Page 30 of Common Grounds

“We wouldn’t,” Vi repeats, with more conviction this time. “We know a thing or two about the importance of not crossing boundaries.”

Cass’s face almost instantly turns into a pout as she whips her head to Vi. “If you’re talking about a boundary around dating your best friend’s sister, need I remind you we’re now married and about to be moms, so I think crossing that particular boundary worked out pretty well for us.” Her eyes glint silver, making her look like she’s about to cry.

Violet slings an arm over Cass’s shoulders and pulls her close as she plants a kiss on her temple. “I know, babe. I’m just saying we get it. Everyone has to define their own boundaries, and Emery has every reason to want to protect hers.”

Cass snuggles into Vi’s side and nods as if this is reasonable. “That’s fair. I suppose if it were me, it’d take me forever to trust anyone again if we split up.”

“Not gonna happen, babe,” Vi insists, snuggling her closer. They only have eyes for each other, now, and both are completely placated.

I, on the other hand, am incensed. “Are you suggesting I have trust issues because I’m divorced? Because I really wish people would stop tiptoeing around that part of my life. I’m not embarrassed about it. I’m not sad about it. Good riddance to Derek and everything he stood for.”

Vi turns her gaze to me, raising an eyebrow. “We know that. But you’re lying to yourself if you think your divorce has nothing to do with your refusal to even talk to Trevor about a job that could literally change your life just because you fucked him one time.”

My eyes widen, and my jaw drops. I open and close it a few times before saying, weakly, “That’s not what’s going on here.”

“Liar.”

“Writing these stories has nothing to do with sleeping with Trevor.” I lean forward, ready to prove her wrong. “In fact, we decided to keep it professional because of these articles.” So there.

“Who decided?” Vi asks. She’s all about the hard truths today, it seems.

“We did.”

“I doubt that. I’m very sure you told him you two should remain professional, and he didn’t know what else to do, so he agreed,” Vi counters.

I run through the events of Monday night in my head. I was definitely the one to bring it up. But I saw the resolve in his face. He knows how big of a deal this is for both of us, and he agreed pursuing anything between us would be foolish. I’m sure of it.

At least, I was sure.

A self-satisfied smirk settles itself on Vi’s face. “If you’re positive you’re both on the same page about it, it shouldn’t be any problem to visit him next week. For work.” She all but air-quotes the last two words.

She’s right. If we’re both on the same page, it shouldn’t be, but I can still remember the angry knot in my stomach at all those comments, and the subsequent gooey feeling I had at the memory of that picture-perfect smile against my skin.

I grumble something incoherent and grab another fry, but for the rest of the evening, I can’t shake this feeling that Trevor is about to become a much bigger problem than a one-night stand.

***

“Dammit, Ethan. Not you too,” I moan into my hands on Monday morning.

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Ethan whines over the cubicle wall. “All I did was ask if you wanted to go with me to the coffee shop to take pictures today.”

“Well, I don’t.”

He disappears below the divider, then walks around to my side. “You sound like a child whose parent told her to read for ten minutes before she could watch television. What is wrong with you lately?” He leans his forearms against his knees and tents his fingers between him. Since when did he turn into my therapist?

“I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want to go to that coffee shop at all. I don’t want to see Trevor.” He’s right. I do sound like a petulant child.

“Emery,” his voice goes deep and soothing, like he’s talking to a toddler throwing a tantrum. “You need to at least talk to the man.”

“I don’t want to,” I say into my hands, punctuating each word.

“I know, sweetie.” Okay, he’s definitely toddlering me now. “But you have to. You can’t do these stories justice without him, and you know it. Come on, love. Let’s go. You’ve had harder assignments than this.”

He’s right. Writing about puppy adoptions and senior center antics isn’t hard, but it is definitely more monotonous than anything I’m going to have to do for this series. What would be harder still is writing these fluff pieces until I retire. But I’ll probably die of boredom first.

I sigh deeply and flare my nostrils. “Fine,” I say, resigned. “But I’m only ever going when someone else is there with me so it’s less awkward, and only for thirty minutes a week, and only for the story.”

“That’s the spirit.” He makes a fist and swings it over his chest, mocking me.

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