Page 60 of One-Star Romance

“Cool,” he’d said. “Like, I obviously would love to get in your pants. But no presh. The show comes first. And if you ever change your mind, I’m here.”

He had been a real gem about it throughout the process. He was happy enough to wait for her to change her mind—he could get plenty of action in the meantime. She couldn’t seriously imagine making a life with Tyler. But she had to admire his persistence. He was growing on her.

“Shoot, I’ve got to go say hi to some parents from Christina’s daycare. Get yourself a drink, and we will continue this later,” Gabby said.

Natalie wound her way through the room to pour herself a glass of sauvignon blanc, making her way through the gauntlet of couples, everyone at this party in a pair besides her. Sometimes Nat felt like an ark had come by calling for the people to line up two by two just when she’d happened to be in the restroom.

But maybe that was okay. She had a lot of joy in her life, and she’d keep finding joy even if she never had a partner to experience it with her. She could discover moments of absolute ecstasy in taking herself to dinner alone, savoring the cold brine of a martini, exchanging life stories with the bartender if she was in a social mood or sitting silently with her own thoughts if she wasn’t. People said that joy was sweeter when you shared it, and maybe that was true. Perhaps she’d always have a pang of regret. But when she stretched out in her big soft bed as the morning light filtered in through her window, her joy tasted sweet enough to satisfy her.

This party too was full of joy. The last time she’d seen most of these people, she was treading water. Now she was a star and had brought an even bigger star along. She whirled from conversation to conversation, basking in praise and admiration, ready to soak it up all night long.

Halfway through her glass of wine, Natalie was talking with Becks and Shay as a man in a corduroy jacket stumbled out of the kitchen, knocking over yet another one of Gabby’s Santa figures with a clatter.

“Uh-oh, someone’s been hitting the eggnog a little too hard,” Shay said, her hand resting on her pregnant belly.

The man straightened up, then squatted down to righten the Santa. In doing so, he turned in their direction, and Natalie had to do a double take. What was Rob Kapinsky—a man who kept a tight leash on himself in almost every way—doing drunkenly wreaking havoc with Gabby’s Christmas decorations? She’d never seen him so loose-limbed, so floppy and careless, like a Muppet instead of a man.

Nearby, Gabby was looking over too. Rob regarded the Santa with a foggy mask of woe on his face.

Nat grabbed Gabby’s arm. “Um, what is happening over there? And where’s Zuri? I can’t imagine her approving of him getting that drunk.”

Gabby blinked at her slowly, then brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she said. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you.”

23

Zuri Balewa had given herself a ten-minute break from work to do some wedding planning, entering RSVP information into the spreadsheet she shared with Rob, secure in the knowledge that her life was going to plan.

And then the head of her program, Dr.Levitt, knocked on the door of her office. “Zuri? Got a second?”

When Zuri nodded, Dr.Levitt walked into the room with an apologetic smile on her face, leading in a man in tight pants. “Meet Michael Garrido. He’ll be joining us for the semester as a guest lecturer.” The pants on this guy were flashily tight, impractically so. “We’re all very excited to have him here! He was at the Phoenix Art Museum for a while and now runs a successful gallery there focusing on contemporary art. But the pipes burst in the room we were going to give him, so he’ll be sharing with you for the time being.”

Immediately, Zuri was annoyed. Her office was her oasis. She had three succulents placed at nice intervals and some scented candles burning. Tasteful scents, of course. (She couldn’t burn the candles at home because Rob was sensitive to smells.) She was junior, yes, but not the most junior.

“Why not with Boris?” she asked.

Michael and the department head exchanged a glance. “It became clear that Boris’s office was…inhospitable,” Dr.Levitt said. “We’ll hopefully get the pipes fixed soon. And in the meantime, I’m sure you two will have lots to talk about!” She walked out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.

“Thank you, you’ve saved me.” Michael grinned at Zuri, an impish kind of smile, while she gave her interloper a cool, appraising stare. His whole body had a loose ease to it, as if he danced happily through life thanks to his moderate good looks and charm and, she supposed if he were here as a visiting lecturer, some amount of intelligence. People like that irked her. She found them unreliable and lazy, giving up on whatever didn’t come at the snap of their fingers.

“Well, I didn’t have much choice,” she said. “But it’s not your fault.” She pointed to a table in the corner. “You can sit there.”

He began to unpack his bag, laying out his computer and notebooks while she turned back to her laptop, trying to block out the distraction.

“I know I should let you work,” he said, breaking their silence and her concentration. “And I will. But I really want to tell you the real reason I’m not staying in Boris’s office. If you’d like to hear it.”

She considered leaving him hanging. But, actually, she did want to know. Because if it was something sexist, Boris claiming his work was more important than hers, she could lodge a complaint, and then perhaps her oasis would be hers alone again. “Fine, what’s the real reason?”

He perched on the table and leaned forward confidentially. “It smells like something died in there.”

“Do you think something did?” she asked as she continued typing, pretending not to care, curious despite herself.

“It could be a mouse behind the wall,” he said, then flashed her a sideways grin. “Or maybe Boris needs to start taking more showers.”

“Rude. Boris is my best friend.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said. “Please forget I said—”

“I’m kidding. Boris is a jerk.” Boris regularly made demeaning comments about her work in comparison to his, and when she called him on it, he pretended that she was overreacting. “So I’ll allow it.” She tossed her head. “Now, I have work to do. You’re welcome to use the office as you’d like until the pipes in your room are fixed. But don’t distract me, or I’ll stop taking showers too.”

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