Come As You Are

One, I don’t publish articles on my website, since I don’t have one. Two, it’s not a book.

Still, I did the work, so I take the money and thank him. “What are you going to do, sir?”

He shrugs happily. “I’m retiring. Sometimes you just have to get out of the business.”

I leave in a daze, my feet heavy, my heart leaden once more. I feel useless again. Used.

And confused.

Stepping into the elevator, it’s as if everything I knew about my business has been turned inside out. Bob Galloway was the exemplar of journalism. He was the man I admired. But even he couldn’t keep his ship afloat during trying times.

The elevator chugs downward as my insides churn. I didn’t expect to leave today with my original fee and a pending byline. I always knew I’d be leaving empty-handed.

But the part I’m struggling with is that I was fighting for a chance that was never going to materialize. The job here was smoke and mirrors. My actions were meaningless. I didn’t even need to confess my sins, since they had no bearing on the story after all.

When I reach the lobby, I take a deep breath and try to make sense of what to do next.

This is a twist I didn’t see coming, and even though I’m two hundred dollars richer, I’m walking out the door with more questions.

Where should I go next? What should I do? What sort of work should I pursue?

I’m tempted to head to the nearest coffee shop and fire off clip after clip to other editors. But before I do that, I reflect on last night.

On Flynn’s words outside Gramercy Park.

Let me be there for you.

Out on the street, I stare up at the looming skyscraper, the plucky heroine with the new job opportunity no more.

But as I furrow my brow, the wheels start turning. The dots connect. And I can see a way through.

I can see a whole new path.

Maybe the story was never pointless. Maybe the story was always meant to be my way to Flynn.

It’s a strange way for me to look at things. I’ve always been a practical woman. I’ve always been work-focused, seen things in the context of responsibility.

And yet, even if it was all for nothing, I believe what I went through was all for everything.

I believe it with my whole heart.

This job was never my future.

Because my future includes Flynn.

And maybe, just maybe, there’s something else that I can do. I don’t have to figure it out alone.

Yes, I have Courtney. Yes, I have Kevin, but now I have someone who is supposed to be by my side as I navigate what’s next. I do something that feels crazy, but completely right.

I call my boyfriend to see if he has a few minutes to chat.

33

Flynn

I shoot her a skeptical stare. “Sabrina told you to come here?”

“My daughter sure did,” her mom says, striding up to me and tapping her long red fingernails against my chest. “She said you could help me out.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Did she now?”

Her mom shimmies her shoulders back and forth. “Yes, she did. She said you were so generous, and she knew you’d be willing to help the mom of the girl you love.”

“Is that so?” I arch a brow.

Her mother smiles—a big fat grin. “She did.”

“And what is it that you need, Ms.—” I stop, since I don’t know if they have the same last name or not.

“Ms. Maureen Lancaster.”

“Nice to meet you.”

A voice cuts in. “Everything okay, Mr. Parker?”

I nod to Claude. “I’m all good.” I turn back to Sabrina’s mom. “You’re saying Sabrina told you to come see me today?”

“She sure did. I saw you two kissing like lovebirds on the street, since I was coming to town to visit her. And after my sweet girl and I caught up once you left, she said you’d be so willing to help me out. That all I’d need to do was come see you and give you the details.”

I rub a hand over my jaw. This is a brand-new pitch for me. A proposal I never could have expected. “She did?”

Maureen nods, chewing gum and smiling as if it’s the last thing she plans to do today. “She told me where you worked, and how generous you are, and how you always like to help her family.”

“I do love to help her,” I say, studying Maureen’s face, trying to see any signs of love for her daughter, for her son.

“And since you’re some kind of billionaire, she said it would be easy-peasy for you to give me ten thousand dollars for a new business I’m trying to start. Since that’s what you do, right? You start businesses?”

“Is that what Sabrina told you?”

“Of course, and I read all about you on the internet.”

“Then you’d know I’m not a billionaire.”

She laughs lightly. “Billionaire, multimillionaire. What’s the difference?”

“A comma. A very important comma.”

She parks a hand on her hip and juts it out to her side in what is likely supposed to be a sexy stance. “What do you say to helping the woman who gave life to your new lady?”

A hundred thoughts run through my head. Someday, I’m going to write them down and pen a book—All the Wild Pitches.

And this pitch would take the top spot. Win the gold medal. The Academy Award.

It would win it since there was once a time when I might have believed this woman. A few months ago, maybe even a few weeks ago. Not because she’s believable, but because I trusted no one. I’d been burned by women. My old habits would have died hard in this lobby, and I’d have suspected Sabrina was up to no good.

But I’m not that guy anymore.

I know who to trust. I know who to believe.

“Ms. Lancaster, you want to know what I say to your offer?”

“I sure do,” she says, giving a coy little twirl of her hair.

I straighten my shoulders. Draw a deep breath. Speak the truth. “I would say that you have an amazing daughter and an incredible son. Maybe you ought to focus a little bit more on them.” I take a beat, hoping to give weight to my last words. “Because she’s amazing in spite of you, not because of you. Have a great day.”

I walk away, letting Claude know he can see her out. That’ll make him happy, since he’ll be doing his job.

I need to do mine too. The job of being a great boyfriend.

Once I’m upstairs in the office, I make phone calls. I pull strings. I call in favors.

“Can we get that done by the end of the day?”

The woman on the other end hems and haws. “That’s going to be hard.”

“I’d really appreciate whatever you can do to rush this.”

“I’ll do my best.”

I don’t want to wait to give this to Sabrina. I want to give it to her tonight.

When I hang up, my phone rings, her name flashing on the screen. I answer immediately, and she asks if I have time to meet her.

“Absolutely.”

34

Sabrina

I can’t help but grin when I see Flynn at the coffee shop by his office.

Here he is looking business handsome in dark jeans and a simple white-and-green-striped button-down that doesn’t look like it costs a million bucks. It looks like it costs maybe sixty or seventy dollars and I kind of love that he doesn’t have to flaunt anything except his big brain. I do like that part of him.

We order tea and coffee and grab seats at a small table.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks.