I send it via email then snap my laptop shut, sliding it into my bag. Smoothing my hands over my dress, I glance at Geoff anxiously. “Okay, how do I look?”
He appraises my outfit. “Like a woman who wasn’t secretly hiding a boyfriend from her new boss?”
“Perfect,” I say, pulling on my coat. “That’s just what I was going for.”
I slip out the front door into the cold morning air, tugging my scarf up around my neck as I wander through the Village towards the subway. It’s so icy that my nose is numb, but I still look around at the row houses and brick buildings with a smile. I love this part of the city, and seeing it again just reminds me that it’s where I’m meant to be. I can’t believe I ever doubted that.
As I ride the subway up to Midtown, anxiety burrows under my skin. I’m not sure I want to surprise Justin with a visit, but this needs to be done. I want to fight for the job I earned.
If I’m not too late.
When I step into the elevator and press the button for the fifteenth floor, sandwiched between four other people with a visitor pass slung around my neck, my gut is turning itself inside out. I ride the elevator, picking at a nail until it bleeds. The ping of the opening doors sends my heart skittering, and for a second I stand, frozen.
What am I doing? Justin won’t want to see me. I’ll probably be escorted off the premises by a security guard, my face scarlet with humiliation. And what if Mel’s in there? She no doubt knows how spectacularly things ended with Michael, and will be more than happy to rub salt into the wound.
But as the doors begin to slide closed again, determination grips me and I lunge forward, slipping through the gap. I came here for a reason and I’m not turning back now.
Get it together, Alex. Game face on.
At reception I have to give my name, and the woman tells Justin over the phone that it’s me. I’m surprised when she ushers me down a corridor towards his office, instead of asking me to leave. That has to be a good sign.
As I knock on Justin’s door, my pulse is thumping in my ears.
Right. I can do this.
“Alex, come in.”
I enter the room and Justin gestures to the chair opposite his desk. I sit, taking a deep breath. Any minute now he’s going to tell me how disappointed he is, and I’m going to need to do some serious groveling. But that’s okay, I knew that. That’s why I’m here.
“I’m glad you came in,” he says, pushing his chair out and coming to lean against the front of his desk. “Mel spoke to me.”
I shrink. Here it comes.
“God, she’s a nightmare,” he mutters, and confusion weaves through me.
“Er, what?”
“She gave me this whole speech about how you’re screwing around with her ex.” He raises his eyes to the ceiling. I’m about to begin my groveling when he shakes his head, offering me a smile. “Anyway, did you see my email? We’ve been so thrilled with your articles.”
Wait. What?
“My articles?”
“Yes.” He passes a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Our readers have really connected with your voice and your sense of humor. I think it will make a great regular feature.”
“Regular feature?”
He gives me a strange look. “Are you okay?”
“Justin—” I hesitate, wanting to make sure I’m understanding him. “Are you still offering me the column?”
“What? Of course.”
“I just thought that Mel—”
“No.” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “I ignore her most of the time.”
“Oh.” I frown, puzzled. “I figured she would convince you not to give it to me, just like she convinced you to read my blog in the first place.”
