Rearranging the office space according to Emily’s plan took a few days, but we called the staff writers in to help—also Emily’s suggestion. Aria had wanted to surprise them with it, but Emily said it would be better to bring them in on the project and work with them to make it happen. Of course, she was right.

“You know, Emily, if you keep this up, I’m going to worry about my job soon,” Aria says, looking around at the new open layout of the office. “You are definitely managing editor material.” She squeezes Emily’s shoulder before walking back to her office.

“She’s right, you know,” I say, stepping up beside her. She’s been standing by the giant schedule on the wall, color coding as much as she possibly can on her own. “Would you stop working for a second and look around at what you’ve created?”

“I just have to finish this last section.”

I take her by her shoulders and spin her around, forcing her to look at the desks in the circular rows.

“It kind of looks like a bull’s-eye,” she says with a smile.

It looks like perfection. Everyone is happy. The staff writers are all smiling and interacting with the editors. “You made everyone feel at home here.” I lean closer and whisper, “You broke down the walls—literally.”

She laughs. “They needed to go. You know I always hated them.”

“That’s why you usually came into my cubicle and shared my chair,” I say, realizing too late that the comment was crossing a line. “And why you and Alex shared a cubicle to work on his article,” I add, hoping it’s not too late to save myself.

“This is better. We’re all one team.”

“We are.” I cross my arms and continue to stare at everyone. “Speaking of teams, we still have a column to write.”

She turns to me with a look of panic on her face. “I completely forgot! How did I forget?”

“Relax.” I rub her arms with my hands, but that only makes her tenser, so I stop. “We can write it tonight and have it on Aria’s desk first thing tomorrow morning. She’ll have all day to get it ready to go to layout.”

She nods. “Okay. We’ll write it tonight. Do you have the letter we’re responding to?”

“Aria emailed it to us both.”

“God, I haven’t checked my email all day. I probably have a thousand stories waiting to be edited. I need to get to work.” She turns and looks at the giant calendar. “I have to finish this, too.”

“Okay, give me this.” I take the dry erase marker from her hand. “I’ll finish the calendar. You go take care of your emails and story edits.”

“But I—”

“I’ll get the schedules from the other editors. Maybe I’ll even ask a staff writer to help me,” I say, smiling at her.

She nods. “Good. That’s a great idea. Ask Sasha. She’s really smart and a workaholic. Not to mention she’s already turned in her story.” She starts to walk away but stops. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I say. I watch her walk back to her desk. She talks to the staff writers she has to weave through on the way. I could just imagine Oliver Strauss in an environment like this where people are forced to interact with each other. He wouldn’t last a second. But Emily loves it.

I spend the rest of the day finishing the calendar with Sasha’s help. Like Emily said, she’s really great. I can see her moving up the ranks here. She also thinks the world of Emily, so we get along just fine.

“Is the rumor true?” Sasha asks me as we fill in the last square on the calendar. “About you and Emily?”

“Depends what the rumor is,” I say, not wanting to offer any information if I don’t have to.

“You two live together?” Sasha caps her marker with a loud click as if punctuating her question.

“Technically, yes. In the way you’re implying, no. We’re roommates.”

She cocks her head. “Didn’t you two date for a little while?”

“A very little while,” I say. “You know how it is.” I hope that will appease her. I’m afraid to start for my desk because with the new layout, there’s no such thing as a private conversation. I head to the break room instead, and Sasha follows. Maybe the room will finally get some use.

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking,” Sasha adds.

I open the refrigerator and take out a bottle of water. I hold one up to Sasha, but she shakes her head. I uncap it and take a sip before answering. “We realized we make better friends. I’m sure you’ve been there before, right?” I shrug, trying to play it off as a regular occurrence.

“I’m not trying to pry—seriously, I’m not—but I’ve seen the way you look at her. That’s not the way a friend looks at another friend.” She turns and peers out at the newsroom floor. “She gets that look around you, too, but she tries not to let you see it.”

She does? “You’ve seen it?” I ask, trying not to sound too curious.

She looks back at me and nods. “I hate to see people who clearly are interested in each other constantly look the other way. Is it the work thing that is keeping you two apart? Or maybe the living arrangements? I get how being roommates can make it more complicated.”

