“We broke up,” I finally manage to choke out. And combined with the cryptic DM from Seth and the surprise phone call from my mother, it doesn’t even feel like the worst of my problems right now. But it is the easiest one to say out loud. “He broke up with me. He dumped me.”
“On your engagement night?” Corey shrieks, her voice so shrill I wince.
The room explodes with various cries of outrage and disbelief, every euphemism for male genitalia rocketing around the room so fast my already wobbly head spins.
Finally, a firm set of hands lands on my shoulders, shooing Tessa aside. Natasha’s pale but bronzed, wrinkle-free face hovers inches away from mine. She has to squat to lower herself to my eye level. “Lana. Ignore everyone else in this room and tell me what happened.”
And because I am nothing if not a dutiful employee, I open my mouth and spill everything, from the restaurant to the martinis to the blinding hangover. I leave out the DM from Seth and the second wave of drunk therapy it inspired, as well as the call just now with my mom—there’s a limit to the amount of pity I’m willing to subject myself to. When I finish up with my word vomit—thankfully avoiding any real vomit—Natasha guides me to a chair and pushes me down.
Everyone else has already found a seat by this point, and somehow they manage to stay quiet until Natasha takes her spot at the head of the table. She remains standing, towering over all of us.
“What a fucking dick,” Corey mumbles from my left.
Tessa, on my right, reaches over and squeezes my hand. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
I give them a small smile before turning my attention to Natasha. I’ve completely derailed this meeting with my lack of an engagement, and despite the concerned look she throws me, I know she’s anxious to reveal her big surprise.
“Well,” Natasha starts, her sharp blond bob swinging. “I know this is not how we expected this meeting to start, but we do need to get on with things. Let’s get through pitches before I give you all the big news.” Her voice is strident and commanding, and anyone who didn’t know her would find her urge to move on callous. But Natasha has known me since I started here as an intern my junior year of college, which means she has seen me through two previous breakups, and she knows what I need most in this situation is to get on with work as usual.
I manage a slight nod and then I zone out. There’s noway my brain can process pitches and new ideas from the team right now, so I sink down in my seat and let the presence of my work family have a calming effect on me.
Tessa kicks it off with her most recent list of reviews. She started around the same time I did and holds my dream position: writing about books and entertainment. If it were anyone else, I’d hate her and be plotting her demise, but Tessa is basically the nicest person I know. She’s unassumingly gorgeous, with bright-red hair and freckled white skin and these amazing emerald-green eyes.
After Tessa and me, Rob has been withAlways Take Fountainthe longest. He’s our sportswriter, in his midthirties, Korean American, and as shy and stoic as he is hot. He and Tessa are my OTP, though I’d never tell either of them that because they might spontaneously combust from a combination of mortification and secret desire.
The first time Corey walked into theATFoffice five years ago, I assumed she had been hired to make me feel bad about myself. She’s a stunning white woman, tall and blond with legs like Naomi Smalls. She’s also witty and smart and will absolutely cut a bitch. Despite our being near opposites, with her love for fashion and trendy social life, she quickly became one of my work besties.
James, sitting across the table from me and shooting me lots of winks and smiles, is the big brother of the crew. Literally and figuratively. He’s got these luminescent golden-brown eyes and dark brown skin. He’s six foot five and built like a linebacker, but despite looking like he could play pro sports, he’s our resident foodie and restaurant critic. Ioriginally started hanging out with him so he’d take me out to all the hot spots either for free or on the company’s dime, but it didn’t take long for us to build a genuine friendship.
I look at each of them as they go around the table, pitching their stories and giving updates on current projects. I don’t process their words, just find comfort in their smiles as I take small sips from the cup of water someone thoughtfully placed in front of me. Ever so slowly, my stomach begins to settle.
If only I could say the same for my heart.
Natasha’s voice cuts into my internal dialogue, saving me from myself. “Lana, normally I’d give you a day or two to pull yourself together and give me a new pitch, but...” She gives me a look that’s not entirely sympathetic and finally takes a seat, letting her unspoken expectations complete her sentence. “You know your dating articles bring in the traffic we need. What can we expect from our resident relationship guide?”
“Wow, too soon, Natasha.” Corey pats my arm.
“Would you rather talk just the two of us?” Natasha crosses her arms and leans on the clear Plexiglas table, her stare pinning me down and telling me in no uncertain terms that heartbreak or not, it’s time to get back to work.
I shake my head. Having my friends surrounding me is the only thing keeping me together at this point. “No. I’m okay. Not exactly brimming with dating and relationship pitches right now, but I’m okay.” And it’s not true, obviously, not even close. But I will hold it together for the sake ofwork, and to save some tiny sliver of face in front of these people whom I love and respect.
And maybe, work-wise, this can actually be a good thing. I’ve wanted out of the dating game—writing about it, anyway—for months, even years, now. I want to write about things I’m passionate about, and I’m not all that passionate about relationships. But dating articles always bring in clicks, whichATFneeds more and more of these days, and I’m incapable of saying no to Natasha. Perhaps the silver lining of being dumped by my would-be fiancé is finally getting the kinds of assignments I actually want to write.
“She’ll come up with something fantastic. She always does.” It’s probably the closest Tessa has ever come to standing up to Natasha, and the gesture from my timid, people-pleasing friend soothes my battered and bruised heart.
“Do you have anything you’d like me to explore?” I can tell by the look on Natasha’s face that she knows exactly what she wants me to write. Already ten steps ahead, she’s just waiting for me to ask for it.
“I do, actually.” She sits up even straighter, smoothing the already wrinkle-free front of her chic gray blazer. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet with me alone?”
“I’m sure.” The words come out much more confident than I feel. Because I know that look in Natasha’s eyes. She’s got a plan. A plan I’m probably not going to like.
“I want you to write about being single.”
“Okay?” Other than laying out my heartbreak for the entire city of Los Angeles and the internet at large to see, that doesn’t sound so terrible. Definitely not the exact assignment I’d choose for myself, but writing about beingsingle does bring me one small step away from the relationship beat. Maybe it’s a necessary first step.
“And about staying single.” She levels me with a piercing look. “Which means you would need to stay so.”
“Can she make you do that?” Corey mutters next to me.
