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He nods. “That’s good, Olivia. Maybe study something to do with writing, though you’re already very good. I’d love to help in any way I can, whether it’s tuition or introducing you to people. Anything.”
Pain funnels into my heart. “Thanks.” My appetite disappears and for the next few minutes, I push my food around the plate. I hate this lying and yes, it’s for work but I still hate it.
“No pressure though, okay?” Jace says.
I nod. “Okay.” I inhale deeply and exhale slowly. Today has been a special day and I want it to end on a high note. I can’t have regrets haunting me all evening. I push away the disturbing thoughts. I’ll have more than enough time to ponder over what I did wrong when Jace and I part ways. For now, I’m going to enjoy every minute we have together.
“How did the show go?” I ask Jace.
“Good.” He glances at his watch. “We might catch it if we don’t stay for too long.”
“I’d love to watch it.”
“Something interesting happened. We got some very nice publicity from this magazine. The article went, ‘The Anderson Clinic has an ambiance that feels like home…’ Something like that,” Jace says.
My blood turns to ice. I’m not aware that the first piece has already gone out. Oh my God. It’s becoming real. I reach for the glass of champagne and down it in one go.
“I wish I knew who the writer was, I’d sent them flowers,” Jace says in a playful voice.
I’m so scared my heart is beating a mile a minute. “Good publicity is awesome.” I don’t even know what I’m saying.
I’m obviously making sense because Jace nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes.”
“I have a bit of a headache.” I’m desperate to go home. It’s true that my head hurts but that’s probably from sudden stress. “Is it okay if we leave?”
A look of concern comes over Jace’s features. “Is it the champagne? You only drank two glasses.”
I smile to show him I’m okay. “Probably too much relaxation. My body is not used to it. I’ll be fine. I just need to rest a little.”
Jace calls for the check and we leave shortly after. I feel guilty for making him worry but I can’t stand sitting there and pretending that I’m innocent. In the car, he rests his hand on my leg in a comforting gesture.
“Do you want me to drop you home?” Jace asks.
I want to be with Jace. This day has been perfect apart from a few blips. I say a few but I’m sweating on a cool evening. “The plan was to go to your place, wasn’t it?”
“Okay.” Jace will drop me home in the morning as he goes to work then I’ll follow half an hour or so later.
Jace and I settle in the living room after changing into comfortable clothes. A t-shirt and shorts for him and a borrowed shirt for me. He turns on the TV.
“Coffee?” he asks.
“Coffee would be great,” I tell him, feeling sick inside. Would it really be so bad if I came clean and told him that I’m a magazine writer? A fresh cold sweat breaks out on my skin, making me feel like I have a fever. The thought itself is enough to make me physically ill. There has to be another way. I just need time to figure it out.
I reach for the remote control to increase the volume when I notice that the show we’re waiting for has come on. The interviewer introduces his guests, first the CEO of The Blue Valley Medical Center, an older gentleman with graying hair. Then she introduces Jace and the camera zooms in to his gorgeous face. He looks so handsome and so solemn.
“Right on time,” Jace says setting the mugs on the coffee table.
“Thanks.” I take the coffee and wrap my hands around it as I bring it to my lips. I’m tense and I can’t bring myself to relax. “You look so good on TV.”
“Your man,” Jace says.
“Yep.” My tone is hesitant. I have no right to claim Jace. I want to cry but I can’t. I have to put on a front. I focus on the interview although I’m too tense to enjoy it.
The interviewer comes to the part Jace told me about. She takes a copy of the latest edition of Lifestyle Magazine and reads for him a bit of the article. The article is attributed to Staff Writer, another way of saying we don’t want you to know the identity of the writer.
I take my phone to search for the article online. It’s a small article, word for word of what I sent to Amelia. On the one hand, I’m flattered that she hasn’t changed a thing and thought it was good enough as it was. Another part of me would have preferred changes, so I could lie to myself that it’s not entirely my work.
Thankfully she doesn’t linger and moves on to another topic.
