In the dream, she was four or five. She could see her hands, small and chubby, pressed to the flat, scratchy office carpet. It was that particular shade of vomitus seventies orange that she would never understand the appeal of. She could see it so clearly, the abrasive nylon fibers, the indented tracks from the wheels of her father's office chair. He was sitting above her, speaking in a low, genial voice into the microphone about community events and traffic.

She'd loved watching him work back then. He'd been so different when he was in front of a microphone, warm and paternal. He'd had this way of laughing, this fond fatherly chuckle, that made it seem like everything was going to be all right. He was rarely, if ever, that way at home—when he did come home. Those had been the good days when he was working at the local radio station and he was home almost every night.

Kathy had been too young to remember much, but her mother spoke of those days with an equal measure of yearning and bitterness. He'd been home, yes, and for a while that had been great. But soon his restlessness grew to resentment, and they both began to wish he were home a little less. By the time Kathy was six, he'd quit and they'd moved from Colorado to Washington for a field reporting job. A few years after that, he and Kathy's mother had separated for the first time. Kathy and her mother had gone back to the family home in Colorado and he'd bounced around all over the world, returning every few months and only for a few days before vanishing again.

Her mother had said their relationship worked better when they didn't spend too much time together.

But all of that was in the future. Right now, she was a four-year-old in jean overalls with a pink toy mic in her hand and a notepad in her bib pocket that she pretended to take interviews with because she wanted to be just like him.

She wasn't supposed to be in the booth while he was recording, but as she stumbled over to his chair and aimed her toy microphone up at him, he didn't get angry. He laughed and lifted her up into his lap. He introduced her to the listeners and kept her there until he finished the spot. He'd been angry later. He'd only taken it so well then because he was recording live and couldn't break character by chewing out his kid on the air.

But in the dream, she lingered there in his lap, leaning against his chest and listening to him talk, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes, woody and romantic in her nose. His chest rumbled under her ear when he laughed, no sound of the cancer already spreading roots there. In the dream, she could stay there forever, long after the news of the day had been delivered, falling asleep in her father's lap.

* * *

Her alarm interrupted the rosy memory with a truly forgettable pop song blasting loud enough to force her out of the safe comfort of her blankets to banish it.

Tessa stumbled into her apartment an hour later as Kathy was pouring them both a cup of coffee, her hair wrapped in a towel still from her shower. They'd started having breakfast together when Tessa had moved into the same condominium a few years ago, and it had become a reliable ritual. Kathy had left the cereal out for her friend.

"So, do you think you're going to see him again?" Tessa asked as they enjoyed their morning caffeine.

"I don't think so," Kathy said, shaking her head. "Honestly, I'm surprised he's still interested after how I acted."

"You don't have that long to find someone," Tessa reminded her. "If you're serious about doing this, maybe you should keep your options open."

"Maybe," Kathy conceded with reluctance, contemplating the swirls of creamer in her coffee.

"Well, it won't hurt you to leave him hanging for a few days," Tessa reassured her. "Just take your time. You could still choose not to do this at all."

"I have to," Kathy said, reasserting it to herself as much as to Tessa.

"It's just money," Tessa reminded her.

"It's not about the money," Kathy said. "Not really. It's the family house, too. And…and it's my dad's last wish."

"Who you didn't like or talk to for years." Tessa sipped her coffee, unimpressed.

"He's still my dad," Kathy huffed.

"I just don't want you to do this for the sake of a man you spent most of your life avoiding," Tessa said seriously.

"That's why I have to do it," Kathy said, struggling to explain. "We never got through to each other. Even at the end, we couldn't connect. I feel like, if I don't do this, this thing he thought was so important he was willing to bet everything on it… I don't know. I'll never get closure."

"Closure is kind of overrated in my opinion," Tessa said with a sigh, sitting back and putting down her coffee. "But whatever floats your boat, hun."

"I need to get to work," Kathy said, checking the time on her phone. "I'll text you later."

