My author couldn’t be… She wasn’t…
But thenLeewalked over and took Greta’s still outstretched hand. “Hi. I’m Kaelee Carpenter. How nice to finally meet you in person.”
12Kaelee
In the list of ways today could go tragically wrong, not even a hint existed that “fucked my editor” could be a possibility. She’d known that Marie was a fake name obviously, as was Kaelee’s own shortened version of her name. They’d admitted as much yesterday, and no one was completely honest on apps, and on an app designed to help people maintain their privacy, Kaelee assumed lies were far more common. It was why she didn’t want to talk about jobs or real life with women she met through Sappho’s Kiss.
I was in her apartment.
Of courseMariehad read Toni’s book and seen the show, she’s Toni’s editor. She’smyeditor. Marie isGreta.
This can’t be happening.
“I’m sorry,” Kaelee blurted out, trying to sound less panicked than she was and hoping everyone thought she was just an anxious author. That part was certainly true untilthismoment.It’s hard to find my editor intimidating when she rode my face and begged me to fuck her.Kaelee glanced at Greta, making eye contact in what she hoped was acome with me nowandwe need to talkway.
Kaelee tried to sound calm and asked, “Can I run to the ladies’ first? I should’ve stopped on the way in, but before we get started…”
“Of course!” Greta, who was her actual book editor and somehowalso the woman she was knuckle-deep inside last night, sounded strained.
Do they all know something is wrong right now? Can they hear it?
“Let me show you the way,” Greta said, gesturing to the hallway in the same way she had navigated Kaelee through her apartment building last night.
Emily gave Kaelee a tense look and whispered, “Are you okay?”
“Totally. Can you take a look at the covers while I’m gone? I’d love your thoughts. I just… need a moment to pull my nerves together.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“I’m fine. Ma—My editorcan direct me,” Kaelee choked out. She affixed her plastic smile, the one she’d perfected in the Alden household. Her face felt too tight, as if she could crack and something precious would spill out. It had been so long since she needed to pretend a dumpster fire was okay.
“Right this way,” Greta said, standing in the doorway of the conference room and gesturing toward the hall again. “Ms. Carpenter.”
Do not touch her. Do not even brush against her.
Greta’s heels made no noise on the low-pile, industrial-grade carpet. Voices rose and fell from cubicles; machines hummed softly in the background. The two of them, however, were silent as they walked toward the restroom. They couldn’t talk freely out here as they walked passed cubicles of people, guaranteeing a lack of even the semblance of confidentiality.
A few tense moments later they arrived at a restroom, which was currently empty. Greta jerked open the door with considerably less grace than she normally had. “Here we are.” Greta sounded louder than normal as she added, “I’ll just pop in and check my makeup while we’re here if that’s okay. There are multiple stalls.”
“Sure…?” Kaelee stared at her editor, trying to wrap her mind around how impossibly awkward this was. They were inside a corporate bathroom and smiling tensely.
I had her bent over the sofa last night. Both of us moaning. Watching porn.
Kaelee felt like she was breathing too fast. Panic threatened to rise and carry last night’s meal with it. She was going to puke in the bathroom at her publisher’s office. Kaelee wished she had an anxiety pill just then. In terms of most awkward possible reveal, this was it.
I fucked my editor.
Greta click-clacked her way inside the bathroom. She pushed open all three stalls and verified that they were totally alone. Then she stared at Kaelee. “Oh. My. God. I cannot believe that you… that we…” She was wide-eyed with what looked like the edge of a full-blown panic attack. “I can’t believe that you’reKaelee Carpenter.”
At least Kaelee wasn’t the only one shaken by the fact that they knew each other. There was small comfort in that fact. They were both overwhelmed by the mess they’d found themselves in.
“I am so sorry,” Greta blurted out. “I had no idea. I mean, Lee, Kaelee, I guess I should’ve said, ‘Hi, are you by any chance an author?’ But do you knowhow many LeesI’ve met?”
“No…?”
“Exactly. A lot. There were a lot.” Greta leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. She opened her eyes and added, “It’s such a nongendered name and—”
“Hey.” Kaelee stepped in front of her, too close to be casual, and asked, “Are you going to freak out for a while yet? Because I bet we don’t havethatlong until someone checks on us. Both your assistant and my agent could tell something was off.”
