Page 111 of One Night in Vegas

She was right. The smart thing to do was to quit my job. I would find another. It was a good job, but I didn’t think I had the mental strength to see him every day. I would always want him. I would be easy prey for him. The best thing I could do for myself was get away.

I had to get away and stay away.

42

JON

Itapped my fingers on my desk as I listened to the phone ringing through the speaker. The sound echoed around the room. It was ringing, which meant the phone was back on. She knew I was calling. When she didn’t answer, I disconnected the call and hit redial.

Her voicemail picked up. “It’s me,” I said. “We need to talk.”

I knew what happened. I found the newspaper on her desk. When she didn’t show up in my office with my coffee and muffin, I had gone out to find her. The desk was empty, but I saw the newspaper. There would be no other reason for that paper to be there if she hadn’t left it. The picture on the front page was going to haunt me for the rest of my days. It had to come from the reporter. The angle of the picture made it look like we were kissing. She saw the picture and was clearly pissed at me.

When I went to HR to causally inquire about her absence, assuming she had quit, I was informed she had come in but went home sick. That gave me a glimmer of hope. She would be in tomorrow. I went back to my office and tried to muddle through the day without my right hand.

This was why my father warned me about sleeping with the people we worked with. He said it over and over. I had always adhered to his strict policy. The first time I did, it blew up in my face. I wasn’t just at risk of losing the woman I was pretty certain I loved, but also the best damn assistant I’d ever had. She had made herself a valuable member of our team. If she chose to quit, it was going to be a huge loss.

I was upset she was gone, but I was also a little pissed she had just cut and run over a picture. She didn’t even give me a chance to explain. That seemed a little fucked up to me. She could have at least asked who the woman was or allow me to explain what the picture was. It wasn’t a kiss. The damn reporter who had taken the picture was officially on my shit list. He would never get another interview with me. He was there. He saw me push her away, but he didn’t report that.

“Hack,” I muttered.

I went back to work, doing my best to keep things running. It was a lot like trying to row a boat with a single paddle. I found myself going in circles. At the end of the day, I left my desk a mess and walked out of the office without looking back. I intended to go home but found myself driving to my mom’s house. In many ways, I was still a little boy who needed his mom when he was having a bad day.

She answered the door. “Jon? Were we supposed to be having dinner tonight?”

“No.”

She nodded with understanding and opened the door for me to walk in. “I’ve got some cold chicken I’ll heat up.”

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry.”

“You look terrible,” she said. “What happened?”

“I’m not hungry, but I need a drink,” I answered.

“Let’s go sit down.”

I poured myself a whiskey and a gin and tonic for her. We got comfortable in the sitting room. I stared at the amber liquid in my glass and tried to find the right words.

“I’m going to assume this has something to do with Macy,” she said.

I looked at her and slowly nodded. “How did you know?”

“I’ve seen you through a lot and you’ve never wavered. This has to be related to a woman. The only woman I know of that could do this to you is Macy.”

“Did you happen to see that stupid rag paper?” I asked.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “I wondered about that.”

“I wasn’t kissing the woman,” I said. “I don’t know who she was. She acted like she knew me. She ran up to me and she tried to kiss me. I turned my head just as she slapped her lips against my cheek. The guy that took that picture got it at just the right angle. As soon as she kissed me, I pushed her away. I walked away, but he didn’t print that.”

“He did a nice write-up about the new line,” she said.

I glowered at her. “Not the point.”

“I suppose Macy was a little upset to see you locking lips with another woman,” she said.

“I wasn’t locking lips with her,” I corrected. “And I’m going to guess she’s upset, but I can’t say for sure because she isn’t talking to me.”

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