If anyone else were having this conversation with me, I’d tell them to mind their own business. But Sasha is a very genuine person. If she takes an interest in something, it’s not because she’s looking for gossip. She’s actually interested in it.

“I guess that does play a part in it,” I say. “But to be perfectly honest, I’m in awe of Emily. I think she’s absolutely amazing. It’s hard not to look at her and not let that show. That doesn’t mean I want to change my relationship with her, though.”

Sasha nods again. “That makes sense. I think you’re a good guy, David. A really good guy. If I weren’t still convinced you feel more for her than you’re willing to tell me, I’d probably ask you to dinner sometime.” She turns and starts walking out, but she pauses and puts her hand on the doorframe. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I never feed the rumor mill. And since you haven’t confirmed anything, I can’t be sure of anything, right?” She winks at me and walks out.

Was I becoming Nate? Am I openly gawking at Emily the way he did with Aria? Maybe I need to date someone to get my mind off Emily. I could take Emily’s approach with that guy she’s seeing. Be upfront and tell the woman I’m not looking for anything serious. The problem is when a man says that, he’s a pig who is only looking for sex. Only women can get away with that line. And that’s exactly what it would be for me—a line. I’m not the type to date around. I really did think that elderly couple at the golf course was sweet. I want that some day. I want to grow old with someone, share a life with her. The problem is, every time I picture that happening, it’s with Emily.

* * *

The pizza deliveryman knocks on the door at exactly seven o’clock. “Thirty minutes, as promised,” I tell Emily. “Told you they’re never late.” I get up and answer the door. Emily follows me with her wallet, but I already have the money in my pocket and I’m not letting her pay this time. This whole split-the-bill-every-time thing is getting old very quickly. I open the door and hand the delivery guy a twenty.

“Keep the change,” I tell him, recognizing him as the same guy who always delivers to me. Last time he was here he looked exhausted and told me his wife just had a baby. I can’t imagine he makes much as a pizza deliveryman, so I don’t mind tipping him a little extra to help him out.

“Thanks, man.” He opens the hot box they use to keep the pies warm. “I threw in some garlic knots for you, too,” he says with a smile.

“You’re the best, T.J.,” I say, taking the pizza and paper bag on top of it.

T.J. gives me a nod before walking away.

“You know him?” Emily asks when I shut the door.

I shrug, carrying the pizza to the kitchen. I grab a few paper plates from the cabinet and place a slice on each. “Garlic knots?” I ask, opening the bag to retrieve the container.

“Sure, and I owe you six dollars and fifty cents.”

“You can get the pizza next time,” I tell her. I carry my plate and the garlic knots to the coffee table.

“You want an Amstel Light?” she asks from the kitchen.

“Sure.” I sit down and open my laptop, but I don’t check my email for the column topic yet. I want to get some food in me first.

Emily walks to the living room with her plate in one hand and two Amstels in the other. She also has a stack of napkins under the plate. “Thought we’d need these,” she says, placing them on the table between us.

“Thanks.” We eat in uncomfortable silence. I polish off three slices and half the garlic knots before I wipe my hands clean and open my email.

“You were hungry,” Emily says. She only ate one slice and two garlic knots. I’m sure because I wouldn’t let her pay for half.

“I skipped lunch today. Things were too crazy at the office to take a break.”

“Tell me about it. I only managed to eat a granola bar while I was running around.”

I motion to her plate. “Then you should probably have another slice. Don’t be bashful. It’s never as good reheated anyway.”

“Ah, but it is good cold for breakfast,” she says.

“I only ate it that way once, and it was when I woke up with a hangover. Pizza was the only food that didn’t make me feel like throwing up everything I drank the night before.”

“Been there,” she says, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “So what’s our column topic this time?”

I read the email Aria sent me aloud. “‘Dear Emily and David.’” I pause because I like the ring that has. Emily and David just sound good together.

Emily returns to the living room and sits, placing her pizza on the coffee table. “Short letter,” she teases.

“Sorry, I think I’m in a food coma. I zoned out for a moment.” I focus on the email again. “‘I’ve been dating this guy for about a month now, but he isn’t ready to commit. I really like him, and the idea of him being with another woman is driving me crazy. I don’t want to be the jealous, possessive type, but I can see a future with this man. The question is: Can he see one with me? I’m afraid to have the talk with him because it’s so early in the relationship, which I guess isn’t even really a relationship if he’s seeing other women, is it? What should I do? Sincerely, Looking for a Commitment.’”

