An hour later, we’re eating pizza and Nate has filled me in on his work situation.

“You know what you have to do, right?” I say, taking another bite of my second slice of pepperoni pizza.

“Not a clue. If you know, please enlighten me.” He takes a swig of Corona and leans back on the couch, his arm resting along the top.

I laugh and wipe my hands on a napkin. “You show up tomorrow with coffee and donuts for everyone at the office. A goodwill gesture to say you’re happy to be part of their team.”

“I’m buying their affection with coffee and donuts?” He furrows his brow.

“That’s not all. It’s only the start. Next, you’ll praise their work.”

“What if I need corrections?”

“You still praise the work but tell them how it could be even better. You’re also going to give them some control by distributing a questionnaire that will allow them to tell you which stories they like to cover the most. That will let them see you want them to be happy with what they’re working on. Then you’re going to spend time with each person to get to know them better. Pay attention to photos on their desks, who has children, who’s married—those sorts of things.”

“Next you’ll have me kissing babies. I’m not running for president.” He reaches forward and brushes a strand of hair from my face before it falls into my pizza.

I put the slice down on the paper plate on the coffee table, clean my hand with a napkin, and pull my legs up under me on the couch. Nate and I never thought about touching each other. Little things like putting my hand on his leg to comfort him or smacking him playfully on the arm—none of those meant anything. But now... Even the slightest brush of his fingers sends my hormones into overdrive. I know it’s because I finally gave in to these feelings. I know what it’s like to be with Nate, and now that’s all I want.

“Sorry. Did I foil your plan? I suppose I could kiss one baby, maybe two.” He smiles, his lips curving in the sexiest way imaginable.

I clear my throat. “No. No babies.” Babies with Nate... My mind goes off on a tangent, and I have to shake my head to clear it. “You have to show these people you are one of them now. That you aren’t taking anything away from them, but rather giving them more control.”

“What would I do without you?” His voice is soft and low, rivaled only by the warmth in his eyes.

I look down at my chipping toenail polish. “You’d probably get fired, have to move back to New Jersey, and grovel at Oliver’s feet for a job as a staff writer.” Humor, my go-to to avoid any awkward situation.

He laughs. “You’re probably right.” He nudges my knee with his. “So, what are your plans? Are you going to talk to Monohan about working for him?”

It’s my best option. I wouldn’t even have to interview. Although I can’t help thinking maybe all this happened for a reason—so I could move on to a larger paper like The Sentinel. If only they were hiring. “Most likely.”

“You’re welcome to hang out here for a few days if you need a break to clear your head.” He reaches for my forehead, brushing his thumb across it. My heart skips. “I can see the wheels turning in here.”

A nervous giggle escapes my lips. “I’d love to take a few days off, but if I do, Mr. Monohan might have his positions filled by the time I go back.”

“Call him.” He removes his phone from his back pocket. “Here. Do it now. Then you can relax, and I can enjoy a few days with my best friend.” He holds the phone out to me, even though he knows I have my own.

“You just want me here to help you get through this mess at The Sentinel.”

“That might be part of the reason, but I really do want you to stay.” His fingers drum on the back of the couch as if counting down to my response. “Come on, Aria. You owe me after not saying good-bye.”

I can’t believe he brought that up. Things are going well between us. If we complicate it by talking about what almost happened at my apartment... “I’m not sure this is a good idea. I can’t run from my problems.” Yet that’s what I’m trying to do. Run from these feelings.

“Then don’t.” His hand latches onto my arm and turns my palm over. He places his cell in my hand. “Call Monohan. Fix this.” There’s a silent so we can fix us attached to the sentence.

I take a deep breath and let it out, yoga-style breathing. “Fine.” I dial Mr. Monohan’s number and put the phone to my ear.

“Dixon, don’t tell me you’re in trouble already,” Mr. Monohan answers.

“No, Mr. Monohan. It’s Aria.”

“Oh, hey. Did Nate call you to bail him out? It must be worse than I thought.” He laughs.

“Sort of. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“You want a job.”

“That obvious?” I look to Nate for emotional support, and he places a hand on my knee.

“Look, you left Priority News for me. Of course you have a job at my new paper if you want it. In fact, I need a managing editor.”

“Really?” My eyes widen, and I grab Nate’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“I need some time to get things together. I don’t even have a name for the paper yet, so I can’t guarantee you any work for about two weeks minimum. But after that, the position is yours if you want it.”

“I do! I do!”

Nate tilts his head. “Are you marrying him?”

I smack his arm, and it feels good. Familiar. Friendly.

Mr. Monohan laughs. “Okay, but there’s one condition.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“You have to call me Terri. I insist.”

“No problem. Thank you.”

“I’ll be in touch. And tell Nate I said he’s got this.”

“I will.” My eyes meet Nate’s, which have been trained on me the entire conversation. “Good night Mr.—Terri.”

“Mr. Terri. Well, I suppose it’s a start. Good night.” He hangs up.

“So?” Nate asks.

I launch myself into his arms, hugging him tightly. “I’m going to be managing editor, just like you.” I turn my head and nuzzle his neck, which isn’t a good idea at all. His scent overwhelms me, and I pull back to avoid doing something stupid, like kissing his neck.

Nate stares into my eyes, not saying a word, and I imagine him telling me to stay with him. To take a chance on us here in Pennsylvania. His lips claiming mine for now and for the rest of time. My heart nearly tears in two when he finally opens his mouth and says, “I’m so happy for you. When do you start?”

I swallow the hurt and stare at my hands in my lap. “Terri is going to call me in about two weeks when everything is up and running.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay here for a while?” His tone is hopeful, but I don’t get too excited. He wants his friend’s help fixing things at the paper. That’s all this is. Nothing more.

I stand up. “I need to use the bathroom. Would you excuse me?”

“Sure.” He motions toward the half bath next to the kitchen in case I’ve forgotten where it is.

I walk barefoot, having kicked off my sandals long ago. Closing the door behind me, I lean my back against the towel hanging from a hook on the back of the door. A shaky intake of air makes me steel myself against the tears. I can’t break down in Nate’s bathroom. I’ll never be able to explain the tears away. I step forward to the sink and splash some water on my face. Using the hand towel, I dab my face dry. My eyes are more gray than blue today, and even my blond hair is looking drab. No wonder Nate sees me as nothing more than a friend. I wish I had the sex appeal Charlotte does. Maybe then...

I shake the thought away. It won’t do any good to think of what might be. I have to focus on the present. I’ll stay a few days, help Nate get on his feet, and then it’s on to the next step in my career. Focus on the positive.

I force a smile and return to the living room to play the part of the loyal best friend.