Chapter 22
In the morning, I nearly cried when Micah set a plate of pancakes on the table before me. Pratosh had shown him how to make them with whole wheat flour, pears, and ginger. He’d jumped out of bed before I woke up and brought me my glucose meter. By the time I’d showered and dressed, he had half the batter sizzling on some kind of state-of-the-art griddle.
He kissed me on the forehead before he joined me with his own plate. “You once told me you hadn’t had pancakes in fifteen years.”
As we ate the decadent and only slightly burned food he’d created (mostly) with his own hands, we had the most wonderfully banal conversation.
I took a bite and moaned with pleasure, and then asked, “What are you going to do today?”
“I plan to burn off this breakfast in my gym, then work on a song I’m writing. Aaaaaaand then I’m going to take a long afternoon nap.” He stretched as if he was going to go to bed the second I left.
I got the impression he threw in the mention of a nap to keep me from interrogating him about the song, so I asked, “What about this song?” His cheeks rose in the first signs of an underground smile, and I knew he was up to something.
Once we were done eating, he sent me off to work—with my snack box and a kiss.
As the driver whisked me away from Micah’s form, receding on the sidewalk, I took stock of my incredible luck—like I’d won the lottery without ever buying a ticket. Could there be a better person in the entire world than Micah? I didn’t think so.
I entered the office for the first time in nearly a week, feeling like I’d been on vacation. I hadn’t seen Zion since Saturday. He gave me a funny look when I passed him, so I grabbed him by the elbow. “I need coffee. Come with me.”
We walked together up to Washington Square Park. He peppered me with questions about Micah all the way, and I told him about driving out to New Jersey and about Pratosh. By the time we got into the park, Zion had all but named our children.
We settled on a park bench to watch people walk their dogs. Zion bumped my shoulder. “Sounds like you’re really happy. Micah’s quite the catch, huh?”
“Yeah, he is. But what’s going on with you and Adrianna?”
He stretched his arms across the back of the bench, one foot crossed over his knee, pleased, downright cocky. “All right. So you know how she followed me on Twitter?”
“Yeah.”
“We started flirting. A lot. It veered off into a very not gray, very not euphemistic, very, very hot conversation. She said she wanted to meet up with me.”
“When was this?”
“Last Friday. I got nervous though and told her the truth. I explained that I’d never been with a woman before, but that I was willing to give it a try. I wanted her to be prepared in case there was an epic failure to connect.”
“So what happened?”
“Friday night, I agreed to meet her at a bar. When she showed, I didn’t even recognize her at first. You’ve seen her now. She changes like a chameleon. We found one of those round booths where we could talk. I scooted beside her, and next thing I knew, she kissed me.”
I elbowed him. “How was it?”
His eyelashes fluttered. “If she’d been dressed in her pop diva magnificence, it would have made me question my identity. But as it was, it felt right. It felt natural. And I knew then.”
“That she’s . . . ?”
“One hundred percent boy.”
“I knew it!” I’d seen her perform her reverse Madame Butterfly in our apartment, so I wasn’t surprised, but still. I felt a stab of remorse for my curiosity. “Oh, my Lord, Zion. I’m sorry for being so nosy. It’s none of my business.”
“Have you ever noticed you only ask the invasive questions when you have no intention of publicizing them? You’re the worst reporter.”
I knocked him with my shoulder. “Takes one to know one.” Zion was sitting on top of a powder keg.
“Ha, yeah. I reckon I’m a spectacular failure in this regard.”
The fact that two tabloid reporters knew her secret raised an important question. “How does that work, exactly? She’s a very public figure.”
He shrugged. “I mean, there have always been rumors, but I figured if they were at all true, she would have gotten caught a long time ago. Can you imagine how many people have to work with her on wardrobe for a single concert?”
“And you have no desire to make a fortune off this information?”
“No way. She’s savvy. She’s prepared for the story to come out eventually. And she’ll share it herself when the time is right. But it would disrupt her career and totally kill her ability to drop into public incognito. And that would kill my chances of having a semi-normal relationship with her. So no. I won’t print this story. And I’m trusting you won’t either.”
“Nope. But why is she trusting us with such a huge secret?”
He leaned his elbows on his knees, hands clasped around his coffee cup, and turned his head up toward me, squinting against the bright sunlight. “Adrianna trusts you because Micah trusts you. Simple as that.”
“And why does she trust you?”
“She doesn’t have much choice, does she? Unless she wants to spend her life locked away, sending text messages. From what she told me, she’s tried it that way, and she’s willing to take calculated risks. I’ve given her my word. I told her I didn’t care one way or the other what was going on with her, but she could tell me. Either way, I want to be with her. And she’s told me everything.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Everything?”
“Yeah. Her whole story.”
We sat in silence while a million questions processed through my brain. None of them seemed appropriate. But this was Zion. “Can I ask you something?”
“Ask me whatever.”
“Is she interested in changing?”
“Doesn’t seem to be. She joked that she’s a heterosexual girl trapped in a gay man’s body.”
I snorted.
“She’s really funny.” He didn’t laugh. Instead, he stared at his fingernails. “Turns out I must be part heterosexual guy because I like her exactly the way she is.” He must have felt as conflicted in the past week as I ever did, but he’d kept it hidden.
