Page 43 of Tell Me When It's Over

“I’m so sor—”

She holds up her hand, stopping me from apologizing. “I don’t need you to apologize, Leighton. Truthfully, I didn’t know who you were when you walked in asking about a job. Even if I did, it wouldn’t have stopped me from giving you an application or hiring you.”

I blink. “You hired me?”

Her smile grows. “I did. Mr. Warren gives me the final say if he doesn’t completely dislike the applicant. He did mention that something like this could happen if anybody knew who you were related to.”

Not feeling like correcting her, I nod along. I’m not sure where the conversation is going, but if she hired me knowing I’d be a risk then it doesn’t sound like I’m about to be told to clean out my metaphorical locker and hand in my apron.

“Harmony posted a few pictures of you and that famous singer online. The one from England. Or is it Scotland?” Her brows pinch as she thinks more on Garrick before shaking her head. “Anyway, the first photo only shows the back of your head, but our sign was in the background. Another photo surfaced later of you getting into the back of his car.”

My eyes close. I don’t bother asking why Harmony would do something like that. She’s his fan. The inner fangirl in me, the one pre-Bishop, would have posted pictures too or at least mentioned online about where I saw him, so I can’t fault her for it.

Mel cuts off my thoughts. “I’m going to talk to her tomorrow when she’s working. We have enough people where we can tweak the schedule to make sure you two aren’t on at the same time.”

“No!” Heat prickles up the back of my neck and settles into my cheeks. More calmly, I say, “No, that isn’t necessary. I wish she hadn’t done that, but I’m not angry about it.”

She studies me with both interest and awe, a combination I’m not that familiar with. Eventually, she nods in understanding. “As long as you’re comfortable. I want all my employees to feel safe. That’s why I do have to warn you that if this gets out of hand…” Her look is somehow soft and firm at the same time.

She’ll fire me if she has to.

If Mr. Warren were here, he’d do it now and save them both the trouble. Maybe Ky will know what to do when I get home. I saw the news alert on my phone that had Kyler in the subject line, with a picture of him embracing Mia in a still from the show. Some TV blogger posted an article of the big news from Sunday’s episode. Even though I only reactivated my private Instagram account shortly after the move into our house, it’s enough to stay in the loop without being bombarded with tabloid articles that I don’t want to see. I only follow a few people—Kyler, Mia, Dylan, Violet Wonders, a Single Division fan page (not that Ky knows), and a few TV shows, including The Casanova’s.

As he drove me to work this morning, he told me not to go online for a few days until things died down. Most news outlets are busy focusing on Mia and Dylan’s baby news, speculation on whether it’s a boy or girl, and what they think he or she will be named. I’d agreed without hesitation not to go searching and felt an odd sense of gratitude toward the thirteen-week-old addition to the Casanova family. I admit, I feel a little bad that something so tiny is the fall back on my presence here, but Kyler told me not to think of it that way. Mia and Dylan will want their children to be in the public eye anyway, so he or she will get plenty of spotlight growing up as it is.

“Mr. Warren mentioned your interest in picking up more hours.” Mel sits back in her chair and glances at the scribbled-on desk calendar. “Tell you what. We’ll wait it out a couple weeks until things die down with the media. If nobody else comes in here that wants a picture or interview, I’ll give you some extra time. Sound like a deal?”

I blink. “But Mr. Warren—”

“Leaves me in charge of scheduling,” she finishes for me with a knowing smile. “He’s a bitter man, Leighton, but I know how to handle him. I’ve been doing it for a lot longer than I wish I’ve had to, but it means I know what works. He’s barely here anyway.”

All my interactions with him haven’t been ones I want to repeat, but I trust Mel. She’s always been kind to me. “Okay.” I stand and blow out a quiet breath. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

She simply waves me off with the same smile and tells me to get her if there’s any trouble. Doing as Quinn said, I stay in the back doing stock, inventory, and helping them refill the pastry case when it gets low. It’s only on my break when I decide to glance at my phone and see the messages waiting for me.

Kyler: Gordy sent me this

“This” happens to be a screenshot of me leaning against Kyler, his arm slung casually over my shoulders, while he speaks to his mother at Mia’s house. They’re talking to each other while I look around the room. Under the image is a caption, one that ices over my bones.

Ex-Bishop returns after two-year exile.

“Exile?” I whisper, gripping the phone in my hand. Part of the article attached to it is cut off by his screenshot, and I don’t make a move to search what the famous gossip blogger had to say about my grand return. Exile is enough for me.

Kyler: Gordy says he’ll take care of it

Mia: Garrick told me Chase asked about you the other day. *Squee*

Mia: Are you going to hang out again?

Kyler: Mia said her producers have been getting asked about you possibly becoming a regular on the show. It’s been turned down on my behalf, but they’ll ask you anyway.

I pale. That’s a big fat no. I begin texting him back about what happened at the café but choose to backspace it all and have the conversation with him face to face. He’ll probably worry for no reason, even though Mel seems to have everything under control. I know his plans for the day included writing some new music he’s been working on but hasn’t had the time to finish since things have been hectic. He needs to focus.

Sending him a simple text back saying nothing more than “okay” and then ignoring Mia’s messages altogether, I finish out my break with a glass of water, bag of stale pretzels from the vending machines and head back out.

Sometime later, Quinn sidles up beside me as I organize the condiments containers. “So, what’s it like?”

My back straightens over the question I used to get asked all the time after moving in with the Bishops. If people didn’t want to know what being related to them was like, they wanted to know what the house looked like, what Kyler did in his free time, and if rumors about Mia and whatever random guy the tabloids said she was with were true. I never

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