“Yeah, I know.” I raised my arms over my head, stretching. “I’m trying to get this column ready to send in. Trying to tell the Faith story without giving away too many incriminating details isn’t easy.”
“Ah. That’s the one you’re working on?” Sophia smirked. “Can’t wait to read it.”
“Why would you bother? You and Preston already got all the ugly details.” I dropped my head onto the table. “You had to listen to me crying over my Halloween beer.”
“You weren’t crying. You were just bitching.” Sophia picked up my coffee mug and replaced it with another one—filled. “You had a lucky escape, my boy. Imagine if you had started dating her and then found out later what a lying, scheming wench she was. At least you didn’t have much time or energy invested in her.”
“That’s true.” I stared at my laptop screen. “Actually, you’ve given me a good idea for how to wrap up this column. Shake off the dust and start again, right?”
Sophia sighed. “Sure, Harry. Start again. Or maybe—” She stopped and gave her head a little shake. “Whatever. You know best.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the coffee.” I settled down to finish my work, pulling out headphones to drown out the noise of the shop and limit my distractions.
I could have pretended that I agreed with Potential #1. It wouldn’t have been that difficult to go on the date and find out if we had enough in common that we might be able to overcome our Christmas differences. But in the end, investing more time and energy in someone who can’t appreciate the wonder of the season just wasn’t a good idea.
Plus, is there anyone out there who appreciates feeling played?
And so . . . onward, my friends. I’ve decided to nix any more mall love connections, because it makes my work environment kind of awkward when they go wrong. (Ask me why I’m now boycotting the food court.) I’m looking for more opportunities to meet women, so send me your ideas.
With a long exhale, I ran the column through my editing software and then attached it to an email and sent it to Laurie, Vivian’s editor. One more week in the books.
Taking off the headphones, I reached for my coffee and drained the mug. Sophia was such a good, supportive friend. She hadn’t really even harassed me about what had gone down with Faith. She hadn’t saidI told you soeven once. I was lucky to have Preston and Sophia in my life, and I’d do well to remember that. Yees might come and go, but my buds were forever.
With that sentiment swelling my heart, I meandered up to the counter to return my mug. The shop was fairly busy, but there were extra people working today, too, which meant Sophia wasn’t too slammed. I spotted her standing next to a table, talking with a woman, both of their heads bent over a computer tablet.
“Hey, Soph. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m leaving my mug at the counter.” I lifted the empty cup. “Thanks again for my refill.”
“Sure. Here, I’ll take that.” Sophia reached for the cup. “Do you need anything else?”
“Uh . . . no, I guess not.” I lounged against a stool. “Or if I do, I can wait until you’re finished.”
The woman sitting across from Sophia turned her head, her gaze sweeping over me from top to toes.
“I’m in the middle of something right now. With a client. Can I talk to you later?” Sophia drilled me with anI’m-working-so-go-away-and-leave-me-aloneglare.
“Uh, yeah.” Curiosity made me pause. It almost felt as though Sophia didn’t want me to know what she was doing. “Or I can just wait over at my table.”
“Oh, why doesn’t your friend join us, Sophia?” The woman nudged an empty chair out from beneath the table. “Maybe another set of eyes would be a good idea.”
Sophia didn’t look happy, but she shrugged her acquiescence.
As I sat down, her client offered me a hand.
“Hi, there.” Her voice was low and rich, and she had the most vivid green eyes I’d ever seen. They were offset by her deep chestnut hair, which fell in long waves down her back. “I’m Tyla.”
“Hi, Tyla.” I clasped her hand in mine. “I’m Harry. A friend of Sophia’s. Good to meet you.”
Sophia looked like she was clenching her jaw, but she finally managed to say something. “Harry, Tyla’s the client I was telling you about—the one I met at the wedding I shot. We worked on her pictures last weekend, and I was just showing her what I’d gotten.”
“Cool. Can I see?” I reached out to adjust the tablet so that I could take a look, but Sophia quickly stopped me.
“No, sorry. I’d prefer you didn’t.”
Tyla grinned first at Sophia and then at me. “Oh, I don’t mind, Sophia. I’m sure . . . Harry, here, isn’t into corporate espionage.”
Sophia glared at me as if I’d done something wrong. “All the same, I’d rather that he didn’t look at them now. I think he has something else to do, anyway.”
“Not really.” I offered her a sunny grin. “I just sent in my column for the week, and I don’t have a shift at Allister’s tonight. I’m completely footloose and fancy-free.”
