I’d returned to hitting the backspace key more than any other, so I hitSENDbefore I mentioned anything but the weather or my work, and especially not the reason why I fled.
He knew it was an excuse.
Either way, I wanted to make sure you got back home safely.
He definitely knew. My leaving was the proverbial elephant in the room, a big one growing by the minute.
I went to bed that night without checking my e-mail again—an occupational hazard but an emotional safeguard.
Ever since I got back to New York, when I thought back to our moments in the car or seated at Zao’s, I felt myself smiling, my chest warming, and my defense mechanisms melting. There was something about this guy. I liked him, but I shouldn’t.
My mind ticked off all the reasons I shouldn’t like him as I slipped into a hot bath on Wednesday night, wanting to wash myself of my guilt and maybe relax a little while I was at it.
First, I was a fitness editor in New York City. And Layton ... well, he was anything but fit.
Second, I had a big career ahead of me, something my mom never did after meeting my dad. Wasn’t that why I became so convinced I needed the career first ... from watching her? Now she’d changed her tune, but I wasn’t changing.
Third, I couldn’t chase around this earth for a dude, something my mom did for my dad. I hadn’t graduated from high school a year early and college three semesters too soon for this ... to be saddled to the fun-loving guy. When I finally got hitched, it would be to some corporate bigshot, just like Janie said I should.
Wallowing in remorse, I covered my face with my hands, splashing soapy water all over the place.
I’m a bitch. And I’m not even happy being one. I’m allowing my friend to lead me around, telling me what to do.
In the short time I’d known this huggable guy, Layton Griffin, did he ever make me feel like he’d want a woman to sacrifice her dreams for him?
No, but we were certainly nowhere near that stage.
That stupid night.Actually, it was a beautiful night, and I was the stupid one.
“Ugh,” I muttered and sank deeper in the water.
When my phone dinged on the side of the tub, I shook my hand free of water and picked it up. It had been a few hours since I’d checked my messages, and I couldn’t stand not checking anymore.
My in-box was flooded with work e-mails. Some women’s-only marathon was coming to Central Park, and the magazine was going to be a sponsor. Larissa knew I was close with Janie, and of course, she wanted me to ask the Royal to put us all up for the event, plus a few contest winners. I hated when she made me do that—I was a writer, not a concierge—but this was New York and it was all about who you knew.
There were a few more e-mails, all regarding July’s posts, which were already almost filled. We had two more spotlights open, and the pit of writers under me were all clawing to get a feature. So-and-so wanted to interview Katie on her fitness routine.No to that ... nothing to do with Katie.
Another writer wanted to do a feature on dangerous hikes in Colorado.Could be interesting, but would he travel or only do research?
And of course, Layton replied.
What the heck?I squinted and read the subject twice.
FROM:[emailprotected]
TO:[emailprotected]
SUBJECT: Harriette is getting a job
Charli –
Glad you got back to me. I was beginning to wonder if you’d been sold to Mexico.
Weather has been nice here, but the smog gets to you after a while, so don’t be too envious.
And yes, Harriette—my golden—is scouring LA for temp work to reimburse me for my shoes. In the meantime, she’s working her way through a few bones.
She’s a good girl, for the most part. Not much of a guard dog and a bit mouthy, but she’s dependable.
—Layton
There was no PS or funny video, not even a “Lay” for his signature.
Deciding I’d successfully blown off the guy, I sank deeper in shame and the tub.
Although I didn’t feel one bit relaxed.