"Yeah, you still have to give me the details of what happened with Richard!" Tessa pointed out, but Kathy was already dumping the dregs of her coffee in the sink and grabbing her purse.

* * *

Kathy continued texting Tessa over the course of the day, the other woman dragging the details of the date out whenever Kathy stopped between messages. Tessa worked freelance from home and could keep up a text conversation all day, and Kathy liked to have something to do when the cameras were off of her, so they tended to stay in communication more or less constantly.

Okay, so Dick isn't an option, Tessa wrote once she'd had the full play-by-play of the date. It was nearly the end of the day, and Kathy was in makeup for the last major spot. She focused on her phone while the stylists touched her up for the hundredth time that day.

Let's review the other men you've gone out with recently. Coffee shop guy. Paul?

No stable job, Kathy texted back. Taking a year to work on his screenplay. Plus, one of his other girlfriends showing up at our first date kind of killed my interest.

Okay, who was before that? Tessa asked.

The three stooges from that awful dating website. One was about ten years older than his profile pictures, one was a militant vegan, and one was a self-proclaimed recovered sex-addict. No thanks.

Yeah, gross, Tess agreed. Before that you tried dating at work, right?

Yeah, Ben the camera guy who wanted to film everything, Owen the meteorologist who realized he was gay, and co-anchor Colin.

What happened with Colin again? He seemed nice.

He was. Working together while dating was just too weird. It ended on good terms at least.

Okay, so work is out, that dating site is definitely out, coffee shops and my yoga class connections are a gamble. What next?

Kathy sighed, leaning back in the makeup chair as a stylist surrounded her in a choking cloud of hair spray. She thought for a moment before typing back.

I don't know, Tess, she sent, leaving it at that.

You could always give up, Tessa reminded her. There's no shame in it.

Kathy started to reply when the stylist slipped and jabbed her with the mascara. Kathy, more startled than hurt, yelped and dropped her phone.

“Shoot, sorry!" the stylist apologized quickly, hurrying to clean up the mess on Kathy's cheek. “Are you okay?”

"It's fine," Kathy said quickly, waving her away as she leaned down to get her phone. "I'm all right. I'm more worried about my phone, honestly."

It had hit the concrete floor, hard. She winced looking at the dented edge and newly cracked screen. She restarted it, hoping it would turn on.

"I'm so sorry," the stylist said, mortified. "I'll pay for a new one."

"That's not necessary," Kathy reassured her. "Really, it's okay. I've been wanting to upgrade anyway. Don't worry about it. Let's just finish up."

Kathy was relieved when her phone successfully started up. It looked like just the screen had broken and nothing internal, though she had to squint to see through the cracks. Impatiently, she returned to her messaging app and jabbed at Tessa's name.

I've got to have a baby, Kathy wrote. But with the way these dates have gone, I might as well be trying with you.

It wasn't until she hit send that, through the web of cracks across the top half of her screen, she realized she couldn't see Tessa's previous messages. She tried to scroll up, frowning. Was her phone freaking out after all? It was like all her conversation history with Tessa had been erased. Like the phone thought she was messaging someone she'd never—

Kathy felt her heart stop as, through the obfuscating tangle of broken glass, she realized the name at the top of the messaging app was not Tessa. It was Tehar.

She shoved her phone in her pocket, gripping the arms of the makeup chair like she was about to go flying out of it. Her heart was in her throat trying to strangle her. She had just sent her boss an out of context demand to have a baby.

"Are you okay?" the stylist asked as Kathy suddenly slumped forward and put her head on the vanity. "Did I hurt you after all?"

"I just need a minute," Kathy said, her voice cracking. "Please go tell production to keep going without me. I'll be there as soon as I can."

The stylist hurried off, clearly worried, and Kathy took a minute to take several deep breaths until she could think straight again. This was fine. Absolutely mortifying, but it was just an accident. Tehar would understand. She'd go clear up the misunderstanding right now and everything would be fine. They'd laugh about it, probably! It's not like he was the type to fire a woman because he found out she was trying to get pregnant. Or at least, she really hoped he wasn't.

