Page 169 of My Lucky Charm

I shake my head. “There’s no position for that.”

“They created it for you.”

I stop.

They created it for me.

For me.

“They created a position?” I ask what I’m thinking out loud. “For me?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have a PR degree,” I say.

He shrugs. “They don’t care because you’re good at this.”

A beat. And then, “So . . . I’m not fired?”

“No.” He sighs. “There must’ve been a mix up because yes, they have to technically terminate the contract you had as my assistant and officially bring you on in this new role, but we were all supposed to meet and talk about this Monday. And I was going to tell you about it tonight. At the gala.”

I hug the pillow closer and suddenly wish I wasn’t wearing my ugliest clothes.

“I, uh—” he draws in a breath, like he’s not sure what to say next, but I don’t let him off the hook. This mistake put me through hell tonight, so if he has to squirm a little, I’m here for it. “I also let Turnrose know that I want to date you. Officially. There’s paperwork we have to sign with HR, and certain rules about . . . uh . . . physicality in the workplace . . .”

My skin tingles at that.

“. . . but he said there’s no reason two consenting adults can’t have a relationship, even if we both work for the team.”

I go still. Seeing him like this—raw and vulnerable—is a rare thing, and I want to take it all in.

“What about your no dating during the season rule?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

He moves a little closer and takes off his suit coat. His tie is undone and hanging around his neck, and there’s pain behind his eyes when he looks at me. “Ever since they hired you, I’ve been questioning everything I thought about who I am and how to play this game. You made me realize that I don’t have to play angry. I don’t have to keep everyone out of my life. That maybe having people in my life will make me better, not worse.”

“I don’t know if you should take advice from me,” I tell him. “I let everyone in. I don’t have boundaries. When I love someone, it’s with my whole heart. And that hasn’t exactly gone well for me.”

“Because you haven’t given it to someone who will treat it like it’s—” He pauses, and then, he looks at me and signs the word “precious.”

My heart stops, I’m sure of it. I’m going to need an ambulance. “How did you—?”

“Internet,” he responds to my unasked question. “Because I knew that this was what I wanted to tell you.” He shifts, and even though my apartment is tiny, he looks really, really good on my old couch.

“I know you’ve been burned just by being yourself, but I miss you. The real you, not this weird robotic version you’ve been for the last few weeks.”

I wince.

“Who was that anyway?”

“Eloise 2.0,” I say. “You didn’t like her?”

“No,” he says. “I like the version of you that always stuck her foot in her mouth and told long, rambling stories. The one who knows how to pick out the perfect gift for everyone and has never met a stranger.” He reaches for my hand.

“You do?”

He brings my hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of my knuckles. “I don’t talk. I know. I don’t always have the right words, or even know how to put them in the right order.”

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