Just a Girl - Becky Monson Page 0,46

his grasp. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

Brady either doesn’t understand the sarcasm in my tone or he’s just ignoring it because he reaches over and rubs my shoulder with his hand. “You’re welcome.”

Not wanting to delay whatever Henry wants to talk to me about—and something tells me it’s not the feature—I tell Brady I’ll see him later and walk toward Henry’s office.

I feel like my legs are dragging as I go. I need to make sure he understands that Brady and I aren’t together and never were. It was just dating, nothing serious.

I reach Henry’s office and knock on his door.

“Come in.”

I open the door and walk in, shutting it behind me. Henry is sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer. I take a seat across from him. The room, with its bare walls and empty shelves, looks cold. As does the man sitting across from me.

“Henry . . . before . . . just now . . . I—”

“It’s none of my business,” he says, his tone cool, his demeanor hard. It wasn’t that long ago that I sat across from this man, his face full of feeling and expression as he told me he “really liked me.” I can hardly remember that man or that time.

That’s a lie. I remember it perfectly. What I can’t seem to wrap my brain around is this complete one-eighty sitting across from me.

I place my hands in my lap. “Well, I want to explain—”

“No need,” he says, his words a staccato.

I huff out a breath. “Well, I’m going to tell you anyway,” I say, feeling irritation move through me. “I was only casually dating Brady when I met you. We hadn’t even been out for a couple of weeks before I met you. I—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Henry says, cutting me off.

My irritation turns to anger. “It does matter. I don’t want you thinking I was two-timing Brady. I don’t do that.” I don’t know why it’s important for me to say this to him. He’s right, it doesn’t matter. Not to him—not for him and me. There is no him and me.

At least Brady is putting himself out there and doesn’t have all these rules about dating coworkers. Maybe I’m the kind of woman that Brady would move mountains for. I’m certainly not for Henry.

“It’s fine,” he says. “About the feature.”

“What about it?”

“It’s a go. I’m going to do it.”

I freeze in my seat. My eyes stuck on his. He stares back; his jaw ticks.

“Why?” I ask.

“Dwayne thinks I should,” he says.

“Dwayne . . . thinks . . . you should,” I repeat, the words slowly spilling out of my mouth.

“Yeah, it will be good for ratings, I s’pose. So, I just . . . wanted to tell you. First. You came up with the idea, so I thought you should know.”

I have a million thoughts all going through my head. I want to tell him that he doesn’t have to do this. I want to tell him that I don’t want him to do this. But what would be the point? I’ve already put my heart on the line for this man. And he squashed it. Like an annoying little bug.

I place my hands palm down on my thighs. “Good,” I say, trying to make my tone light. But it comes out more like I’m talking around mash potatoes in my throat.

“So, well done,” he says, his tone a bit harsher than it should be for what I’m assuming is supposed to be a compliment.

“Thank you.” I don’t wait for him to dismiss me—I get up and walk toward the office door, opening and shutting it without saying another word.

~*~

“So he’s going to do it?” Holly asks. We’re at our favorite pizza place, just the girls this time. Me, Holly, and Bree. It’s the only place that I don’t automatically order salad at, probably because they don’t offer it.

After I walked out of Henry’s office, I went back to my desk and allowed myself exactly three cusswords in my head before I texted Bree and Holly to see if we could have some girl time, fully expecting for Holly to say she couldn’t because she never seems to have time for me lately—especially at the last minute. She’s so busy with her new business and with Logan. But to my surprise, both she and Bree were able to come.

“I guess so,” I say. I’ve just told them about my whole afternoon. The email Henry sent out, Brady informing Henry of