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“You’re connected to your passion. Sometimes it feels like Alex is putting check inbox on his never-ending to-do list, proving he’s his own person.”

“You knew him first?” He nods. “You know all the skeletons.”

“Yes, but those are his tales to tell. We met after college as he was breaking away on his own. I was kicking around the Washington desk. It was his first year at the State Department. Then he got poached for the campaign, and I boarded the same bus for close to a year. We’ve shared many late nights.”

“Do you play tennis?” He grins. Joan mentioned it to me.

“Not quite your level, but I’m sure I could kick your ass.”

“I’ll be back in New York in three weeks.”

“It’s on, Ms. Famous Romance Author.” He wrings his hands like a villain, and I laugh.

“Writer.” I wink at him as we pull into the station.

Jerrod’s driving Alex’s DC car. The door opens, and there’s a rush of his woodsy, sandalwood, cut grass, and soap bubble smell. “I see your dreamy face. You know this car.”

I’m sure he knows we almost had sex in this car. I pull down the sun visor and check my reflection. I remove my baseball hat and smooth my low ponytail. I apply lipstick and a touch of concealer.

Jerrod interrupts my beauty routine. “Doesn’t matter. He won’t care.” I settle into the seat with butterflies in my stomach and lusty thoughts in my head. I’m two and a half hours early. The train was fast. I hope I’m a good surprise.

* * *

Jerrod brings in bags of takeout, tosses them on a bunch of tables, and disappears. Ari takes off to find Mikey. My skin prickles as I look around the studio Alex built. I was a fan long before I hopped into bed with him.

Two years ago, Extended Media was five friends who had an idea and didn’t want to answer to anyone. Now I’m wearing merchandise emblazoned with their vision. They’ve made themselves relevant and thoughtful pundits who somehow walk the line of both sides. My head snaps toward a girl who interrupts my thoughts.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Her brown, bushy tortured hair makes her look taller than her stature. The statement glasses announce her insistence on being relevant. Her brown eyes blaze at me. Her jeans are too tight and her red blouse too low. Her outfit screams look at me while the rest of her seems to be retreating. Her lipstick makes me want to give her a hug and a makeover. She’s trying, and I want to help her. She doesn’t need to push so hard to be pretty. I see her underneath her costume.

I say, “Can you tell me where Alex Bishop’s office is?”

She scowls. “He’s in show prep. We don’t disturb them during prep.”

“I simply need a quick sec to talk to him.”

“Not unless you or I have a written notification.” She holds out her hands.

“I’ll text him.”

“Phone’s charging in the back. You’re welcome to wait in the lobby. I’ll let him know at first break around nine.”

“Hold up. You want me to sit in the lobby for two hours? Let me text Jerrod.” She’s kinda bitchy.

“Jerrod’s on an errand.” The catty intern tries to push me out.

I remove her hand. “Please don’t touch me. I’m Jerrod’s errand. Where’s Mikey?”

“You mean Mr. Michael Day?”

“Or Ari?” She’s bum-rushing me to the lobby.

“You know a lot of our names, but no one’s available to identify you.”

“You haven’t asked anyone to identify me. I’m Tess McGuire. Ask someone. Stop touching me.” She’s socially awkward and invading my space again.

“Tess McGuire means nothing to me and not enough for anyone to come and identify you.” The bitch places her hand on my back.

“Hey! Hands off! I’m not an obsessed fan or a troll. I’m a… well, I’m Alex’s... Jerrod brought me here.” I shrug, having no idea how to end that sentence.