“Yeah.” I rest my elbows on the desk. “Truth is, I wanted to say something when he came in here tonight. Only I couldn’t do that without talking to you first.”
“You did? Really?”
She sounds surprised and maybe a little hopeful. Now I regret even more that we’re having this conversation over the phone and not face-to-face so I could read her expressions and body language.
“Really. Why are we being so damn furtive? We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“You’re right. We’re not.” She hesitates, and I can picture her twisting a lock of her hair around her finger like she does when she’s deep in thought. “But I’m not sure Jake will see it that way.”
“I’ll make him see it that way,” I say with more confidence than I feel. I push back from my desk and stand. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”
“Wait.” Her voice has gone from surprised to panicked. “You’re going to tell him now?”
“Why not? You said it had to be soon, right? And what’s sooner than the present?”
“Do you want me to come over there? I could hop on the subway and be there in twenty.”
“No.” I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “This is something I have to do on my own.”
“Let me guess. The bro code.”
“What do you know about the bro code?”
“I’ve seenThe Hangover.” She pauses again, and I can hear traffic noises in the background. “So what are you going to tell him? That we’re—hooking up?”
Hooking up.The words sound wrong coming out of her mouth. Cheap. Dirty.
I perch my ass on the corner of my desk and rub the back of my neck with my free hand. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“You tell me.”
I want to, but I also don’t want to scare her off. So I go for the soft sell. “I hope it’s a little bit more than that. It is for me. But we don’t have to define it, or put a label to it, if you’re not ready.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell Jake? That we’re not putting a label on it?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“He might not like it. You might wind up with a black eye. Or worse.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
For you.
“I’m not sure I am. I’d hate to see that pretty face all banged up.”
My hand moves from my neck to scrub across my jaw. The end-of-day stubble scratches my palm. “You think my face is pretty?”
“Don’t be an ass,” she says, laughing. “You’ve got a mirror. You know you’re good-looking.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it once in a while.”
“Just call me when the dust has settled and you’re on your way home. That way I can make sure I’ve got an ice pack and some ibuprofen handy.”
“Will do.” I push myself off the desk and start toward the door. “But I won’t need them. Jake’s been my best friend for over twenty years. He might be surprised at first, maybe even pissed, but he’ll get over it.”
He has to. Because I’m not backing down. I’m not going to let some stupid unwritten bro code stop me from seeing where this thing with Brie is going.
I end the call and head down the hall to Jake’s office. I don’t bother knocking—he never does—and waltz in, unannounced. He’s standing with his back to the door at the mini bar, pouring himself what looks like a scotch.
