Page 88 of No More Heartbreakers

“Okay,” I whispered, torn between a rush of joy and a scream of panic and the weight of guilt over failing to make a return declaration.

The words were there in my mind.I love you, too.The feeling was there in my heart—I thought.

But it was hard to trust my heart. I’d been so quick to say it to Jason. And of course he’d said it to me right away. And the phrase hadn’t protected me.

It hadn’t kept us together or made that relationship real. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t say it again until I was absolutely, positively sure it was true and that it was forever.

Aric’s eyes softened as he watched the inner struggle play out on my face.

“It’s okay.” He dipped his head and kissed the tip of my nose. “I don’t want you to say it until you’re ready. Let’s get some sleep.”

He turned off the lamp and lay down again, pulling me close until my face rested over his heart.

In a few minutes his breathing deepened and evened out. I slid my hand across the warm skin of his abdomen and wrapped my arm around him, embracing him with my body the way I’d been too afraid to do with my words.

TWENTY-THREE

Have a Nice Dinner

The week passed in a happy blur of work and sex and updating my resume reel, though I still hadn’t sent it out to any larger markets.

In spite of all my stated intentions to charge onward and upward, I still wondered if I could really do it. What if I moved to a big city a plane ride away and viewers didn’t like me, what if I couldn’t fit in and make friends?

What if I didn’t actually have what it took?

Iwantedto be ready, but was I? It seemed better to bite off something I could definitely chew, even if it didn’t taste all that good, than to sink my teeth into something truly yummy and then choke.

Friday, I worked dayside, shooting and reporting a story for the noon show, then grabbing a quick sound bite for another story before heading back to the station. I got back to the newsroom with just enough time to check messages on my desk phone before the afternoon news meeting.

The first was from a viewer who sounded no younger than eighty, wanting to know where I got my hair done so she could get my exact cut and color.

Another was from a contact of mine at the Wilkes County courthouse about an upcoming court case that might make an interesting story.

The next message caused me to sit down in my chair and play it back twice before my brain could actually register what I’d heard.

“Hello, Heidi. This is Ken Zorich from WKRN. I was impressed with your work, and I’d really like to talk to you about coming in to audition for our noon anchor opening. If you’d give me a call back, I’d appreciate it. My number is…”

WKRN? How had he even seen my work? Had a headhunter shown it to him? Where was the station even located?

Before I could do a search for it on my computer, Janet poked her head out of her office.

“Okay gang—it’s two-twenty-five. Time for the two-o’clock meeting.”

During the meeting, the reporters and producers discussed the day’s news coverage options. There were always many more events going on than we could possibly cover, and this was where we talked it out and people could champion a story they felt particularly strongly about.

Janet guided the discussion and ultimately made the call on what did and didn’t get our limited resources.

“Heidi, you and Aric will be shooting for each other today—I know that’s working pretty well for you on the weekends—and you’ve both got stories in Athens. You’ll cover the Georgia Writers Symposium. And there’s a kickoff event for the basketball season Aric needs to pick up—a free-throw competition for students where they try to sink three-pointers to upgrade their seats for the season. Should be fun. Since you’ll both be right there on campus, we’re going to make both of them live shots. Tony’s already on his way there with the live truck to set up for the six.”

There was a little more discussion of logistics, but the meeting was mercifully shorter than usual, which thrilled me. I wanted to check out Ken Zorich and his station.

“Heidi—could you stay a minute?” Janet motioned for me to move to the chair closest to her desk as the others filed out of her office. “Ce Ce—would you shut the door? Thanks.”

Oh, a closed-door conversation with Janet. That was different.

“Heidi, I want to share some news with you, and then I have a question for you,” she said.

Now my nerves were starting to vibrate. What could Janet want to share with me that she didn’t want the others to know about?

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