Grant shrugged. “He’s not wrong, is he?”
“Of course he is,” I said. “You’re recusing yourself from the article.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“Well, he should’ve done more research before throwing you under the bus—his own idol.” My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen. It was a text from an old college friend, sending me a TikTok video.TheTikTok video.
It had 53k views.
Over the next two hours, more texts and emails came in—to Grant and me—and the TikTok video shot to 204k views.
“I’ve got to call Russ,” Grant said. “His flight arrived in New York a half hour ago, and this is what he’ll be coming back to.” He took out his phone.
My own started buzzing again, and my stomach plummeted at the sight of the caller ID. “It’s Vantive.”
Grant grimaced sympathetically and headed for the door. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
I pulled in a slow, shaky breath, then answered.
TWENTY-NINE
I shutmy eyes and rubbed my temples. I was glad the call was over. Grant hadn’t returned yet, and I got up to look for him, eager to know his boss’s reaction.
I found him in the Darcy & Elizabeth room, but his back was to me. The glass walls contained the conversation, but his stance told me the call was a tense one.
Half of me wanted to go into the room and hold his hand, but a quick glance over my shoulder at all the people in the Love Pit convinced me not to. Besides, he needed privacy.
I watched him for another second, simultaneously marveling that the attractive, capable man I was looking at wantedmeand wondering how his feelings for me would ever survive the fallout of this situation. How long before he realized that what we had—whatever it was—wasn’t worth all of this mess?
At the very least, both of us were going to need a pick-me-up to get us through the rest of the day. Grant had done that for me when I was spiraling; it only seemed fair to return the favor.
I turned decisively, snatched my purse from my office, and headed to Dawson’s at a pace that could’ve qualified me for the stiletto speed-walking Olympics.
If donuts couldn’t fix this day, nothing could.
Mr. Dawson, not Jill, was behind the counter when I arrived, a much-needed win after a hellish morning. His cheeks were red and his forehead glistened with sweat as he smiled at me with a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes.
“I’ll be right with you, Miss West,” he said, scurrying out of view to the back.
A couple minutes later, he re-emerged, balancing two trays of fresh donuts.
“Sorry,” he said breathlessly.
I smiled. “No need to apologize when you’re bringing out fresh maple bars. I’ll take two, please. Actually…make it four.”
He gave a polite sound of acknowledgement.
“Busy?” I asked.
His eyes widened as if to sayyou have no ideaas he set the trays in the display case.“I’m grateful for it, of course, but I’d be even more grateful if I had some help.”
“Where’s Jill?”
He frowned. “She had to…go home.”
“Oh,” I said, annoyed at the way this revelation didn’t bother me in the least.