She planted her hands on the vanity and forced herself up and onto her feet. She just had to march in there and apologize. He probably hadn't even seen the text yet! She'd just tell him what had happened. He wouldn't even care! Or, he'd fire her immediately, maybe.

She was standing in front of the door to his office well before she felt ready. But she needed to get back to the set—if she wasn't about to be fired, anyway. She didn't have time to stand around worrying. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and pushed it open.

The office was empty. She made a distressed noise, looking around like he might be hiding in a corner. Where was he?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and cold dread gathered in a clammy sweat on the back of her neck. She took out her phone, squinting past the broken glass.

We need to talk about this, the text from Tehar read. Will you have dinner with me this evening?

Panic opened up like a yawning chasm in her chest and swallowed her up.

Sure! she texted back. Is eight good for you?

When he confirmed it, she stumbled numbly back out of the office and onto the set, falling into her seat behind the news desk. The rest of the day passed in a wide-eyed blur as she struggled to remain calm and pay attention to what was going on around her instead of the wild panic flailing like a trapped bird in her chest.

As much as she wanted to tell herself that, logically, this had been a mistake and she couldn't possibly be fired for it, the strangeness of Sheikh Tehar's dinner invitation was too pronounced to ignore. She'd never even spoken with the man outside of work. Whatever was going on, he'd clearly taken it as more than just a joke or a mistake. As much as she wanted to focus on her work when this could possibly be her last day, she couldn't stop thinking about the text and how she was going to explain it.

The most humiliating thing was that she'd embarrassed herself in front of the Sheikh specifically after he'd been so kind to her yesterday. If she'd sent something so mortifying to Mitchell or one of the producers, it would have been terrible, and she'd probably still be fired, but to do something so mortifying with Tehar was nearly unbearable.

Work couldn't end soon enough.

As soon as the cameras were off, she rushed to finish up and all but fled the studio, leaving everyone perplexed as to what had happened to her. At home, she scrambled to change, blind panic leaving her confused about where to even find her clothing. She was sitting on her bed in a daze when Tessa knocked on the door.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked as she let herself in. "You haven't answered your phone all afternoon."

"Broke it," Kathy replied, holding out the shattered device. She'd been holding it absentmindedly since work had finished, trying to figure out what to do. She barely looked at Tessa, her expression as blank with panic as her thoughts.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" Tessa sat down next to Kathy, putting the phone aside when she saw how obviously distraught the other woman was. "You can't be that upset about a broken phone."

Kathy shook her head. "Look at the messages."

Tessa frowned but obediently picked up the phone to scroll through Kathy's recent messages. She struggled at first trying to see through the cracks, but Kathy saw her eyes widen as she figured it out.

"Oh my God," she muttered, putting a hand over her mouth. Then she snickered.

"This isn't funny, Tess!" Kathy said, offended. "He wants to see me tonight! I'm going to lose my job!"

"You're not going to lose your job," Tessa reassured her, still giggling. "There's no way he'd fire you over something so silly. It was just a stupid accident."

"You don't know that!" Kathy said, frustrated. "Sheikh Tehar's image is spotless. He has zero tolerance for this kind of thing, especially right now when the company is still recovering from a scandal!"

"It's fine," Tessa insisted, reaching out to take Kathy by her trembling shoulders. "It's not like you CC'd the press. It was a silly mistake."

"Then why does he want to meet me in an hour?" Kathy demanded.

"I don't know." Tessa rolled her eyes. "Maybe he wants details on who you were actually trying to proposition. Maybe he just thinks you're cute."

"Unlikely."

"I know you have a crush on him," Tessa pointed out. "This is a perfect opportunity to see if he feels the same."

"He doesn't."

"Well, now you can know for sure. Come on, I'll help you get dressed."