Love at 11 - By Mari Mancusi Page 0,59

I can find out.”

I turned back to my desk for some computer-assisted reporting. Last year I’d taken a course on how to use online resources to help research stories, but had never gotten a chance to put any of my newfound knowledge to use.

“So, uh,” Jamie said, still awkwardly lingering. “They found my bike.”

“They did?” I exclaimed, turning around again. So much for keeping the conversation professional. “That’s great!”

I wanted to hate him. Wish for his misfortune. But instead, seeing the relief in his eyes, I realized I only felt delight that he’d gotten his precious motorcycle back.

“Yeah,” he said. “Someone evidently took it on a joyride, then dumped it a few miles away. A patrolman spotted it and called it in. Only a few scratches. No major damage.”

“That’s great, Jamie. Really great.” I tried to sound enthusiastic as my heart pounded at the awkwardness between us. It was as if we were strangers now. Next thing you knew he’d be bringing up the nice weather we were having lately. I couldn’t bear it.

“So, um, tonight we’re scheduled to go to Mexico,” I informed him, trying to turn the conversation back to work-related stuff before I broke down. “My whistle-blower, Miguel, is going to take us to the other end of the drug tunnel. You up for it?”

“Sure,” he said easily. “Actually, I could use the overtime.”

There were probably a million reasons he could use the overtime. Rent. Fixing the scratches on his bike. A cool computer he saw advertised on Craigslist. But there was only one reason my brain could latch on to.

Wedding expenses.

Jamie was getting married. To Jen. To have and to hold, ‘til death did they part. I swallowed hard and attempted to will away the ache in my heart. I had to accept this. Start seeing him as just another coworker. A soon-to-be-married coworker. Otherwise I was seriously going to go crazy working with him. I felt my throat constrict as regret threatened to consume me.

If only I had left him alone to begin with. Not allowed myself to start something I knew in my head could only lead to disaster and heartbreak. But, no. I’d pursued a man who was unavailable. I deserved this misery.

“Um, right now, though, I have nothing for you to do,” I said hastily. I could feel the tears prick at the corners of my eyes, threatening to fall. I needed him to leave. Fast. Before he saw the hurt. Before he saw how much he meant to me. “You should go check in with News. They probably have some fires for you to chase or something.”

“Trying to get rid of me?”

“No!” I retorted, throwing him a glare. A glare to hide my embarrassment at being called onto the carpet. “It’s just that … Richard … um, told me if I didn’t have anything for you to do, I should give you to News. They can always use an extra photographer.”

“Fair enough.” Jamie rose from his seat and headed out of the cubicle. “Have a good day, Maddy.”

I waited for a moment, until I heard his footsteps fade away, then put my face in my hands. I rubbed my eyes in frustration, probably ruining my eye makeup. Why did this have to be so hard?

“Madeline!”

What now? I looked up, surprised, as Terrance entered the cubicle. He sat down in David’s chair. Oh great. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. The last thing I wanted was for Terrance to see me crying. He was the biggest gossip on the planet.

“Did you see the piece?” he asked, his eyes shining his enthusiasm. “Isn’t it fabulous?”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” I told him. “And I’m sure it is wonderful—Mike’s a great editor. But—”

Terrance huffed. “Mike is a pain in the ass, if you ask me. I had to sit in there the whole afternoon, telling him how to do his job. If it weren’t for me, that piece would look completely different.”

I was pretty sure he was right about that one. But perhaps not in the way he meant.

“Anyway, Madeline, you were so lucky I had some time to spare to teach Mike how to do his job. I mean, did you really plan to simply leave him alone to edit without any guidance? What would you have done if I hadn’t stepped in? Though, I have to say, my efforts paid off handsomely. The piece looks—”

“Fabulous. I get it.” I sighed. “But, Terrance, do you think maybe that you might have just