"Good morning, Jane," I said as I entered the conference room to find her scribbling in a notebook.
She looked up at me and offered me a brilliant smile.
"Good morning. You're early. You never come to a meeting before the staff, I mean you're early," she blathered.
"You're doing that thing where you repeat yourself." I couldn't help but smile. She rolled her eyes. "I came early to have a word with my favorite writer."
"I can get Alex if you want," she made me laugh with her self-deprecating humor.
I sat down at the head of the table next to her.
"I wanted to thank you again for last night."
She shook her head, "not necessary."
I nodded and looked out in the bullpen for a moment and noticed Kat and Sutton's eyes on us. Little did I know, they were discussing what was going on between Jane and I. Perhaps they felt the shift, too. When I turned back to look at Jane, I knew immediately that she had been staring at my profile. She gave herself away by blushing and looking down at her notepad.
"Jane, are we okay?" I said quietly.
Her head shot up. Pulling back in her chair and turning toward me, she nearly toppled over backward. The panic was written on her face. It clearly hadn't occurred to her that we might not be.
"Yes, of course. I mean, I think so? Why?" Yep. I had made her panic.
"Relax," I placed a hand on the closest part of her body to me—her knee. Maybe it wouldn't make her relax; it did draw her attention. When she looked back up at me, I nodded to where my hand sat. "This is exactly why I am asking if we are okay."
She let out a shaky breath before placing her hand over mine on her knee and giving a light squeeze.
"Totally okay," she spoke softly. The softness of her voice, the squeeze of her hand and the look she gave me had opened a Pandora's box. Butterflies took flight in my stomach, my face warmed and a feeling at my core was worrisome.
"Umm…good," I managed to say.
I looked at her with awe and curiosity, remembering how the night before had felt, how her hair had smelled, how much I liked the feeling of her hand on my thigh. What I had gone to bed convinced could not be given life and would never be was definitely real and present.
"Jacqueline, you have a phone call," Andrew said for the door. My body was thankfully blocking his ability to see our hands. I wanted to snap, sending him away.
"Thank you, Andrew. I will be right there."
I looked to Jane to tell me when he had gone from the doorway. She nodded subtly when he had.
"I need to…"
"Yeah, go," she insisted.
When she released my hand it felt like we might not ever be in this place again and I didn't know why. I couldn't know what was coming. I brushed her knee with my thumb before abandoning it and standing from my chair. The smile I gave her as I looked down at her would have to speak the things I couldn't.
The pleasure and promise of the moment with Jane was ended immediately by the sound of Ian's voice on the other end of the line in my office.
###
"He did what?!" Richard's voice carried an anger I had never heard from him before.
"The attorney is apparently from one of the best firms in the city specializing in divorce and prenups," I explained as I poured us each a glass of wine at my kitchen island.
"Jacqueline, I didn't know he had moved out. You could have told me. He didn't say anything to you before retaining a divorce lawyer? You don't even have a prenup."
"Not a word. We haven't spoken in weeks. He calls the boys. I'm sorry I didn't tell you any of this before now, I've not told anyone…or at least not—" he stopped me with a pointed look. "What?"
"You told Jane," he stated matter-of-factly.
I saw no point in lying and nodded.
"Wow."
"I know. It wasn't my finest hour," I took in the aroma of the wine before taking a sip.
"Do you think he will go through with it?" he asked.
"I do. The signs have been there for a while. It took his reaction to the assault becoming public for me to see all of them. And his reaction was horrendous for a man who supposedly loves me."
Richard placed a hand on my shoulder.
"I am really sorry. I know how hard the last few months have been for you. It makes the timing of the board's bringing in Cleo even worse. For what it's worth, I don't think it is their plan to make her editor-in-chief."
"They want me gone, Richard. I see it in their faces. They are really going to have to dig if they want to find something that constitutes a fire-able offense," I said this without any thought of the electric interaction I'd had with Jane recently in the conference room. Richard thought of Jane all on his own. I cocked an eyebrow and awaited his comment.
"You have to be careful; you know that, right?" he spoke genuinely.
"Richard, there's nothing—"
"You don't have to justify anything to me," he cut me off. "Whatever is or isn't happening is none of my business. As your friend, I only want to remind you that you are on shaky ground with the board. I would hate for them to misinterpret anything."
"There isn't much to misinterpret," I sighed. Much.
Since the moment in the conference room, my interactions with Jane had been mellow, routine and professional. The only thing different was an occasional text which a year prior never would have happened.
"You and I both know there doesn't have to be. And if Ian is going through with the divorce, you will be drawing even more attention to Scarlet. Whether Safford sees all publicity as good publicity or not remains unknown," he paused. "Jacqueline, I am saying this as someone who knows a thing or two about relationships that would be frowned upon. Be careful. Remember what your reputation is worth."
