Page 61 of Love: Take Two

I've never even been close to getting married, but I know from clients and relatives that weddings can be stressful; in Senegal, they often last for days instead of mere hours. And, if I recall, the alcohol was flowing at our last meeting too. Maybe she can be forgiven a small lapse in decorum…just this once.

"I appreciate your wanting to apologize in person. I also appreciate the flattery," I say with a smile. "How about we pretend the last meeting didn't happen and start fresh? Were there any juicy details from your wedding?"

I hardly need more colleagues; my inbox is already overflowing with invites tothisnetworking event orthatworking lunch. At our last meeting, she was surprisingly easy to talkto, even if she crossed an unspoken boundary. Maybe when we start over, we can try asfriends.

I shake my head. I'm much better at making boundaries than I am at making friends. Between Noah and now Camila, it seems the universe is telling me to take some of them down.

Camila's face lights up at the chance to gush about her wedding.

"The ceremony was small—we had it at a courthouse—but the reception was another story altogether, complete with embarrassing stories about my new brother-in-law and your colleague."

She gives me a wink, and I lean in.

Chapter thirty-two

Awa

"Iwas glad to hear you tied everything up with the Fossekall option," Conrad grits out through a phony smile. "I thought your schedule might have been too packed to sit down with them."

I reach across the kitchen island for the oat milk, then pour a generous amount into my coffee. I stir in silence, savoring the discomfort I feel wafting off of my colleague.

"Daniel mentioned you were concerned," I say finally. "Why, may I ask, were you speaking to him about one ofmyclients?"

He breaks my direct eye contact to place his own mug into the office sink. Yeah, you better look away,connard.

"You're acting as if something unsavory occurred, when really, Daniel and I are old classmates from Princeton. He called to schedule a game of squash during his next East Coastvisit, and Patrick's script came up in the natural flow of conversation."

I suppress an eye roll, just barely. Conrad might want to leave the acting to his clients. I'd sooner believe he's stepping down as partner to open a nonprofit than that Patrick's script "just came up".

"Next time," I say, turning back from placing my dirty spoon into the dishwasher, "please reach out to me rather than offering to negotiate on my behalf. I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure you wouldn't want even the appearance of client poaching, especially not with one of your top-earning attorneys."

I flip my twists over my shoulder and leave Conrad gaping like a fish on land. More than a few eyes follow me as I stride purposefully to my office at the end of the hall.

I'm not usually so direct. Most days, I meet their passive-aggressive and sometimes outright misogynistic behavior with a smile, swallowing down any scathing rebuttal I might have in the spirit of picking my battles. If I let every slight hurt my feelings, I'd never get anywhere in a business that's dominated by men like him. So instead, I keep my mouth shut and let my stellar work and faithful clients speak for me.

Today, however, I'm on edge.

Drinks with Camila went better than expected. It's too early to say we're friends, but we're definitely more than colleagues. One cocktail turned into three, we both ordered food, and by the second hour together, we were gabbing likeNina and Josie in "Love Jones". We compared our law school experiences, I pretended to relate to her relationship stories, and then I came home tipsy and more than a little horny.

Too drunk to care about looking desperate, I texted Noah. I was eager for him to deliver on the texts that had kept me wet and tingly all week. Texts so hot, I'm surprised they didn't burn a hole in my pocket.

But it wasn't meant to be. He was stuck at a last-minute runway show, and I had to resort to my rose and a cold shower. Saturday, I was in New Haven to see a client perform at the Shubert Theatre, then stayed to catch a show from the Yale School of Drama. And on Sunday, we were both caught up in our prep for a busy week ahead.

It was hard not to feel a little let down after all the buildup. It's even harder to ignore the echoes of the last time we were together. How he said nothing would change and then suddenly,everythinghad. How I wanted to spend every night after with him, exploring our new physical relationship, only to discover he was avoiding me.

That's not what's happening now. I know it's not. This time, I ran scared rather than wake up alone or, worse, be asked to leave like our night together meant nothing. I couldn't risk that I was once again the only one feeling something between us.

I also know that an impossible schedule that takes its toll on friends, family, and even your mental health is part of the job. The entertainment industry doesn't care that my night withNoah opened the floodgates holding back my long-ignored libido, or that I still haven't quite recovered from my jet lag. In the city that never sleeps, I can't either unless I want to miss out on scoring the retainer for the next Margot Robbie, or fall behind on my never-ending workload.

I raise my arms above my head to stretch my aching back—a back that is unfortunatelynotblown out—when Elle, my assistant, buzzes me through the intercom.

"Ms. Faye," she chirps in her ever-cheerful voice, "Tabitha Styles for you on line 1."

"Put her through," I answer with a grin. Between the steady work and her support in taking a break away from the office, Tabitha is quickly becoming more than just my favorite client. Could she possibly be another…friend?

"Tabitha!" I greet her warmly. "How is shooting going? Do you miss me already?"

"What would it take to trigger Yong-rae's termination clause?" she asks in a clipped tone.