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Then hit send.
She didn’t hear from him for a little while after that. But that didn’t exactly feel like a bad thing. This way, she had time to get herself straightened out. To build up guardrails around her emotions, so she wouldn’t be weird when she did see him. After all, the last thing she wanted was to start blubbering in front of him. He’d have questions, then.
And what was she supposed to say?I (33F annoying weird neurotic gremlin) fell in love with him (38M gorgeous wonderful famous rich hilarious caring superstar) and was really upset that he unsurprisingly wasn’t that into it? No, god no, that sounded absolutely batshit. She had to be better than that.
And by day three, she was.
She knew she was, because when Beck called her, her voice almost sounded normal again. It didn’t shake or seem thick with tears. And when he suggested she come in for a meeting, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. In fact, that seemed like a good practice run of contact before she had to see Alfie again.
“I can be there in an hour,” she told him.
Though it didn’t even take her that. She simply threw on some clothes, got herself into an Uber, then breezed into his office, like nothing had ever gone wrong a day in her life. Smile wide, eyes bright, bubbliness firmly in place.I am emotional Teflon, she told herself, as she sat down in the seat across his desk from him. And honestly everything in front of her only helped with that.
He’d transformed Greg’s old drab haunt into the coziest, warmest little nook she’d ever seen in her life. It now looked like the area of a library where kids got to read charming stuff. Every available corner was crammed with either soft furnishings, shelves overflowing with the most delightful books, or framed pictures of inspiring things. Or all three at the same time. She spied a whole beanbag sandwiched between two bookcases,with a photograph of him excitedly shaking Mister Rogers’s hand above it. And a sofa similarly situated beneath a cross-stitched aphorism. Or not an aphorism, exactly.
Just a tweet she recognized.
Everything happens so much, someone had neatly sewn.
And she suspected the someone responsible was him.
He definitely looked like the kind of man who would never be above doing a bit of needlepoint, she felt. And not just because he was wearing an actual bow tie with the shirt and V-neck jumper he’d chosen to wear today. No, it was his expression that really sold the idea. Because however cheery and sweet she’d thought he’d be, from his company headshot and his delightful phone manner, the man in person was ten times that and then some.
He actually looked excited to see her.
And offered tomakeher a coffee once she was sitting down.
“I have this fancy doodad right here in my office, so I can, you know, play a bit of the host and kind of set people at ease,” he said. Though he had to know his manner had already done just that. She felt more relaxed within five minutes of meeting him than she had in the entire time she’d spent in this building with anybody else. She almost wanted to thank him for being so much kinder than she was used to.
And that was before he got down to business.
“So I just want to start out by saying what a terrific, terrific job you’ve done,” he said the moment he’d finished making her a caramel latte with extra foam. “Honest to goodness, if you had told me that somebody was about to persuade Alfie Harding into actually telling them personal things about himself, and then letting them put it all into a book, I would have thought you were plain nuts. But here you come along, bright as a button, and damn if he doesn’t just give it all over to you.”
Then he shook his head, like it was just that wild.
Even though it was pretty simple, really.
Just gradually fall for him without your own permission or awareness, until you’re a desperate mess of a person unable even to controlyour own emotions in a cheery meeting, she answered him in her head. Then had to clench her teeth to stop said emotions from happening.Things have to get better sometime, she read, from the cross-stitch above his head.
And weirdly, it did kind of help.
As did him doing all the talking.
Even if the talking was about things she didn’t want to think about.
“Not to mention the fact that you did it all while navigating the wilds of a relationship. I mean, if that’s not a magical pairing of professionalism and things that make me all teary, I don’t know what is. Truly you’ve got a gift, I tell you what.”
You’ve no idea, Beck, she thought at him.
But before she could stress about that, he was on to something else.
“So I guess the question is now: What do you want to do next? Because your agent has just been chomping at the bit ever since you two kids got together, and now that you’re free to talk about something new we absolutely should,” he said, and so casually she almost didn’t grasp it. She went to answer, almost gratefully, thinking about the last emails her agent had sent her, and only stopped when she fully realized what he’d done. He’d spoken as if this job were over.
Which made no sense at all.
It wasn’t.
She hadn’t even handed it in yet.
