I crossed a line. Sorry. It’s just a blow, you know? They’ve shut me out. And then you come along…”
“I get it.” She tucked her hair behind an ear, to see him clearly. “You’re not going to like this, either: I want to submit a résumé.” She tugged out the folder with her papers from her bag. “I promise, I’m not trying to take your job, but I do want a job. The universe continues to put opportunities in front of me”—he didn’t need to know that her father had kick-started the universe’s plan—“and I have got to jump on and ride it out.”
Eddie stroked his beard. “I figured.” After a second, he shrugged. “You gotta start somewhere, I guess. I’d just appreciate it if you don’t show me up.”
“No promises.” Her phone beeped. It was a text from Carter. He could get her on a flight later that afternoon or tomorrow. Which would she like?
Hara slid her phone back into her jacket. “Damn.”
“I take it you’re here another night.” He sat on a desk. “Let me make it up to ya. Buy you a bag of arena kettle corn.”
The universe kept giving her the choice to move forward. She’d said she wouldn’t ignore it. When life got hard, she couldn’t just sit down.
“I guess so.” She pushed up her glasses. “I’ll meet you there. In press row.”
On the way out, she stopped in the human resources office. Handing over an application and her portfolio took willpower and a stern warning to her limbs about shaking in public, but she did it.
CHAPTER 10
An unhappy alternative …
—Pride and Prejudice
Hara poked Naomi’s buzzer but no one answered. She tried a few times, standing in a heavy drizzle, and was just about to find a quiet, dry corner in the restaurant, when the door finally buzzed open.
Reaching the apartment, Hara found Naomi waiting for her, appearing an altogether different creature than she had the night before, with dark circles under her eyes, gray skin around her lips, her posture bowed. Even her hair drooped.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks. Want some brunch?” The girl poured cereal into two bowls and placed them on the tiny Ikea table. She seemed to float across the floor, weightless, to retrieve a carton of milk from the refrigerator.
“Seriously, you okay?” Hara frowned.
In reply, Naomi, who had unscrewed the milk container and sniffed it, suddenly recoiled, gagged, and sprinted for the bathroom.
That wasn’t good. “Naomi?” Hara knocked on the bathroom door. She could hear quiet retching sounds. “Can I get you anything?”
The toilet flushed and Naomi emerged, shaking slightly.
Hara handed her a glass of water. “How long have you known?”
“I found out yesterday. I should have guessed sooner. Mornings aren’t treating me so well.” Naomi sat at the table, hunched into herself. She pushed the bowl of dry cereal away.
“I can tell.” They sat quietly for a moment. Finally, Hara said, “You can’t be too far along.”
“No bump yet.” Naomi placed her slender hands over her stomach. “I’m guessing I’m about four to five weeks, maybe even six.”
“Charles? Did you tell him?”
“Yes. Last night. He left right after I told him.” She groaned and put a hand over her eyes. “I am a freaking cliché. He probably thinks this is on purpose, so I can ride his gravy train.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I have no idea.” Naomi wiped a hand across her mouth. “What do you think? What would you do in my situation?”
“Above my pay grade.” Run away, girl, be free, thought Hara. Derek had been the perfect reminder—professional athletes were treated like gods, and too many came to believe they were gods. And, obviously, a good chunk of them didn’t know what “monogamous” meant. Or what it meant to be a good partner. Who needed that turmoil?
“The only thing I know,” said Naomi, “is that I don’t want Charles to someday turn his back on me, accuse me of snagging a money source. I love him. I need him to respect me.”
Hara nodded. “Love” seemed a little much, but who was she to judge? “I get that. Respect means everything to me.”
They were quiet a minute more. The rain had picked up again, creating moving shadows in the dim room and a soft, liquid background music.
“Anyway,” Naomi said. “What’s your plan? What did the airlines say?”
“My editor got me on a flight out tomorrow. I know you said I could stay here, but I swear, if this is too much, I don’t have to.”
“Please. I’m fine with it.