Page 75 of The Love Hack

Now he did push me away, but not roughly. He sort of turned me around and held me at arm’s length, looking at me.

‘Do I want to come to your sister’s birthday party?’ he echoed.

I nodded, feeling a dark foreshadowing of what was to come, wishing I could unsay what I’d said and go back to how things had been a few seconds before.

‘Is that what you think this is?’ he asked. ‘The kind of thing where I meet your family and buy you flowers and in a year or so we shack up and have a couple of kids?’

‘No! I never thought that. I just thought…’

‘Lucy.’ I remembered how it had made me feel the first time he said my name, how it had felt when he called me Princess. I didn’t feel that way now. ‘I thought you understood. This was never going to be a boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I thought you were on the same page as me. I don’t want a woman. I’ve my career to think about. I don’t have time for that. But I enjoy the occasional fuck. I thought that was what you wanted, too.’

‘I do.’ My tone was almost wheedling. ‘But I thought we could see each other sometimes, too.’

‘Well, we can’t. Jesus. A girl like you, I thought you’d be grateful for what you could get. Seems I was wrong.’

‘I am grateful’ – Well, you shouldn’t be! screamed the voice I’d been ignoring, outraged – ‘I just wanted…’

‘More. Well, you’re not getting it. It’s this or nothing – take your pick.’

To my shame, I heard myself say, ‘It’s okay. Forget I said anything. We can carry on as we are.’

His hands released their grip on my shoulders and he sat up. ‘I don’t think so. This isn’t what you’re after – you’ve made that clear. It’s enough, now, before you get yourself pregnant or something and try to trap me that way.’

I was so appalled and stung by his words I was unable to come out with any of my own. My face flaming, I struggled into my clothes and left, without saying goodbye. Somehow, I made my way home, and it was only once the door was closed behind me that I allowed myself to start crying.

And now here I was, back in my Brooklyn AirBnB, once again returning home in tears. I flung myself down on the bed, my whole body limp with shock and fatigue. I didn’t think I’d be able to fall asleep, but somehow I did – only to jerk awake again a couple of hours later, my heart hammering in panic.

I had a deadline. I was meant to have filed an Ask Adam column the previous day, and I’d completely forgotten about it. It would be the start of a working day in London now. If the subs hadn’t already gone to Greg and asked when they could expect to receive my copy, they’d be doing so any moment.

And I still hadn’t picked out a question to respond to, never mind written Adam’s carefully considered response.

Shit. I sat bolt upright in bed and switched on the light, all prospect of sleep now vanished. Greg had been generous enough to allow me to work remotely from New York on the basis of the personal crisis involving my sister, which I’d explained to him as thoroughly as I could while omitting as much detail as I could get away with.

By missing my deadline, I’d not only be putting my career in jeopardy but also taking advantage of his kindness, and there was no way I wanted either of those things to happen.

If you get the sack, you’ll never see Ross again. The thought turned up unbidden.

Which would probably be no bad thing, the other part of my mind argued back. And anyway, you might crack an invite to his and Bryony’s wedding, so you’d get to see him then.

Shut up! You’re no help.

But actually, my internal conflict reminded me that I had a lifeline. I’d posted the problem Adam had received from the anonymous correspondent I felt sure was Zack into GenBot 2.0, just a couple of days before. I remembered arguing with the bot, trying to make it see my side of the story and change its normal diplomatic response to something that more closely reflected my own indignation about what Zack – if it even was Zack – was planning on doing.

And now I knew he wasn’t just planning – he was actually doing it. I’d seen him kissing Brooke. If I was absolutely sure that Anon was Zack, I’d feel obliged to have Adam tell him exactly what I thought. But I wasn’t sure; it was only a suspicion, albeit a pretty cast-iron one.

That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that I had a duty and a deadline. It was time to put my feelings second and my career first, not time to burden my colleagues with additional stress and a late night because I wanted to tell some man who might or might not be my brother-in-law what I really thought of his actions.

So, frantic with haste, I opened my laptop and navigated to the tab where GenBot 2.0 was still open, the text I’d pasted into it still waiting there in the usual field.

I’d read the reply. I knew it was adequate. Not particularly hard-hitting and probably a bit over-long, but the subs would take care of that – it was their job to make the copy fit the allocated space, and they always needed to give everyone’s work a fairly robust edit anyway.

I selected the text in the window, opened a new document and pasted it in. I added the usual identifying copy at the top – Ask Adam, my name and the date – scrolled down and typed [ENDS] at the bottom.

Then I saved the file, navigated to my email and attached the document to a new message, addressing it to the chief sub and copying Greg, with a quick not apologising for my lateness and explaining that I’d been confused by the time difference.

Then I pressed Send, closed my laptop and turned out the light. To my surprise, I fell asleep almost immediately.

When I woke the next morning, I felt strangely calm. I was still in New York – still in the same city as my sister. Perhaps I’d be able to see reason, once she’d had a chance to calm down. And if not, I’d keep messaging her, trying to FaceTime her, assuring her that whatever happened I’d always be there for her. I wouldn’t let her feel like I’d abandoned her, or wouldn’t forgive her for the things she’d said to me.

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