“Wow,” Emily says.

“Wow” is right. This letter hits a little too close to home. “Do you want to respond first?” I ask, wanting to know how she’ll respond. I get the feeling she’s afraid of commitment, too. Or maybe she’s only that way because she hasn’t found the right guy yet. But if it wasn’t me and it’s not that celebrity lookalike, then what is her perfect guy like?

“No, you go first. I need to think about this one a bit.”

“Same here. Want to think out loud? Bounce ideas off each other?” I ask, sitting back on the couch and turning so I’m facing her.

Her face pales, like she’s horrified by the idea.

“Or not,” I say.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s just that I don’t know where to begin. I mean, how old is this woman? How old is the man? Age can factor into whether or not a person is looking for a serious commitment.”

Even though Emily and I are only a few years apart in age, she seems to be stuck in that college mentality that relationships don’t last. I wish I knew why. She’s committed to her career, so obviously commitment in general doesn’t scare her.

“What’s the right age to start looking for a potential...?” I’m not sure what word to use that won’t send her running.

“Please don’t say ‘mate.’ I hate that word.” She shudders.

I hold my hands up in front of me. “I wasn’t going to. That’s always sounded horrible to me, too. Like the only purpose of a relationship is to procreate.” I’m not looking to settle down and have kids anytime soon, but I would love to find someone to wake up to every day. There’s a big difference.

“Yeah, I’d say the age for that kind of thinking is much older.” She tugs on the ends of her hair, making me wonder if she’s trying to avoid my eyes.

“So what’s the age for committing to a relationship without the promise of procreating?” I ask, not ready to let this topic go yet, even if it is visibly making her uncomfortable.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s probably different for everyone, but I’d say a few years after graduating from college—if that’s the route the person takes. You should be settled into a job and know who you are first. And what you want in life.”

“Go on,” I say, glad she’s finally opening up.

“Too many people think they know what they want, but when you’re young, it’s hard to be sure. Look how many relationships end in bitter fights or divorces. Or both.” Her voice lowers when she mentions divorce.

“Are your parents divorced?” I ask.

She nods. “And my grandparents. And both sets of my aunts and uncles. Sometimes I think human beings aren’t capable of committing to anyone but themselves.”

“That’s sad,” I say. “It makes it sound like people are all too self-centered to really care about anyone else.” If that’s really how she feels, she’ll wind up alone for the rest of her life.

“Maybe they are. I certainly don’t have any examples of lasting relationships.”

“So you don’t think people should even try?” I ask.

“Not necessarily. My former roommate is getting married, and I’m happy for her. I’m worried for her too, though. I hope she realizes the risks she’s taking. I mean, you plan this big fancy wedding, spend thousands of dollars, and then in a few years, you divorce and find out it was all for nothing.”

“Not all risks wind up as failures. Look at you. Monohan took a risk by hiring you as an editor so early on in your newspaper career. And you’re doing fantastic. You have a column and everything. That was a good risk to take. In fact, I wouldn’t even call it a risk. It’s more like a leap of faith.”

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I hope she’s contemplating what I said. She eats the rest of her pizza, and I drink my beer in silence. I don’t know how else to make my point. She has to come to the conclusion on her own. I can’t force her hand. I pick up the laptop and open a blank document. I tap the keys, contemplating my response.

Dear Looking for a Commitment,

The only certainty in life is that nothing will happen if you don’t try. You can continue to date this man and hope that he realizes what he has with you and makes that leap of faith to give you two a real shot. Or you can talk to him, tell him how you feel, and see if he feels the same way. He might be waiting for you to make the first move. He might assume you’re dating other men. You can’t be sure until you talk to him. So be brave and go after what you want. And if it doesn’t work out, then it wasn’t meant to be, and at least you’ll be able to move on.

David

When I finish I reread it. I can’t think of anything else to say, so I hand the laptop to Emily. After she reads what I wrote, she doesn’t immediately start typing like she did last time. Instead, she hands the laptop to me and stands up.

“I can’t do this right now,” she says before rushing to her room.

I stare after her. So much for getting her to open up to me. This column might be the thing that drives the final wedge between us.