Headlines (Prime Time #3) - Ella Frank Page 0,35

It wasn’t that I was ashamed of Xander and what we had, but the way he’d come after Xander, degraded him in that way…fuck that. I wasn’t about to let some asshole talk about him that way, and if I had to shut Wagner’s mouth with my fist, then so be it.

“You okay over there?”

I turned to look Nichols’ way. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

Nichols gestured to the newspaper on the table that I’d crumpled into a fist. “You seem a little tense.”

“Can you blame me? Wagner’s a piece of shit. He’s lucky his teeth are all still in his mouth.”

“Agreed. He was pushing it.”

“Pushing it?” I sat back in the seat and kicked my legs out in front of me, crossing my arms and legs. “That fucker was asking for it. He’s a homophobic dickwad who couldn’t find someone to sleep with him even if he paid them.”

Nichols slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Agreed again. But he’s not worth your job.”

“I know.”

Nichols slowly nodded. “Good, and I’m sure that’s the last thing Xander would want. You to lose your job because of him.”

“You’re not wrong there. He’d kick my ass.”

“And I’d pay to see it.”

“I bet you would.” The room fell silent for a second, and then I said, “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “It’s none of my business.”

Huh. I got to my feet, and when I reached his side, Nichols bumped shoulders with me.

“Plus, I’ve known about you two since you asked me to come and help that night of the awards. I think it’s great. Xander makes you a nicer person to be around, and that in my books makes him A-okay.”

I smirked and shook my head. “I don’t know how it happened—it just did.”

“That’s how you know it’s real. Who the hell knows why we fall in love? We just do. Count yourself lucky, man, and hold on to him with both hands. But if he asks you to buy a minivan…”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure he sees you sitting in a Dodge Charger first. It’s a game changer.”

18

Xander

“I SWEAR, IF your ass isn’t in my makeup chair in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to send Marcus to your office to personally escort you over.”

I grinned at Cynthia’s put-out tone as she reprimanded me over the phone. I was usually in her seat forty-five minutes before I went on air. I always complained she could do it in less, but as she constantly liked to point out, the time block had nothing to do with her skill and competence, but with all of the interruptions, pop-up emergencies, and last-minute changes to my write-up.

Twenty minutes for makeup, and twenty-five minutes to avoid disaster. Right now, I was eating into her time block.

“I’ll be over there in—”

“Ten seconds or less if you want to live to get on air tonight.”

I pushed to my feet. “I’m on my way.”

She’d already hung up before I could attempt the word goodbye, and I clicked on my email inbox one last time to refresh it. When no new mail popped up, I sighed, grabbed my phone, and headed for the door.

All day today—and yesterday—I’d been refreshing and checking my emails like I was paid to do so. But as I headed across the newsroom toward the dressing rooms, I knew I needed to chill out and focus on the job I was actually there to do.

That was easier said than done, though. Yesterday morning I’d reached out to Bailey regarding my birthday this coming weekend, and even though I knew he wanted nothing to do with me right now, I’d blindly hoped that this would be the one thing he wouldn’t be able to ignore.

Birthdays were our thing. They always had been, ever since we were boys. No matter how old we were turning, who we were dating, or what was going on in our work lives, we always showed up for the other’s birthday. We hadn’t missed one in all the years we’d been friends.

I was just about to pull the door to the dressing room open when my phone vibrated. But instead of the text I was hoping for, it was my mother letting me know that they would be arriving in Chicago Friday. I sent her a quick message asking if she needed me to send a car or pick them up, but she assured me they would be fine and she’d be in touch. Then, because I’m a pathetic human