Page 81 of Flirting with Trouble

“Cheers to that.” She takes a sip of coffee, and we walk out of the break room together. “I wanted to talk with you about—” Her cell phone rings. “Sorry. I’m waiting for a call from Marco.” Marco is the director of accounting, and he’s out of town this week. She glances at the screen, and her brows pinch.

“If you need to take it, we can catch up later,” I say as we pass another employee and exchange smiles.

“No, it’s fine.” She sends the call to voicemail. “It’s just Corbin.”

“I thought you got rid of him weeks ago.”

“I did. But I ran into him last weekend and I didn’t want to be rude, so we talked over a drink. Now he’s like a cat who refuses to find a new home. Story of my life, right?”

“You just haven’t met the right person yet.” The blond she went out with a few weeks ago ended up being a dolt.

“That’s what I keep telling myself, but I’m not getting any younger. You were so lucky to have Harvey. They don’t make guys like him anymore. He knew how to treat a woman.”

“Yes, he did.”

“There should be a test men have to pass before they’re allowed to date,” Padma says. “I swear men these days are clueless about chivalry or even reading a room, for that matter.”

My mind skips back to Wells. He has chivalry down pat, putting himself between me and the street on our walks, opening doors, asking if I need anything, and he is a master at reading any room. Especially the bedroom. A wave of longing moves through me, dragging me deeper into the ache of it. I miss waking up with him as much as I miss our talks, playing that silly game, and exploring the city together.

“You and Harvey were so well suited for each other,” Padma says. “That’s what I hope to find. A once-in-a-lifetime love.”

“You will,” I say absently, my thoughts turning to Harvey. He was a once-in-a-lifetime love. But can there be more than one kind of love in a person’s lifetime? My thoughts stumble. Love? Am I really asking myself that? My pulse quickens. How did we get here so fast?

“My mother says I lost my chance at love when I chose work over Nevin,” Padma says, bringing me back to the moment. Nevin was a man she dated when she was in her twenties. He proposed and she turned him down to focus on her career. “Maybe I should just stop looking. Men are more trouble than they’re worth. It’s not like I want to have kids.”

That maternal pang that has been hitting me harder lately, the one that felt like it swallowed me whole in Baltimore around all those children at the aquarium, rushes in.

“I don’t need a man in my life, right?” Padma says.

“I don’t think any woman needs a man in their life, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting one,” I say as much for myself as for her as we walk into my office, and find Yvette putting something on my desk.

“There you are,” Yvette says.

My chest constricts. I wonder if it would raise eyebrows if I ban that phrase from the office.

“I was just leaving these for you.” Yvette picks up papers from my desk. “I know tonight is your scouting night, and I realize you might already have artists on your schedule, but my friend turned me onto this guy who’s a musician and a performance artist, and he’s playing tonight at the…”

As Yvette goes on about the artist, my heart sinks. Scouting night. I was so worried about what everyone here who knew Harvey might think of me if they found out I was seeing Wells, I let them believe I was scouting talent on Wednesdays and Fridays. Not that there’s anything wrong with seeing Wells, but this was Harvey’s company, his legacy, and I didn’t want to do anything that might tarnish it, like giving people a reason to start talking about me behind my back.

That stops me cold, and reality steals my breath.

In an effort to protect the reputation of Harvey’s legacy and maybe my own ego, I’ve become a liar—even to myself—and I hurt the best man I know when he’s done nothing but be patient and kind and wonderful.

Shitshitshit.

“I emailed you a list of his social accounts and links to some of his videos.” Yvette holds the papers out to me. “I also printed out these articles about him.”

My thoughts are reeling, and I’m fighting the urge to run as far and as fast as I can, the same way I struggled after Harvey’s death—which makes no sense, since it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest making it hard to breathe. I take the papers. “Thanks.”

“He sounds great,” Padma says as Yvette leaves my office.

I didn’t catch half the things Yvette said about the artist, and I couldn’t focus right now if my life depended on it. But then I remember Padma was there for a reason. “You had something you wanted to talk to me about? Was it important?”

“I just wanted to ask how your breakfast with Mary Denson went yesterday.” Mary was one of our newer agents.

“It was great. She’s jumped in with two feet and already has meetings lined up for the rest of the month.”

“She reminds me of you when you first came on board,” Padma says. “Nothing could stop you. I remember warning Harvey that you were going to ruffle feathers.”