“So, back to you,” he says. “Whatcha gonna do?”
“Try therapy, I guess.”
“Aw-right.” He taps his fist to mine. “Just like Peabo sang—What you won’t do for love.”
The house feels impossibly quiet after an evening at Dee’s. Jordyn and Stiles were there, and the food and conversation flowed with the kind of easy camaraderie that only comes with deep affection.
Dee’s twins had been passed around like little hors d’oeuvres, everyone wanting a cuddle and to nibble their chubby cheeks. We celebrated the success of my first commission and Mick’s first novel, a dark fantasy. I loved capturing all the moments oncamera. It had been a lovely night, and I spent every minute wishing Chaz was there. He would have naturally fit in, razzing with the men and charming my girlfriends.
One day soon, I remind myself, closing my eyes and trying to block out the constant image of his dimpled smile. It doesn’t work. Nonetheless, this is what we both need: space, distance, and a little time to come back together stronger. With our baggage a little lighter.
After dinner, I asked Dee if her therapist might have a recommendation for me—someone who specializes in anxiety. It had taken some effort to get past the ingrained keep-your-dirty-laundry-private mindset.
“Progress,” I murmur, changing into sweats and a hoodie. In the living room, I settle onto the couch with my heated blanket wrapped around my shoulders and laptop resting across my thighs. I’m checking my email when the phone rings. Chloe’s name flashes on the screen. Sophia had given me her number this morning, and I’d left her a message. It was probably a long shot, but worth a try.
“Hi, Chloe,” I answer. “Thanks for calling me back.”
“Soph told me what you’re trying to do. I feel awful,” she says, guilt lacing her voice. “I should’ve gone to the party with her. Maybe if I had?—”
“Chloe, don’t,” I interrupt gently. “You’re not to blame for what happened. The only person responsible is Drew Marshall.”
She exhales a shaky breath. “I was shocked, but then again, I shouldn’t have been.”
“Why’s that?”
“Just noise in the industry, nothing specific, you know?”
“Yes, I know what you mean. But is there anything you can think of we might be able to use?”
She lets out a dry laugh. “Guys like him are careful. If you’re looking for a smoking gun, I’m guessing it’s buried under a mountain of NDAs. Soph said she had to sign one.”
“She did, but even NDAs have limits. Is there anything, anything at all?”
“Well,” Chloe hesitates. “There’s this one woman I met at the conference. She’s at Crave Marketing now, but she used to work for Drew Marshall before he left to join Ignite. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when I asked if she was going to his TED Talk, she made a face that said,No way. I didn’t ask about it. I wish I had or that it had occurred to me when Soph was invited to the Ignite party. I keep replaying it. Everything Sophia described. I feel so responsible. She was my guest.”
Everything Sophia described. Could it be?
“Chloe, I know you feel guilty?—”
“I do.”
“It’s not your fault, but I need you to be honest with me. Did you write an anonymous letter to HR claiming to be an employee who witnessed the events at the party?”
Silence.
“Chloe?”
“Will I get in trouble?”
“No. I’m not going to tell anyone, but I need to know if the claim is real or fabricated.”
“I thought it could help. Soph had nothing to do with it,” she quickly adds. “I did it after she left.”
“I understand why you did it, but officially, making a false complaint is a big no-no. It can have serious consequences. Never do that again. Unofficially, it stirred things up, and made Marshall nervous. Now, the company is aware. But what really matters is finding out who else this might have happened to. Do you have the number of the woman at Crave?”
“Yeah, we exchanged contact info for networking.”
“Will you give it to me?”
