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“Brilliant!” she yells at the ceiling, toasting the air once again. “That was Dillon, right? He's always had a thing for fireworks and stuff like that. Tell me that was Dillon’s idea!”
I sip at the whiskey again, feeling its hot tendrils soaking through my blood from my chest outward. The taste doesn't bother me as much anymore.
“Oh, that was totally Dillon. He's really creative, insightful too. I couldn’t believe it when I saw how many people gathered around to watch all that. I mean, he arranged it so that everything would fall into place that way.”
Hannah nods to herself, humming quietly through her nose. I don't think she really heard what I just said though. But it's true. Dillon’s real personality was reflected in the whole event, his intuition for what people want, how to make a splash.
And thinking about it, I realize that was a real gift for Emmet too. He wanted both of us to be delighted. I could see how much Dillon loved his brother in the way that Emmet's expression lit up over and over again. It was like we were both walking through the fairytale wonderland that Dillon had crafted for both of us.
The warmth in my chest spreads even further, and I'm not sure it's just the whiskey.
“So… okay,” I stammer, beginning to edge back toward the door. “Everything's okay, then? I am just going to go back and —”
“It's over!” she whispers suddenly.
Her eyes are wide, her smile so broad I think she just gave herself a new dimple.
“What's over?” I ask, confused. “I mean… that was the last thing we had planned, right? We all knew that, didn’t we? I just assumed that —”
“No, you don't understand,” she continues, her voice speeding up. “It's over. They signed. Look. Right here.”
She taps a stack of manila folders in the middle of her desk with her magenta lacquered fingernail. Then she taps it a few more times, even harder.
“It's over! The merger… it's done!”
It all starts to sink in and I take a deep, shuddering breath. “They signed!?”
“All right here in black and white and blood oaths!” she nods, toasting me so hard that the whiskey sloshes out of her glass. She takes a second to refill it, and gestures with her fingers for my glass too.
“Oh my God… already?”
I let her refill the glass and force myself to take a deep drink. I don't usually like to drink too much whiskey since it works on me so fast, but this is a special occasion. Relief washes through me, a cooling, prickling sensation.
“It worked. We did it!” she hoots.
“Well, yeah… I mean of course that’s awesome. But how?”
“You know what, I'm not entirely sure,” she shrugs, her blouse slipping over one shoulder. “I thought we still had a couple of days left, and was really waiting for Perez's story to get out. I thought we might even have to wait for yours to go live on TurnPost for a day or two. But they must have already had the docs ready to go by messenger! When I talked to Rick — you remember Rick at Google — he said it just felt right.”
“That's amazing!” I smile, feeling all the tension drifting away from me.
“No, you're amazing!” she grins. She leans forward, pushing her elbows on her desk and holding her hands out as though gesturing to me like I am something amazing on a game show. “It's you! Our plan… y
ou did it. We did it. You guys just kept pounding the media until everyone believed. To be honest, I didn't even think you had it in you!”
“Well, you know,” I pout, shifting uncomfortably, “I am familiar with men. They are just people.”
“Ha!” she barks, rather cruelly, I think. “You know they exist, but you don't know anything about men. You never have. You’re stuck between reality and fantasy and always get all… twisted around. Like you just got thrown from a horse!”
She laughs for a really long time, obviously amused by herself. I feel myself straighten in my chair and slide the glass back onto the end of her desk.
“Well I’m just glad it worked out,” I mumble.
“Turned out what you really needed was two men!”
“So, I'm really glad this all went so well,” I finish as a way of saying goodbye. I want to stay polite, and moreover, I really don't need to hear her critique of my love history. I think I should leave while I still have any love left for her.
“Me too,” she sighs, smiling obliviously. “So what's next for you?”
