Wait. That’s not true. I want to do much more.
Which is the real problem.
So I bury myself in work, since the law is reliable.
With every line of legalese I write, I remind myself of why I am faking it—I have to protect this firm and its rep.
I meet with some of the junior partners handling various deals for the firm, and we review the terms. When we’re done, one of the newest attorneys here mentions that his one-year-old just took his first steps, and then shows us the video.
“What a cutie-pie,” one of the women says.
That’s another reminder.
These people depend on me. I sign their checks so they can pay their student loans and take care of their one-year-olds.
I can’t call anything off.
Even if I want to.
Even if it’s getting harder to pretend.
At the end of the day, I change into running shorts to hit the park, chatting with Jane on the way out.
“I see you’re the toast of Twitter now,” she says as the elevator doors close.
“Am I now?”
With a sneaky look on her face, she grabs her phone from her handbag, slides it open, and shows me the latest comments.
@LovesListsofMen: The kissing pics!!! Dying. Just dying.
@ManCandyFan: Dying twice. Dying dead again. Dying from the hotness of the kissing.
@GossipLover1andOnly: I am dead. I am literally dead.
@ManCandyFan: *collects your body* *gives it a proper funeral befitting a death from hotness*
I laugh at the exuberance. I guess it’s better than the first rush of tags. “That’s good. Wait—” I narrow my eyes and point to the next one in the thread. “Is that the pen twat again?”
@TheThird: I dunno. Something about the two of them is almost too good to be true.
@LovesListsofMen: Jelly much?
@TheThird: Not one bit. I’m just saying, who’s like that?
@HZRedhead: He wasn’t like that with me.
@ManCandyFan: Uh, hello. He’s not with you. He’s with her.
Jane closes the app. “Your public is amused.”
“Seems to be.”
She pats my arm. “You know, I’m happy to keep this up as long as you need me to, but do think about what happens down the road,” she says as we exit the lift.
Down the road. I let those words echo, as I slide a thumb across my mobile, checking out the latest text from Christian.
Christian: Tell me every entertaining detail. Also, have we discussed the importance of an exit strategy?
But I’ve got no time for down the road, or exit strategies, when I have to deal with now and with this morning and what will happen tonight.
I head to meet Jason in the park.
“It happens to the best of us.”
That’s Jason’s sage advice that evening after I updated him on my morning bolt-from-the-scene routine during our four-mile run through Central Park.
“And what exactly is the ‘it’?” I ask as we walk along the Reservoir to cool down.
“Being an arsehole,” he says.
“You’re saying I was an arsehole this morning?”
He blinks. “Are you saying you were anything but?”
