Page 22 of My Best French Wedding

“Oh please. We’re both grown-ups. It’s not like I’m corrupting you.”

Walter reached for her, thinking to put an end to the argument by helping her up.

She scrambled away on all fours, so of course he had to give chase.

“Dream on,” she taunted when he ricocheted off the nearest wall.

He lunged for her, almost getting an arm around her waist. Atthe last second, Hildy reversed course, knocking into him like a wrecking ball.

“Take that.” She rolled sideways, but didn’t make it far enough. Walter collapsed on top of her at a diagonal, as if they were a humanX.

“Stop breathing so hard,” Hildy panted. Their stomachs were pressed together, pushing back and forth with every inhale.

“I’m sorry my need for oxygen offends you.” Walter tried to shift his weight without kneeing her, but every movement resulted in more of his body rubbing against hers.

The strangest thing about being this close to Hildy was that it didn’t feel strange enough, despite how long it had been since they last touched. Then again, strangeness was a relative term in the current setting. It occurred to him that they might have been better off all these years communicating through light wrestling, instead of using words. It was a relief to set down their weapons for a few minutes.

He wondered if Hildy had noticed it too.

“Is this how a waterbed feels?” she mused. “Must have been like trying to have sex on a trampoline. I wonder if that’s why the birthrate fell off in the 1970s.”

It was hard not to admire the workings of her brain, sniffing out possible stories in the most random places. “I think it was the economy. And birth control.”

“I like my version better,” she said, wriggling out from under him. Walter rolled onto his back, lifting his hips to make it easier for her. When she was free, he sagged back onto the floor, watching her crawl closer.

“Yes, Hildy?” he said, when she was kneeling at his side, staring down at him.

“See? That is how you should always address me. ‘Yes, Hildy. Whatever you say, Hildy. Your wish is my command, Hildy.’”

“Whatever you say, Hildy.”

“Never mind. Your delivery is all wrong.”

“So much for my career as a ventriloquist’s dummy.”

“Pretty sure they already have one at this wedding, and it is one hundred percent possessed.” She brushed her curls out of her face. “Here’s what I came to tell you. Are you listening?”

“You have my attention.” Walter saw no need to admit that this was a permanent state.

“The party’s over.”

“Which party would that be?”

“The one where you run amok all over my beat. Reporting and pillaging. From now on, you’ll be dealing with me.”

“You’regoing to do the reporting?”

“Yes, Walter. I appreciate your lack of faith.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant, though he doubted Hildy would believe him. “I didn’t think the mighty editor had time for that kind of thing.”

“I do whatever needs to be done. I’m a Jill of all trades. The Swiss army knife of journalists.” She leaned closer. “Not some dewy-eyed intern who thinks you’re fabulous because you used to chase celebrities.”

“Funny, that’s exactly what it says on my CV.”

She did not look amused. “Consider yourself warned, okay?”

“Is that a threat?” Because he could think of worse things than the prospect of running into Hildy all the time.