The Trouble with Love
Page 60

“Said your article wasn’t turned in with the rest of ours on Friday,” Grace said, her voice curious.
“Probably because the damn thing wasn’t done yet,” Emma muttered.
But she didn’t blame Grace for being puzzled. Emma always turned in her stories on time. They all did. Well, except for Julie, who could get away with pretty much anything simply by being Julie.
Riley put her phone away, set the package of doughnut holes on the desk, and brushed the sugar off her fingers as she looked at Emma.
Emma managed not to squirm. Barely.
“Do you need help with the story? Want to talk it out?” Riley asked.
Emma bit her lip. Truth time. Because if you couldn’t tell your friends, who could you tell?
“I finished my story,” she blurted out. “Early this morning.”
“Well, that’s good,” Grace said. “Are you worried he’s going to chew you out for being a couple days late, because—”
“I didn’t write about Cassidy,” Emma interrupted.
Riley sat down in her chair and leaned forward. “Wait, you decided not to write the story about exes?”
Emma scratched her nose. “No, I did write that, I just didn’t write about…him. I did the twelve days of exes minus—”
“Minus the one who mattered,” Grace said quietly. Her voice was gentle and not at all accusatory, but Emma covered her face with her hands in shame.
“I couldn’t do it!” she wailed. “I couldn’t put it out there for everyone to read.”
“Sweetie, it’s okay,” Riley cooed, coming beside her to pet her head. “Just because you write for Stiletto doesn’t mean you’re obligated to spill your guts for the world to see.”
“You guys did,” Emma said, looking at her friends. “All three of you were brave.”
“We didn’t write about our respective love lives because we were brave, Emma,” Grace said. “We did it because in some way, for us, at that time, it was cathartic. That doesn’t mean that it’s going to work that way for you and Cassidy.”
“There is no me and Cassidy,” Emma said glumly.
Riley gently poked Emma’s cheek. “Really? Because I know orgasm-induced glow when I see it and your complexion is looking quite dewy this morning.”
Emma ignored this. Good—no, excellent—sex with Cassidy was the least of her worries. That had never been their problem.
She leaned down, rummaging around in her bag until she came up with the blue folder where she always kept her in-progress articles. She held it up.
“So what do I do?”
“The story is done?” Grace asked.
“Yup.”
“It’s just Cassidy-free,” Grace clarified.
Emma nodded.
Riley shrugged. “So? Tell him that. He can’t make you write about him. It’d be a repulsive abuse of power, and that’s not what he’s about.”
“And yet,” Grace said, holding up a finger, “he was the one who had her write this in the first place. That right there was a power play.”
“True. But he won’t push it,” Riley said. She glanced at Emma. “Not now.”
“He won’t?” Emma asked hopefully.
“I don’t think so,” Riley said thoughtfully. “I think he got what he wanted.”
“Did you finally think of a word that rhymes with pussy?”
“No, damn it.” Then her friend smiled. “Look, I’m not going to say that you two haven’t been dripping some sort of strange sexual tension since I met you. But I don’t think that was his goal, either. I think he just wanted you to see him.”
“Naked,” Grace chimed in. “He wanted you to see him naked.”
“Definitely,” Riley mused. “But not just that.”
“Okay, enough with this,” Emma said, waving in a circular motion at Riley’s face. “What’s with the strange oracle vagueness? Just spit it out already.”
“Cassidy wanted to get your attention,” Riley clarified. “That’s why he had you write the article. And now that he has it? I don’t think he’s going to push you to write about him. Hell, he may actually prefer that you don’t. Besides, it’s not like you guys’ history is any big secret around here.”
“Okay, hold on,” Emma said. “You’re making it seem like he and I are getting back together. Cassidy and I did sleep together, but that’s all it was.”
Riley shrugged. “Fair enough. But a word of advice?”
“Oh, no,” Grace muttered.
“What?” Emma asked warily.
“When you tell him that you cut him out of your article while writing about eleven other guys you’ve slept with?”
“Yessssss?” Emma asked, when Riley didn’t continue.
Her friend reached down and quickly flicked one of the buttons on Emma’s shirt, revealing a bit more cleavage.
“There,” Riley said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “That ought to help the matter.”
Emma rolled her eyes and stood, tapping her blue folder against her palm. “Okay. I’m heading up to his office. Wish me luck.”
Grace nodded in the direction of Emma’s boobs. “Keep your shirt like that, and I don’t think you’re going to need it.”
Emma gave them both an exasperated look before she walked out of the office and headed for the elevator.