment he’d walked into the office, his suit impeccable, not a hair on his head out of place. She knew because she’d been glancing—okay, staring—at the clock that hung above her desk, counting down the minutes until her boss’s next meltdown.
She’d already heard more than she wanted to about this new hire, a graduate from Yale Law who also held an MBA from Penn. No one else at the firm had multiple advanced degrees, and Hannah knew this thrilled the partners; the trio of salt-and-pepper-haired men in the swanky corner office.
Hannah, however, was a little less thrilled. She was on track to be made partner, and she wasn’t about to let this multiple-degreed hotshot get in her way. Not when she’d given the firm sixty, seventy, eighty hours a week for the past five years of her life. She hadn’t gone on a vacation or a second date since law school, but it would all be worth it when she had a swanky corner office too.
If Hayden Walker didn’t get in her way.
So she watched as he flicked raindrops off his jacket and made his way toward his desk, which happened to be right across from hers.
He gazed down at her with electric-blue eyes. “Are you my secretary?” he’d asked.
Of course he had a British accent.
9:20 p.m.
“YOU CAN STOP there,” I say softly.
Without missing a beat, he passes my phone back to me. He doesn’t try to read ahead or hang on to it any longer—he listens. He didn’t put on a voice, not even when he was reading the dialogue. He read it like he was in front of the classroom, giving a presentation. When I finally regain enough composure to look at him, his cheeks are flushed.
I liked how my words sounded in his voice.
“That was…”
“Horrible? Should I quit? I’ll quit.”
“No. God, no. Not at all. Artoo, that was really, really good. You should have used a comma in that third paragraph, not a semicolon—”
“I sincerely despise you.”
He offers a sheepish smile. “You’re a great writer. I mean it. That was so… tense.”
Now I’m blushing too. Neil McNair likes my writing. More than that, hearing him read it made me realize how much I like this story and these characters.
“Nothing even happened between them,” I say.
“It’s the anticipation, though. The reader knows something will happen.”
“The anticipation is great, don’t get me wrong. I love it. But I love the happily-ever-after that a romance novel almost always guarantees. Even if it’s not realistic.”
“Happiness is, though,” Neil says. “Or it can be. Maybe not ever-after kind of happiness, but that doesn’t make it any less real. My mom and Christopher have gone through a lot. Shouldn’t you want that other person to help you through difficult stuff?”
“That kind of stuff doesn’t happen after the epilogue,” I admit. “Most of Delilah’s books end with a marriage or a proposal and the assumption that everything’s going to be perfect. I know sometimes it really is just a fantasy. Obviously, Spencer and I weren’t perfect.”
Spencer, the boy I tried to force into the role I’d dreamed up. What would the past semester have looked like if I’d broken up with him, given myself permission not to have a PHSB by the end of it? I could have had more fun, I’m sure. I could have spent more time with Kirby and Mara instead of trying to interpret Spencer’s latest cryptic text.
“I’ve never felt that way about anyone either,” he says, and I sit a little straighter, ready for more Neil McNair Relationship History. “The relationships I had… They were nice, but not earth-shattering. I don’t know. Are relationships supposed to feel that way?”
“Earth-shattering?”
“Yeah. Like every moment you’re with them, your head is spinning and you can’t catch your breath and you just know that this person is changing your life for the better. Someone who challenges you to be better.”
“I—I think so,”
I say, because he’s caught me off guard, and I really am unsure. Spencer didn’t challenge me—he wasn’t a question on an AP exam. What I don’t tell Neil is that I’ve been looking for that earth-shattering love too, and sometimes I want it so badly, I’m convinced I could wish it into existence.
“You’re going to think this is bonkers, but Bailey and I… We broke up because she thought I had a thing for you.”
I snort. Loudly. It’s so ludicrous. “Oh my God. Kirby and Mara—they think I’m obsessed with you.”
