Emily doesn’t wake up until ten o’clock Saturday morning. I had no idea she was a late sleeper when she didn’t have to go to work, but then again, we only dated for two weeks and didn’t spend a full night together during that time. There’s a lot I don’t know about her. I sip my third cup of coffee, standing at the kitchen counter as she walks in.

“Morning,” she says with a yawn.

“Rough night?” I ask. “I didn’t hear you come in.” Not that I wanted to. Part of me was afraid she wouldn’t be alone. That she and Tara had gone out looking to pick up men at Last Call. Sure, Emily was free to do exactly that, but after she ran out of the apartment after I kissed her... I wanted to explain myself. Explain that it was a moment of weakness. What if she thought I couldn’t handle living with her and she moved out? I don’t want that to happen just because I did something stupid.

She finished pouring herself a cup of coffee and turned to face me. “Tara and I had a couple drinks and then went back to her place to watch a movie. I fell asleep on her couch and woke up around three in the morning. Her neighbors were having one hell of a drunken fight, so I decided to drive myself home at that point.” She brought the cup to her lips, and I forced myself to avert my eyes. No need to stare. It wouldn’t do me any good.

“That explains why I didn’t hear you. I was asleep long before that.” I reach for the box of Cheerios on the countertop. It’s one of the few food items Emily brought here. “Hungry?” I ask, opening the cabinet to get her a bowl.

“David, I’m not a guest. I live here now. You’re going to have to stop waiting on me, buying me food...” She lets out a long sigh. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I think we should set some ground rules.”

Like not kissing her? I close the cabinet and put the box of cereal back. “Sure. No problem. I was just used to doing these things for Monica when she lived here. She’s my sister, so I guess I always felt the need to...” I have no idea where I’m going with this because it’s complete bullshit. Besides, she’s clearly talking about me crossing the line with our friendship, and that has nothing to do with my relationship with my sister.

Emily takes another sip of coffee. “Look, it’s probably best if you don’t do things like cook for me, or drive me places, or anything else that’s even remotely like...” She bites her lower lip and meets my gaze.

I run my free hand through my hair. “I get what you mean.” Nothing that remotely resembles her being my girlfriend.

She finishes her coffee and places the cup in the sink. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Enjoy,” I say.

Her eyes linger on me for a moment before she walks out of the kitchen.

I feel like such an ass. I screwed things up by kissing her. I hadn’t meant to, though. It was like I forgot where we were for a moment. I forgot she’d ended things. I down the rest of my coffee and grab my phone from the kitchen table, where I left it charging last night. I dial Dom.

“Hey, what’s going on? I’m getting ready to tee off,” he says.

I palm my forehead. “Sorry, I forgot about the golf tournament. Go. Have fun.” I hang up, feeling like an idiot for the second time this morning. It’s Saturday, and I have no plans. I’m officially pathetic. I could go in to work, but that might make me even more of a loser than I already am. I head to my room, grab my laptop, and get comfortable on the couch. I open my work email and see Aria sent me a message last night. I open it and read.

David, I had this idea and I’ve actually already run it by Emily, but she hasn’t given me a definitive answer yet. Terry is looking for a way to spice up the paper. Give it an edge, you know? So we were hoping you and Emily would be up for doing a joint column. We’d pose you two with topics, and you’d write them up. I know it’s more opinion than news, but with your background, Terry and I figure you could add some research and facts to Emily’s amazing voice. Think it over and get back to me.

Emily never mentioned this to me. Was she ever going to, or had she already decided she didn’t want to work with me? More likely, I made that decision for her the moment my lips touched hers last night. But a column? As much as I love being an editor, I do miss writing stories. This could be the perfect solution. It would also mean Emily and I would have to work together, which I’d love. I always thought it was the piece we did together for Priority News that led to us becoming a couple. What if it could do that again?

No. What am I thinking? Emily doesn’t want a commitment. She’s made that clear, and I have to accept it. Doing this column would be a huge mistake. I hit “reply” on the email.

Aria, while I like the idea, I’m not sure I could swing this. I’m new to being an editor, and I’m afraid to spread myself too thin too quickly. Maybe once Emily and I both have more experience and the paper is running smoothly, we could revisit the idea.

I read it over, making sure none of my true feelings are bleeding through the message. Thinking I’m safe, I hit “send” and sit back.

“Are you working?” Emily asks, coming out of the bathroom with a towel on her head. She’s fully dressed in shorts and a lace tank top.

“Just answering emails. Hey, why didn’t you tell me about the column Aria wants us to write?”

Her face pales. “Column? She never mentioned it would be a column.” She walks around the couch and sits next to me, her eyes flitting to my email inbox. “Did she actually use the word ‘column’ or did you make that assumption on your own?”

Why does it sound like the idea appeals to her? “She said ‘column.’ See for yourself.” I open Aria’s message and turn the laptop so Emily can read it.

“You said no?” She sounds more surprised than she might be if I’d kissed her again.

“Well, she said she already talked to you about it, and since you didn’t bring it up with me, I assumed that meant you weren’t game.” I close the laptop and place it on the coffee table.

