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By Alexander’s reaction, I didn’t think she had. It must be something else he was asking. Sometimes, agency managers, especially women, got harassed by male clients.
It had never personally happened to me, but it sounded like that was what he was trying to find out.
“No, nothing like that,” I assured him.
He sighed in relief. “Then can I ask why you want to be reassigned?”
Because I was crazy? Because I was afraid of falling for a man who clearly wasn’t into committed relationships?
I thought of the promotion and how dropping an account like this wouldn’t be a good look for it.
“It’s not really that I want to be reassigned. I just feel like I need something else too. Maybe if—”
Alex snapped his fingers. “I’ve got you. I don’t want you to focus on one thing so much that you burn out, either. Let me see what I can do.”
He was gone before I could try to explain further. I knew he’d give me another account, probably just something minor for the time being. But maybe that would help.
Back at my desk, I finally took my phone off airplane mode. Several buzzes and beeps later, I put it down again. The messages could wait. But then it rang, a new call, so I took a deep breath and answered it.
“Why did you leave?” Dylan asked, sounding hurt and confused. We’d planned on spending some time together here before our flight that afternoon.
“I just felt the need to get back,” I said. “I hope you still went and saw the things you wanted to.”
“I spent a lot of time looking for you. Lana, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, I just—”
“Lana,” he said firmly. “Tell me what’s happening here. You justleft, and I don’t understand why.”
“We had a wonderful night together.”
“Night and morning,” he added pointedly.
“Night and morning. And I think we should keep it as that. A one-time thing.”
“Two times,” he pointed out, sounding annoyed. “Two nights, Lana. And I definitely need a lot more than that with you.”
“It was a fun night, but I think we got carried away with—”
“Stop it. It’s more than that. You know that.”
Was it? Did I? I needed to get off the phone or I was going to do something really stupid like fuckingcry.
“Dylan, I’m at work. I can’t really talk about this right now.”
“Meet me when you get off. Or better yet, I’ll come to you. We need to talk about this.”
“I realize what’s happened hasn’t been entirely professional, but—”
“Fuckprofessional, Lana. I want to talk about us. Let me come over when you get home tonight.”
Our professional relationship, even if he didn’t care about that at the moment, really was at the heart of my decision-making. It had to be.
How things ended between us would affect the account and my ability to represent Deft Rock. I couldn’t just run away and hide from this like a little girl.
“Come over at seven, and we can talk.”
“I’ll see you then.”
