Page 27 of Wrong Car, Wright Guy
“I’ll see what I have, but I’m not sure whether I’m insulted over that or honored. Are you suggesting my clothes look like they belong to a drag queen?”
Theo laughs. “No. But you’ve been a bridesmaid to the cousins a couple of times, and those dresses were pretty hideous if I remember correctly. I doubt you’re planning on wearing them again? Darren’ll cut them up and work his magic. You’ll be saving his ass.”
“That’s fine. He can have whatever he wants. Clothes, shoes, makeup…whatever. Although I don’t have a wig for him.”
“No offense, sis, but you’re a little too white to share your makeup with Coco. I’ll take Darren shopping in the morning for the wig and makeup supplies. The dress is more than enough. You’re a lifesaver.” He drops a kiss on the side of my head.
“Yeah, yeah, good ole, Ruby,” I mutter.
“Hey, don’t be so down on yourself. You’re beautiful and amazing, and one day, the right guy is gonna see that. Believe me.”
“It’s fine.” I turn around and take the kettle off the heat, deciding I don’t want tea anymore as I quickly wipe at my damp eyes before any emotion falls. “I’m just a bit tired and overwhelmed, and I think I was reading into things because… because I’m lonely, Theo. You have Darren and Tahlia has men falling all over her, so she’s never single. And I’m always single, always wanting, trying to put on a brave face when sometimes,sometimes,I want to be the princess in the story. And you know what the real kicker is?”
Theo shakes his head as he listens.
“The new show I’m working on is called ‘Beauty and the Bigot’ and I’m really not sure which one I’m supposed to be,” I say, my voice growing hoarser with each word until the tears fall down my face and I’m crying. Just like I didn’t want to do.
Immediately, Theo pulls me into the warm embrace of his chest, my twin shushing me and assuring me that I’m the beauty in the equation. And most days, I can convince myself of that too. But tonight? I can’t. This big girl just needs to cry it out.
Twelve
Ruby
Aweek, or even a few days ago, I would have been tickled pink over getting a workspace of my own. But today, when I’m shown into my own office by Karen, of all people, I struggle to even smile about it. Because an office to myself means Tanner doesn’t want me sharing his space with him anymore. And after last night, I can’t say I’m surprised. I made a fool of myself when I told him I thought about him in a fuckable way. And now, well, he obviously wants his space.
Fine.
Message received, loud and clear.
I had my moment of vulnerability last night, and now it’s time to pick myself up again, hold my chin up high and pull my shoulders back. Like Theo kindly reminded me, I am worthy of love and caring, and the reason I’m not finding it is that I’m looking for it in all the wrong places. It’s time to push any silly fantasies aside and ensure Tanner’s and my relationship remains purely professional. It’s what’s best for the stationandfor me. No more lying awake at night fantasizing about his strong hands doing naughty things to my naughty bits. No more imagining him throwing me against the wall and having his wicked way with me after one of our more scathing arguments. And no more feeling sad when reality hits me and I realize that none of that will ever,everhappen. Tanner and I are co-hosts. That’s it.
I just wish I could stop feeling so sad about it.
“Mr. Brooks said to tell you, you can decorate however you want,” Karen says enthusiastically. “There’s a”—she flicks through the paperwork she’s holding against her chest—"budget allocation in here for you.” She hands me the sheet of paper. “It seems pretty reasonable, don’t you think? You could really spruce this place up a bit. Although, I quite like it the way it is." She looks around the office that has a similar set out but is about two-thirds the size of Tanner’s office at the other end of the building. He’s gotten about as far away from me as he can without canceling our show and firing me. "Do you like it?"
"I haven't had an office to myself before. Just a desk." Moving a little further inside, I run my fingers along the surface of the big desk that looks like it’s been recently polished to within an inch of its life. "Do you know who got kicked out of here for me to have it?"
Karen bounces a shoulder. "It's all the way down the other end of the corridor from Tanner’s office," she says. "I haven’t worked here long enough to notice if anyone was using this at all. Seemed to me that this floor only has a handful of offices on it, and not all of them are full." The faint dusty scent in the air makes me wonder if maybe this office was being used as storage before now.
“I’ve been here for years, but I’ve never really come up here until Tanner arrived,” I say, as I move toward the sitting area. My fingers trail through the leafy plant that sits in the center of the coffee table. It has little white flowers on it that smell like orange blossoms, the little tag stuck in the soil calling it Orange Jasmine. “I was always in the studio or in the bullpen.” I touch the soil and realize it’s been recently watered. “Where did this come from?”
Another shrug. “It was here when I got in this morning.”
"I see," I say, taking a seat on the cream couch that is set next to a wrought iron and cane bookshelf that houses a small tray with crystal tumblers and a decanted bottle of whisky, if I’m not mistaken. These tiny touches are ringing little bells in my ears, reminding me of the perfect dress and the exact shade of lipstick,his warm breath against my skin. Yesterday, these little touches would have sent me swoony, but today, I understand that this isn’t about me as an individual. This is about Tanner Wright and his attention to detail. It’s what makes him so good at what he does. He reads people, and I’ve obviously been an open book.
None of this means anything.
Stop thinking this means something!
"Well,” I say, stretching out slightly as I run my fingers through my freshly washed and blow-dried hair. “At least I won't have to listen to his grouching anymore, right?" I force my mouth into a smile, but it wobbles and I'm pretty sure Karen can tell.
"Yeah. He's a pain in the ass all right. Good looking, though. I guess that's how he gets away with it. Gorgeous men with money can kind of do whatever they want, right?
"I don't think that's the way it is supposed to go," I say. "I mean, I know it'showit goes. But I don't think itshouldgo that way. Beautiful men—and women—shouldn't get a free pass just because they were born with good genes. Rich people shouldn’t get a pass because they were born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Last I checked, equality was a thing."
"If only that were true,” she says, giving me a smile that makes me realize she’s quite pretty when she’s not cowering in fear. “And if it makes you feel any better, he sent me away too. "
My eyebrows lift so high I feel my forehead crease. "Why? Where are you going?"
