He pursed his lips. “Can’t say that I love how he treats you.”
I shrugged. “He’s my boss.”
“I can excuse his being demanding, but I can’t excuse him being a dick,” David said. “Do you like the new position you’re in?”
“I like it fine.”
“But you don’t love it,” he stated.
“Like you said, it’s a job.”
“How about doing some writing? You liked it once. You might find you like it again.”
Geez. Memory of an elephant, this guy. “I do write sometimes.”
“I know. As I’ve told you, I’ve read some stuff on theChicago Mwebsite.”
“I’m better at editing.”
“You can be good at both,” he pointed out. “And what I read was excellent.”
“You only think that because I’m sleeping with you.” I laughed. “And how can you tell from a few stupid articles?”
He gave me a stern, slightly scary look. “Do not downgrade yourself.”
My smile fell away. I agreed that was a bad habit, one that David was unlikely to let me keep getting away with. So I nodded. “Okay. I won’t.”
“What does Beman think of your articles?” he asked.
“Well . . . he’s complimentary.”
David inclined his head. “And do you think he’s just being nice?”
“God, no,” I said. “I’m sure he’d relish telling me otherwise.”
“Just because your mom’s a writer, it wouldn’t mean you were following in her footsteps.”
“I know . . .” I said, but my voice wavered.
“Know what I think?” he asked. “That you don’t want to give it a fair try because you’ve spent your life vowing not to turn into her.”
They were easy dots to connect, though I’d never thought of it in such black-and-white terms—mostly because I hadn’t considered writing an option before. “She used to tell me I wasn’t any good at it,” I admitted. “And it hurt.”
Disgust marred his handsome features. “Don’t listen to that shit.”
“I grew up thinking it was true.”
“You say Leanore was jealous of everyone, even you for getting your dad’s attention.” He stretched his jaw, then rubbed it. “Demeaning you made her feel in control while putting you in your place. I get the feeling whatever your hobby had been, she would’ve shit on it.”
My eyes drifted between us. I’d never had anyone try so hard to figure me out. David wanted to show me the reasons I shut down, discredited myself, retreated, hid behind a mask—why I’d created the mask in the first place. He’d been doing it all week, and it was both unnerving and exhilarating. It was hard for me to admit, but, quietly, I said, “I think you’re right.”
“I know I’m right, and I want you to prove her wrong.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that if I started writing, people would make the connection between her and me. She’s Leanore Germaine, which isn’t exactly a common surname. I’d be in her shadow.”
“Then use Dylan,” he said.
At the unexpected suggestion, my breath caught in my throat.Olivia Dylan.I tried it out in my head. I liked it. I liked it too much for someone who was still legally married to another man. Ilovedit.
