Page 32 of Reluctantly Yours

The waiter returns to take our order, but I’m confused when he sets down a bag on the table.

“Here is that order for you, sir.” The waiter turns to me, “Miss, what can I get for you?”

“What is that?” I ask.

Barrett stands, his chair scraping loudly on the cement patio.

“I can’t stay. I’ve got a meeting downtown.” He turns to the waiter, “Put her meal on my card.” Barrett hands him a fifty-dollar bill, then slides his gaze back to me to add, “I’ll be in touch.”

The waiter is excited about his tip, but when he reads my annoyance, his face turns guilty.

“Your boyfriend is super-hot,” he smiles, obviously thinking the compliment about Barrett’s looks will make me feel better about being ditched at lunch, then tucks the bill into his apron, “and generous.”

The playfulness I felt for a half second between us vanishes with Barrett’s abrupt departure. I need to remind myself of the situation. Barrett and I have a contract for me to be his fake girlfriend. He’s in it for himself. The very fact that he couldn’t take thirty minutes to eat a meal with me is evidence of that. Next time I start ogling his hands, I’ll need to remember that.

“He’s something all right,” I respond, before placing my order.

* * *

Thursday afternoon I’m finishing up notes on a manuscript that I pulled from the slush pile. It’s got real potential and I’m going to pitch it to JoAnna at our next editorial meeting. My phone vibrates from its place on my desk.

Barrett: I need your girlfriend services. Marcus will be picking you up in ten minutes.

I glance at the clock. It’s three thirty in the afternoon. What the hell? I can’t just leave work.

I type out my response.

Me: I’m working.

His response is quick.

Barrett: Your job depends on it.

Ugh. God, I hate that he has this over my head. I could tell JoAnna and blow up his business deal. That would show him. But that would blow up my life, too.

My stomach churns at Barrett’s reminder that I’d be jobless, possibly ousted from the entire industry if every publishing house knew I was fired from St. Clair Press. I glance down at the manuscript I’ve been reading and I instantly know I’ll have to go along with his demands.

I text back a thumbs up, which is really a giant fuck you, but I doubt Barrett knows that, then start gathering my things.

On my way out, I stop by JoAnna’s office to let her know that I’m leaving. Fake relationship with her son aside, ever since the party at her apartment, I’m determined to be on my best behavior. After this deal with Barrett ends, the slate will be wiped clean and I don’t want to give her any other reason to fire me. It’s only honesty from here on out.

I’ve never left work early before. While I do tend to work from home in the evenings, reading manuscripts and checking emails, I hate that I’m cutting out early.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I knock on the doorframe to JoAnna’s office.

“Chloe,” she says, looking up from her computer. “Come on in.”

“Oh, actually I didn’t need anything, I was just letting you know I’m on my way out for the day.”

“Okay, sure.”

“I know it’s early, but I’ll be working later, at home.” I motion to my tote bag full of manuscripts.

“Sounds good.”

“I’ve got a thing with Barrett,” I continue, feeling the need to explain the situation without confessing everything. “I’m meeting him to, you know, um…”

JoAnna holds up a hand.