Page 18 of Lessons in Forgiving
Those only made my predicament clearer. “It’s on him,” I said to snap out of it.
“What?” Maeve asked ironically. “The fact you haven’t gotten a single good article in a year? Yeah, that’s on him.” She huffed in annoyance. “We’ve been blaming him for just as long. So?”
“No,” I whined, although true. Kind of. Not really. “That’s not what I mean. It’s on him,” I repeated. “The article. It’s a profile. About Henry Parker Pressley.”
If I weren’t so caught up in this, I’d marvel at the scene of Maeve being surprised by something. It did not happen often. “For real?”
“For real.”
“Oh my God.” Her brown eyes flicked up to mine, the furrow in her brow deepening. “It’s like a cruel joke. Eddie doesn’t give you anything for a year, and when he finally does, it’sthis?”
I was so glad she was sharing my sentiment. Itwasa cruel joke! Only that I must’ve missed the punchline and it had turned into my life.
“But…” Maeve continued slowly, features softening. “What do you meanyou don’t know what to do? What’s there to consider?”
“Well.” My arms flailed around wildly. Apparently, it did nothing to explain. “You know. It means spending time with him, travelling around. Being really close. Like, really, really close.” Her expression didn’t shift at all. So, I doubled down. “For several weeks. I don’t know if—”
“Ifwhat?!” she cut in harshly. “If that’s worth it? If your career—your dreams are worth that?” Her head tilted slightly, and I was once again faced with pity. “Come on, Paula. You don’t mean that.”
But I did! Didn’t I?
A defeated sigh escaped me, and I deflated. My head landed on her shoulder, and Maeve didn’t so much as flinch.
“I kind of thought you wouldn’t want me to do it,” I confessed. “You know, with the whole NCA thing.”
TheNo Contact Agreementhad been her idea, after all.
Maeve laughed airily. “Paula,” she said solemnly. “We don’t sacrifice our dreams for men. They’re never worth it.”
I sat up. “But—”
“You’re getting a second shot here! Not everyone has the chance for do-overs.”
I knew she was right, I just didn’t want to come to terms with it yet. “But this will be a lot of contact, Maeve,” I repeated unhelpfully. “Kind of defeats the whole purpose ofNo Contact.Right?”
Her lip twitched a little higher. “Henry shouldn’t even be a part of this equation, love. He’s just a subject. Like any other. You do what’s necessary, then you write a killer article, and move on.” She squeezed my hand tightly. Just once before letting go again.
A nervous laugh slipped past my lips.
Treat Henry like any other subject. I huffed at the thought, not quite sure if I could. Because I knew him, and I knew us, and, most of all, I knew me.
Andmemissed him terribly.
I shook my head quickly. “You’re right,” I conceded. “God, you’re right. Of course you are.” I smiled, not quite sure if I was trying to convince her or myself. “I should be excited about this, not anxious about him. Fuck Henry.”
Maeve raised an eyebrow. “Not literally, though.”
CHAPTER 8
NOW
Clutching my phone between ear and shoulder, rushing out of theHBP—past Eddie’s office and two floors up—I realized I’d definitely be late. Without looking at the time, I just kind of knew. Felt it in my bones. “I’m good, mami. Sí.” I exhaled into the phone.
If I could only get my mother off the line, maybe I’d actually be able to read the documents in my hands. Maybe if she hadn’t called an hour ago, barely taking a break between sentences since, I could’ve adequately prepared for Henry’s first interview.
Sure, her endless monologues were currently saving me from unbearable anxiety and nerves I could not afford, but at what cost?
They’d robbed me of the one hour I’d set aside to prepare questions.
