Page 74 of Pick-Up
He shrugs. Beats him. “Does he talk to any of your friends… per chance?”
I shake my head, giggling. I got the friends in the divorce. The good ones, anyway.
I am indeed on an island. How did you know?
The dots appear instantly. He is a greyhound on the star-fucking scent. Cliff doesn’t miss a chance to “network.”
I follow ESCAPADE on IG. They posted a pic from there and you’re in it. How come?
I’m producing some content for them.
Wow. Sash. So cool! We’re actually thinking of casting Martin Bernard in the Ryan Reynolds project. He’s looking to resurrect his career and…
I look up at Ethan, who is waiting patiently. “I actually need to put this away before I throw my phone into the ocean.”
“Fair enough,” he says. “I’ll put mine away too.”
We both set our devices in the middle of the table, face down. Like it’s a poker bet. I take a moment to appreciate where I am. I tip my head back. The warm wind feels like a new start on my skin.
When was the last time I felt this relaxed?
“Your ex-husband seems like a piece of”—Ethan hesitates—“work.” He almost saysshit. That would have been more accurate.
“Oh, he is! He sucks.” I nod, throwing up my hands. “He’s a no good, irresponsible, cheesy cheater. But you know how that is.”
I don’t realize the faux pas until it has slipped from my lips.Damn you, rum!I clap a hand over my mouth, though we both know it’s too late.
“Aha!” says Ethan, rising out of his seat to point at me. “I knew they told you more!”
I shrug sheepishly. “Are you mad?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head, sitting back down.
I can tell he’s not.
It occurs to me that he is objectively adorable, in a total way. His eyes, heavier now. His smile crooked with our inside jokes, his single dimple showing. Not that Professional Sasha cares. Although Professional Sasha just drank a gallon of liquor. She is out-of-office. Apologies for the delay in her responses. For urgent matters, please contact anyone else.
Shit. I think maybe I really like him. Do I? The fact that I’ve almost kissed him twice seems like a possible indicator. But whatever, I mean, everyonelikeshim. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
“For what it’s worth, they really seem to like working for you,” I say.
“This job is by far the best one I’ve ever had.” Ethan smiles, but then his forehead creases with worry. “And it’s a big step in my career. I just hope I get to keep it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he says, rubbing at his forehead.
“It seems like something.” Before I can think, I reach out and touch his other hand, as it sits palm down on the table. I want to bring relaxed Ethan back. “Tell me what’s up.”
He looks slowly from my face to my hand, which I yank back. There is a moment of silence as we eye each other. Like it or not, there’s a fireworks show ricocheting through me.
Does he feel the same?
“You were saying?”
“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “The magazine has just been bought out by a new publisher, and corporate is making decisions in the coming weeks about who stays and who goes. I feel pretty confident that my staff will remain regardless, though I still want to make sure and protect them, but my job is less secure. I’m still relatively new, and they have to like the direction I’m taking things.”
Ahh. So much makes sense now. Derek’s anxiety. Ethan’s stress. “So it’s contingent on…?”
