Page 61 of Don't Remind Me
Talia hung up, and I clicked over to a new tab in my browser and opened my social media accounts. Like the hate mail, the nasty comments and DMs had slowed way down, but I could still see the ones from before. I hadn’t bothered to delete them, instead choosing to ignore them altogether, rarely looking at my accounts.
I looked now, though, not entirely sure what I was looking for until I saw it. Not in every comment, but in enough.
“Everything okay?”
Over at the island, Jase was making us his version of grilled cheese—the kind that used sourdough bread and three different cheeses, and that he stuffed with various fruits or veggies and then drizzled with a balsamic glaze. His hair was still damp from his post-gym shower, and he hadn’t put on a shirt, leaving his lean muscles on display, a few of them flexing as he cut up a nectarine. I let my eyes take in the view.
“Not exactly,” I replied. “One of our panelists canceled.”
He brushed his hands off and rounded the island, a clean pair of gym shorts riding low on his hips. I didn’t even pretend not to stare.
He came to stop in front of the couch and held out his hand. “Come here.”
“What?” I asked, placing my hand in his.
He pulled me to my feet. “You look like you could use a dance.”
Just like that, I softened, the tension surrounding my thoughts loosening under the warmth of his gaze, that contentment I found so often lately seeping its way in. I looped my arms around his neck, and his hands rubbed slow circles against my spine as we swayed.
“You also don’t look as worried about this whole panelist situation as I would have guessed you’d be,” he said.
It was true. A lot of planning went into organizing all five panels—determining the right topics to have the greatest impact on moving the conversation forward, finding the right combination of experts for each one that would provide valuable perspectives and complement each other’s strengths. This sort of hiccup this late in was exactly the sort of thing that would normally spin me out.
Instead, I found myself wondering if this wasn’t an opportunity for something else. Maybe even something better.
“I…have this idea,” I admitted, still working through it in my head, the pieces coming together more solidly with each second.
His brows rose. “But…?”
I sighed, sinking a little more into his arms. “But it’d be a big change from our original plan. One that could create noise, and not all good. I’m not sure it’s worth mentioning to Talia.”
Except the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to. And our plans had already changed. Why not do something big with it?
“It’s worth it,” Jase said easily.
My eyes narrowed. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because you have the same look on your face that you did during your interview with Bill Sewick.” His mouth tilted up. “The one that says to get the fuck out of your way because you’re on a mission, and no one’s stopping you.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head like he was ridiculous, but also so I could catch up with the sudden rush of emotion surging through my chest. Because he was right. What coursed through me now was exactly what I had felt during that interview. The same boldness to speak up and be heard, to be unapologetic in my actions.
It had scared me then, how reckless it had felt. It was still unfamiliar to me now, and yet…I kind of liked it.
I peered up at him. “That’s really what you saw?”
He nodded. “Still do.”
The way he looked at me as he said it, the steadiness of his gaze, the tone of his voice—he said it like he meant it. Admired it, even.
Admiredme.
I pulled his mouth to mine, kissing him deeply before sinking to my knees. Then I spent the rest of my lunch break showing him how much I admired him back.
“A virtual panel,”I said to Talia the following morning. We were in her office with my proposal laid out on her desk. “One that’s open to the public. We stream it live and accept questions from viewers in the chat for our experts to answer.”
Right now, the symposium was invite-only, intended as an opportunity to further the conversation around maternal health issues within the industry by those in positions to enact change. But too much of that change was being challenged from the outside by people who didn’t understand the full picture.
“It would certainly get a lot of attention,” Talia agreed, reviewing my notes.