She stands up and removes the towel from her head, letting her damp hair fall to her shoulders. “I didn’t realize it would be a column. She only said that she and Mr. M. wanted us to write a few pieces together when we had time. But a column... I’ve always wanted to write one. A lot of opinion editors have columns, and when Mr. M. didn’t ask me to write one, I figured he was waiting to see if I could cut it at the position first.” She’s pacing frantically now, squeezing the towel in her hands. “This might be the only way for me to prove I’m ready for my own column.” She stops pacing and raises her gaze to meet mine. “David, I hate to ask you this, which is why I didn’t bring it up in the first place when I just thought it was joint stories we’d be writing, but is there any way you’d consider doing this?” She steps closer. “For me?”

I can’t believe she’d be willing to work this closely with me after last night, but can I really say no? She’s giving me those big doe eyes. I’ve always loved her eyes. They’re hazel, but some days they look more green than anything else. Especially when she wears green or turquoise tops. I shake the thought from my head, and Emily mistakes the gesture for refusal.

“I understand,” she says, her head lowering. “I shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t fair of me.”

I resist the urge to step toward her and take her hands in mine. I can’t let my feelings for her be this obvious or she’ll never agree to this, and after seeing how much she wants a column, I can’t deny her the opportunity.

“Emily, I wasn’t shaking my head at the idea of writing the column. I was dismissing a different thought in my mind.” Hopefully, she won’t figure out what that thought was.

She looks up at me, and her eyes widen. “Really? You’re saying you’d actually consider this?” She takes a few steps toward me, and I place my hand casually on the arm of the couch.

“Sure. I don’t see why we can’t consider it. I only said no because I didn’t think you wanted to do it.”

“When I applied at Priority News, I dreamed of writing opinion pieces. Why do you think I kissed Edie’s ass so much?”

Edie Maron was and still is the opinion editor for Marjorie Strauss’s paper. She was the most unorganized person at the paper, but she always managed to have her stories edited and submitted on time, so Mr. Monohan never complained. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of us who had to stare at the dump heap that was her desk every day.

Emily is clasping her hands in front of her, looking a lot like a little girl begging Santa Claus for a new bike for Christmas. “I’ll bet you anything Mr. M. wants to give me a shot at a column and figures you’ll help me get on my feet.” Her eyes widen. “Oh, not to say that I want to kick you off the column later on. That didn’t come out right at all. I just mean that putting someone my age on a column by herself—”

I reach for her, taking her by the shoulders. “Emily, you’re a great editor. Forget age for a second. I don’t think Mr. Monohan or Aria wants to pair us up because they don’t feel you’re ready to do this on your own. According to Aria, the piece we wrote together for Priority News was very well received. I think they just want to bring more attention to For the Record since it’s a new paper, and they believe this could do that.”

She nods. “You’re probably right. We did make a great team.” Her eyes fall to my hands on her shoulders, so I release her.

“Okay, so then, I should email Aria back and say we’re in?” God, can I really do this? Work this closely with Emily and not give in to my feelings in the process?

“Only if you’re really okay with it,” she says, but her body language contradicts the casual tone in her voice. She’s clutching her hands again, her knuckles turning white.

I sit down on the couch and pull my laptop to the edge of the coffee table. I open Aria’s email again, only to find she’s already responded.

David, I completely understand. If you two change your mind, let me know.

I’m glad she didn’t say more, not that she’d have any idea Emily was hovering over me, reading my messages. Still, I know the true meaning behind her words. Just like I understood her feelings for Nate before she was willing to admit them, and Nate’s feelings for Aria before he got up the courage to tell her. Yes, Aria knew my position well. I click “reply.”

Aria, I just talked it over with Emily, and we’re on board. I’m assuming we’ll need to work on the column on weekends so as not to mess with our other editorial duties during the week, so go ahead and send us our first topic when you’re ready.

Emily’s beside me now, reading over my shoulder as I type. I turn my head slightly, and she nods. I hit “send.”

I’m not surprised when Aria’s response comes seconds later.

Emily loops her arm through mine, a huge smile on her face. “Do you think she already has a topic for us?” she asks me.

I’m sure she does, but instead of answering, I open the message.

Great! Terry and I have decided you’ll be writing an advice column. We’ve created a fake letter for you to respond to this week, and we’ll run an ad asking readers to email with future topics. We figured you’d both get a kick out of this first topic, so have at it:

Dear David and Emily,

My boss is a first-class jerk. You know the type. Thinks he’s better than everyone. And I’m sure you can guess where he got that attitude from. His mother. Did I mention she’s technically my boss, too? How do I survive in a hostile work environment? I can’t afford to quit, and I’m not the type to seek other employment under my boss’s nose, no matter how much he deserves it. What should I do?

Sincerely,

Tired of Working for a Momma’s Boy

Emily’s laughing hysterically, hand to heart and all. It’s clear Mr. Monohan and Aria are taking a dig at Marjorie and Oliver Strauss, the current owner and editor-in-chief of Priority News. We all remember too well what it was like working with them, which is why we quit.

“Do you think they’ll read this? Marjorie and Oliver?” Emily’s eyes are filled with tears. “Oh, I hope they do. I have such a great response for this.”

I’m glad she’s enjoying this because I’m stuck on the fact that I’m going to be writing an advice column. What self-respecting man writes an advice column? And I’m going to be writing it with my ex-girlfriend. I glance at the clock on my laptop. Is 11:32 a.m. too early to start drinking?