Page 90 of And Now, Back to You

She heaves a long-suffering sigh from her end of the phone. I bet if I stuck my head out this window, I’d hear it all the way from Baltimore.

“The numbers on your segments with Delilah are good. And after your little mishap”—she clears her throat—“they’ve skyrocketed. Aiden almost exclusively got calls about the two of you during Heartstrings last night and—”

“I told you,” I say, voice sharp, “my relationship with Delilah isn’t going to be content.”

“And I told you,” Maggie singsongs back, amused, “that I understand. Trust me, Jackson. You were very clear on that point yesterday.” She hesitates. “But—”

“No,” I immediately say.

“Let me finish.” Maggie laughs. “But I would like to know what’s going on. As your friend.”

So would Aiden. So would the girls.

So would I.

I settle on the one thing I know to be true. “I like her,” I confess quietly. “I like her a lot.”

Maggie hums. “I’ll protect you as best I can, but your little slip has made people voracious, Jackson. You’re going to have to address it.”

“Not if I can help it.” Whatever is happening between Delilah and me is for us. No one else. I’m not going to trot it out underneath the harsh glare of everyone else’s opinions. “What’s going on back home?”

Maggie grumbles under her breath about coming back to this later. “Like I said, the broadcast numbers are good. Really good. The executive team is paying attention. I think we’re making a strong case for keeping us local. And we’ve certainly scared Orion away for the time being.”

“That’s good news.”

“Great news,” Maggie agrees. “Cooper hasn’t harassed me in four days.”

I frown, trying to place the name. “Is Cooper their acquisitions VP?”

“He’s their overlord of corporate greed, yes.” Something slams on her side of the phone. “But I believe his reign is coming to an end.”

“Are you . . . upset about this?”

“I’m thrilled. Everything is going to plan, but for some unfathomable reason, Keith has become unbearable. You have no idea the barrels I’m dodging over here on your behalf, Jackson.”

I think about that hotel across the street. The mysterious stain on the carpet. The . . . thing . . . that was living in the closet. “Trust me. I’ve got an idea.”

Halfway down the hallway, Delilah sticks her head out of our room. She’s still wearing the goggles across the top of her forehead, but she’s added her beanie beneath the band. She gives me a little wave.

I lift my hand back.

“What do you need from me?” I ask.

“Nothing at the moment. I just wanted you to be aware.” She pauses. “Yesterday he came into my office and bumbled around for fifteen minutes before he very clumsily asked if I had any concerns about your performance.” She scoffs, sounding disgusted. “The man couldn’t con his way out of a wet paper bag.”

“What’s his angle?”

Delilah’s face turns interested, the door closing behind her. She moves down the hallway toward me, her snow pants a bright streak of color against the creams and blues of the lodge hallway. She hasn’t put on her boots yet and I can see her socks. They’re mismatched. One of them has little printed strawberries. The other is a Nike ankle sock, plain black.

I think that one might be mine, actually.

What’s going on? she mouths. I shake my head and angle the phone away from my mouth.

“Keith,” I whisper back.

She rolls her eyes.

“Is Delilah there with you?” Maggie asks. “Put me on speaker.”