Page 34 of Off the Record

I face him. “Do you blame me for not wanting to chat? Once all your lies are revealed, the entire office is going to think I had something to do with it, since we’ve been seen together so much over the last few weeks. Although, you’re firing me too. Maybe that’ll save me.”

“I’m not firing anyone,” he says quietly. “I’m providing a list of recommendations. Which you did know about—everyone does. We had a meeting about it last month so everything would be aboveboard.”

“It’s not aboveboard when you fail to mention that an entire newspaper is folding. That’s a lot less jobs up for grabs than we’d originally believed.”

He closes his eyes, a sense of weariness permeating his shoulders and bending his neck slightly. I want to reach out and comfort him, but I’m frozen in place. “I’m doing my best, Paisley.”

“Well, it’s not good enough.”

He looks at me as the bell dings and the door opens again. We’re back on theRhythm’s floor and there’s a group waiting to join us, Simone among them. She lifts her eyebrow at me, but I don’t explain my idiocy. I just move aside to make room.

It’s not until Simone, Stan, and what feels like the entire advertising department has joined us that I realize my shoulder is pressed into Hudson’s side. I feel the way his chest rises and falls with his breathing and have to inhale slowly through my nose. That only serves to give me a whiff of his sage-y, velvety cologne, which sends an odd pang through my stomach.

Yes, the man withheld important truths. Yes, he should have been honest with me. Does that erase the moments we shared entirely? Walking the street in Franklin with our ice cream cones. Chatting at the rooftop bar while Bradley played acoustic guitar in the background. Laughing at the security guard’s jokes while he shared ridiculous stories about his time with the Parthenon. And, in between all those moments, the cafe sandwiches and to-go cups of coffee and texts late at night when I should have been sleeping. It’s been a whirlwind few weeks, and while I don’t know himextremelywell, I feel like I know this man a little.

It’s why his dishonesty is so painful, I realize. It doesn’t feel congruent with the man I believe him to be. Finding Leo with Kyla hurt, but it didn’t surprise me in retrospect that a man who could flirt with women in front of me would do more behind my back.

Hudson, on the other hand, has a reputation for dating around, and I don’t even know how he got it. He’s been nothing but kind and gentlemanly. Then it hits me.

Dating around—serial dating, even—isn’t exactly ungentlemanly, is it? He tries to get to know lots of women, yes, but not simultaneously. In the weeks he’s been spending time with me, I’ve never once seen him flirt with a waitress or someone at work. He’s been professional and polite, even with me most of the time.

He shifts, pressing against me more. I find myself holding my breath, willing the elevator ride to both last forever and be finished now so I can end this agony. I guess I haven’t grieved the loss of our budding relationship fully yet, because it’s hard being this close to him.

We reach the garage and the doors open, letting people out like water bursting from a broken dam. I grab Simone’s arm as she’s leaving and loop mine through it, using her as my shield.

When I leave her side and get in my car, there’s a text waiting for me.

Hudson

I’m sorry. There’s no excuse. I’m doing my best to fix everything. Please don’t give up on me yet.

My brother Doriansnaps his giant fingers in front of my face, pulling me out of my trance for the tenth time during his birthday dinner. “What’s going on? You’re never this distracted.”

We’re at IHOP, because that’s what Dorian wanted for his sibling birthday dinner, and the four of us who could make it tonight are eating pancakes and sipping Cokes. Classic breakfast for dinner.

“I told you,” Carrie says, pulling her Coke closer and taking a drink. “Paisley’s boss pretended to be into her but didn’t tell her that he’s dissolving theRhythm.”

Pretended? I don’t remember saying that.

“Do you have another job lined up?” Dorian asks. “You could always turn to novels. You’d make more money.”

I roll my eyes. Dorian is publishing a series of murder mysteries that are gathering steam in the literary world, and he’s always trying to get me to join him. “You know my brain doesn’t work like that. I write articles, not novels.”

“Have you even tried?” he presses.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. I onlywantto write articles.”

He puts up both hands and leans back in his seat. “It’s an option. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Eat your birthday ice cream and leave me alone,” I say, but I’m smiling. I can’t be mad at Dorian.

“Don’t you have a local signing coming up?” Luke asks.

“We all need to go and pretend to be his biggest fans,” Carrie says. “Who’s in?”

I raise my hand. “Definitely me. I’ll ask him to sign my shirt.”

Luke grins. “I’ll have him sign my a?—”

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