I’ve never handled that well.
“Make it right, would you?”
Sterling nods.“I’ll talk to Monica.”
I give in to the urgent buzz under my skin and get up to pace.“No.”
Their attention follows me.Whatever.I can’t … let them see the anxiety.I need to breathe.I really wish this room had windows.
“She’s made it perfectly clear she doesn’t respect me, and I won’t work like that.I don’t need your pity, and if the only reason I have a job is because the great Sterling Ross commanded it, I’ll spend the rest of my career wondering if every opportunity is simply someone trying to get into your good graces.”
They share a look, and I know how it sounds.The naive little girl, trying to be a grown adult in a big, bad world.I’ve heard it all before.
I fall back into a chair.“Look, it’s nice that you want to do the honorable thing here, but?—”
Lucky lets out a laugh that quickly morphs into a cough when Sterling elbows him.It’s the most …humanI’ve ever seen Sterling, like I’m looking at a different version of him.
This can’t be the real him.He’s too expressive, too responsive.
He’skneeling at my feet.
“Uh …”
“Mia.”That’s it.One word.Laid between us as if it answers anything.Said like it answers everything.
“What is going on?”I ask.
His glasses do nothing to limit the impact of all that blue—nothing—and it’s not fair.How dare he look at me this way, after all this time!It’s all I’ve wanted.
“You’re usually more observant than this,” he says.
And he’s right; I’m never blindsided like this because I’m a damn good reporter, but how does he even know that?He doesn’t know me.
When was he going to tell me how well he knew me?
“I thought you hated me.Now you’re looking at me with stars in your eyes.It doesn’t make any sense.Why have you been pushing me away?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
Protect me … right.By staying as far away as possible.By making me think he hated me.It worked.
The chair drags against the carpet as I stand.“No, you’re trying to control the situation by hiding.You’ve made a career out of exposing everyone else’s secrets, but you can’t handle your own.Is that it?”
He pushes up to stand.It puts him above me again.A tall tower, far from anyone’s reach.
“All right, you’d like honesty?”he says.“I think you’re scared.”
Of course I am.I’m terrified.Is that all he’s got?
He ducks down, trying to catch my eyes.“Two years of writing articles you hate.Why?”
“Monica would have?—”
“There are other papers.You could have gone anywhere you wanted?—”
Anywhere?Thereisnowhere else.
“No, I couldn’t.”