"I know…" I set my glass down and ran my fingers through my hair.
"You love her, don't you?" he maintained the lack of judgment I expected from Richard Hunter.
"I think I do," I sighed and felt tears fall.
"Oh, Jacqueline."
Before I knew it, Richard had wrapped me in his arms. When he released me there was a look of shared pain on his face. I had heard rumors that he and a certain fashion assistant had been involved, but I was under the impression it was over. I left it.
"Thank you," I whispered as I wiped tears from my cheeks.
"Now," he smiled and rolled his eyes, "tell me what I can expect from Paris. I can't believe I am going to Paris Fashion Week."
I laughed at this and began for a rundown of what he was in for.
###
Jane had been stressed. While I didn't know for what reason, it was apparent to me that it wasn't Jane's everyday kind of stress.
I was stressed. I felt the board nipping at my heels, trying desperately to find a reason to relieve me of my title of editor-in-chief. My stress had made the goings on of my staff fall off my radar. Yet somehow Jane Sloan was never totally off my radar.
I was lying in bed; it was late. I couldn't keep from wondering about her. That moment we shared on my couch when her hand found my thigh kept repeating on a loop in my head. We hadn't been alone outside of work since which was probably good for both of us. And yet lying in my bed late at night, she was all I could think about. Maybe my conversation with Richard and opened that door.
Is everything okay with you? I typed the message multiple times, deleting each one. I groaned, pulling my glasses off and placing my arm over my face. What the hell was I doing? I stayed like that for a few seconds before typing the message again and hitting send before I could talk myself out of it. I let out a shaky breath and stared at the phone until it buzzed in my hand causing my heart to thump. Slipping on my glasses, I read her response:
I wouldn't recommend trying to freeze your eggs, but otherwise all is fantastic.
I looked at it multiple times trying to figure out what she was talking about. Then I remembered that she had taken half a day to go to her OB/GYN recently. Kat and Sutton had tagged along.
Your sarcasm is not lost on me, Ms. Sloan.
God, I was flirting again. Why couldn't I resist with her? Never in my entire professional career had I flirted with a co-worker. Never had I carried on an office romance. And never as editor-in-chief had I been tempted by an employee in any way. Not until now. But she was also my friend.
My phone rang and startled me. I knew it was her.
"Did you call to impart more sarcasm?" I answered.
It felt very strange to be laying on my bed talking to Jane so late at night. I looked at the clock on my phone and cringed. It was a few minutes to midnight.
"You and I both know I have sarcasm in spades," she responded.
"That you do, my dear. That you do. Can I have the honest answer to my question? Is everything okay with you?" I tried one more time.
I could feel her heavy sigh, hear her breathing as she composed herself.
"I am or I will be. Can we talk about something else?" she rallied when I thought she might cry instead. "You know, something less complicated?"
I laughed at this.
"Less complicated. You know who you are talking to, right? My husband moved out, appears to be filing for divorce and I'm on the phone with my much younger subordinate at midnight," it all came tumbling out until I realized what I had said.
Her hushed "oh my god" was all she said and then there was a long silence.
"I'm sorry, Jane. I…" Tears began to fall and I knew I was way past the point of no return. "I don't have an excuse for that."
"No, don't apologize. You have a lot going on. I shouldn't have called."
"No, Jane. Please don't blame yourself for this. Please don't—" I groaned. "I am the one at fault here. Please don't try to take on any of the responsibility. Tell me you are hearing me."
I waited for her answer and with each millisecond of silence I felt my stomach dropping.
"I hear you."
I waited her out. She needed to decide if she could continue speaking to me. Pressing her was not going to end in anything productive. I heard her inhale and the sound of blankets rustling. Shit. She was in bed. Of course, she was in bed. I was in bed.
"I am sorry about Ian, Jacqueline. I truly am."
"This is going to make work tomorrow incredibly awkward, isn't it?" I asked.
"Well, I wouldn't think so because you are going to Paris and I will be right here. You might have an awkward day on the plane to Paris for all I know," her sense of humor was back. That was a really good sign.
"When I return, can we sit down and talk?"
I felt the weight of the day settle over me and was suddenly exhausted. Perhaps a flight to Paris would be good for me—sleeping on a plane came easily for me.
"Yes, we should. Maybe not in the privacy of your home?" she was joking, but we both understood the implication.
"I suppose I will go back to being your editor in the morning."
"You were tonight, too," she hummed sleepily. "You were even when I didn't work for you."
"Time for you to sleep," I smiled. "Goodnight, Jane."
"'Night, Jac."
The phone call was proof positive that I should not be lying in bed thinking of Jane late at night and I definitely shouldn't be texting or calling her. I was learning the boundaries. Tonight, I clearly blew right past them. Hopefully Paris would be a much-needed reset.
To be continued…