“I’ll be late.” Were things different now between Lachlan and me? They felt different. We didn’t need them to be different, right? Bad idea. “I have to pick up Celeste’s daughter from gymnastics.”
His brows lifted in the universal sign of judgment. “Why can’t Celeste do that?”
“Because she’ll be in a meeting with the top dogs in the New York office.” Sure, I minded the errand. But hopefully Celeste was discussing my promotion with the uppity-ups at Flair Manhattan. “See you later, dearest nerd.”
Lachlan rested his hand over his sweater-covered heart. “I’ll miss you, my favorite malware.”
I waved my fingers in a saucy goodbye, then sashayed through the aisles in the direction of the door. And when I passed the display that had witnessed my kiss with Lachlan only seventeen hours and fifteen minutes ago, I did not pause. No, not me. I kept walking toward the exit, a woman who definitely was not thinking about that staggering kiss. And I certainly was not remembering how it felt to be in Lachlan’s arms. No replays going on inmyhead.
But maybe I did glance back.
And I found Lachlan, hands in his pockets, eyes trained on me.
A ghost of a smile on his lips.
ChapterTwenty-Three
OLIVIA
I,Olivia Sutton, future recipient of a fabulous promotion, was on the phone with none other thanGood Morning America. That’s right, one of the hottest, longest running morning shows, and I’d just secured Lachlan an interview for their second hour.
“Wait, when?” Sitting in my office Thursday afternoon, I reached for my energy drink, jolted by the realization it was empty. I hadn’t had a hit of caffeine in at least five minutes, and my liver would surely be lonely and confused. “Next month?” Red-hot panic doused my excitement over this total coup. “October twenty-fourth?” That was a little over three weeks away. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather see him right before the premiere? Oh, you had a cancellation? I see. Of course.” Dread settled in at the talent booker’s words. There was only one answer here, wasn’t there? I’d be insane not to say yes. “We’ll make it work. Mr. Hayes will be thrilled.”
I was seconds away from losing all my pretend chill when the booker finally ended the call. Immediately, I whooped and punched a fist to toward the ceiling. But then reality lassoed my joy and wrestled it to the floor.Oh, crap. Lachlan has an interview onGMA.He’s not even close to ready.
I resumed my seat and thunked my head on the desk so hard it rattled my laptop. So, so much to do.
“Trouble in PR paradise?” Morgan slithered in and hovered around my desk like an evil specter who’d come to haunt.
I shut my laptop lid and braced myself for my daily dose of harassment. “Not at all. In fact, I just got Lachlan aGood Morning Americaprofile.” I watched her face still as she absorbed that revelation. “I’m hoping Robin Roberts interviews him, but I should know more next week.”
“Wow.” Morgan checked a text on her phone. “Go, you, eh? How wonderful.” Morgan certainly didn’t think it waswonderful. “When is this blessed event?”
She just had to ask. “Next month.”
Her billowy laughter could probably be heard in the office building across the street. “Next month. Oh, girl. Good luck with that.” Morgan sauntered to the chair in front of my desk and assumed a lingering, yet haughty stance. It was the posture of her people. “Can I give you a bit of advice?”
“I’m guessing I can’t stop you.”
“If you send an unprepared client to a national television show, they will never work with you again.”
Obviously I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. But Lachlan will be ready by then.” I fixed a smile on my face and stuck in a barb of my own. “Celeste has been offering extra support and coaching where needed, and together, we’re taking Lachlan to a new level of visibility.”
Morgan’s eyes flashed fire at the mention of Celeste’s help. And, okay, maybe all the support I’d received was a two-minute pep talk as I shoved her kids in the car when I picked them up for school yesterday morning. But still, quite inspiring.
“Perhaps one day soon you’ll be at a level where you don’t need those training wheels,” Morgan said. “Did I mention the account I’m working on is Elite Matches? Have you heard of it?”
Who hadn’t? They only ran ads all over social media. Elite Matches provided one-on-one matchmaking for people who made at least mid–six figures. Lachlan would probably call them the second our divorce was final.
“With my social media campaign and advertising,” Morgan said, “they’ve already seen a fifteen percent jump in membership.”
Fifteen percent was phenomenally impressive. The hussy. “Nice.”
“Nice? Tryfabulous.” Her viper eyes roamed to the pictures on my desk. “No photos of your new husband? I hope there’s not trouble in paradise already.”
Note to self: Plaster office with photos of Lachlan and me.“Lachlan and I have been too busy settling in and working on his brand improvements to get much else done.”
“How does he feel about the slim possibility of his wife getting a job in New York?”