“And so she’s, uh—” I blew through my lips, trying to find the right way to ask it.
But Zion read my mind. “Does she identify as female?”
“Is that a terrible question?”
“She’d tell you herself if she were here. Sometimes she identifies as female. Not always.”
“Am I going to have to figure it out? Like should I refer to her with different pronouns?”
Zion laid a hand on mine and rubbed my thumb. “You don’t need to worry about anything. She’ll appreciate that you care enough to want to respect her, but she’s easygoing. People make worse mistakes than grammar.” He shook his head. “And I always thought I had things hard. I can’t even imagine dealing with that. But she just does.”
His comment reminded me of Micah’s reaction to my own burdens. And that brought home just how important this was to Zion. I could get the nuances of Adrianna straight in time. Only one thing mattered right now. “You really like her?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how strongly she feels about me, but I figure she’s taking a pretty big risk if she’s not interested in giving things a chance.”
I processed all that, shaking my head at how complicated and simple everything could be at once. “You make it look so easy, Z.” My current drama paled in comparison to what he’d been dealing with.
“Why borrow heartache?” Zion shrugged and tossed his coffee cup into the trash.
His honesty encouraged me, so I dug the snack box out of my backpack and showed it to Zion. “Would you look at this?” It was such a tiny thing. Micah hadn’t even packed it himself. Pratosh had done all the work. But it filled me with happiness.
Zion popped the lid and smiled at the finger sandwiches and cut vegetables. “He really seems to care about you.”
I debated whether or not to confess, but this was Zion, so I blurted it out. “He told me he loves me.”
Zion handed back the snack box with an inscrutable expression. “And?”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” I swallowed down a lump. I’d been resisting the idea that anyone could fall in love so quickly. And Micah had been careful not to say it again, except when it slipped out in those moments of transcendence. “I mean, what does love even mean if you can feel that way in a matter of days?”
I poked around at the contents of the snack box and nibbled on a square cheese sandwich, something my mom would have made me when I was in school. I realized I was crying. And not just a wistful moistening of my eyes. Tears rolled in heavy drops down my cheeks.
Zion reached over and wiped away a tear. “Honey, do the words really matter? You’re holding evidence that you’re important to him, that he’s conscious of what you need. Isn’t that something worth considering?”
A laugh burst out because this one ridiculous thought passed through my mind. “Are you saying, the snack box is love?”
He took my hand. “Jo, I’m like you. I don’t put much faith in professions, but I put a lot of faith into actions—and so do you. I think Micah’s trying to show you what the words mean to him. He’s trying to show you he can be there for you. Do you trust that?”
I wanted to think I could trust him, but that would have to come in time. “I think he’s sincere.” I took a shaky breath. “And I think I feel the same way, too. Is that crazy?”
He gently knocked my forehead. “Don’t ruin a good thing, Jo. If you know, you know. You should tell the boy the words he wants to hear.”
I did know. I was in love with Micah. I’d never known anyone like him. “I want to. And I will. Today.”
And just like that, the fear I’d harbored lifted from my shoulders. My mom’s life wasn’t mine. And besides, when things were good with my dad, she’d been truly happy. For over ten years, she’d been in love with him. She’d never told me she wished she hadn’t ever met him. I wouldn’t project potential future heartache onto today. I had a choice in the matter. I could choose to be happy for now.
* * *
As soon as Zion and I arrived in the office, Andy stuck his head out. “Jo, is that you? Come in here.”
Since he’d sent me such a complimentary text about my work on Friday, I didn’t think he’d yell at me or fire me. I hoped he’d tell me I could go out on the usual rounds.
“Jo, what do you know about Eden’s pregnancy?”
I stopped dead in his doorway. “What?”
“Eden Sinclair? She’s pregnant.”
“I’m sorry? Why do you think that?”
“Derek. He followed her to her gynecologist and saw her buying prenatal vitamins. It’s not rocket science.”
I slowly walked into his office. “What do you intend to do with that information?”
He sneered at me and transformed into the ugliest human being I’d ever seen. “Print it, obviously.”
My mind reeled. If he printed that now, Eden would be taken completely by surprise. And she’d certainly think I had something to do with it. “But you have no hard evidence. She could have bought those vitamins for someone else. Or to fool you. It would be libel. You could get sued.” I was throwing everything I could out there.
“Sued? She’d have to prove that it wasn’t true. And if it’s not true, she’d have to prove that I didn’t believe it was true. And I believe it. I think it’s very, very true.”
“Andy, you can’t print that. I’ll get you a better story.”
He glanced down at his tablet, and I knew he was about to shut me out. “Keep talking.”
I licked my lips, weighing all the options. In my head, I screamed Shit shit shit! I did have a better story, and it briefly crossed my mind to throw Adrianna under the bus. The buzz from that story would steamroll over anything about Eden and would occupy the paper for months. Andy would commemorate me with medals of honor. But I couldn’t do that to her or to Zion. Not because it was his story to break, but because he never would. And it turned out Andy was right. I didn’t have whatever it took to ruin someone’s life for sport. It would be unfair to Adrianna, and I’d never forgive myself for turning her over to the firing squad. When and if she wanted to share her story, that should be her prerogative.
There were two other far less explosive stories in my possession. Praying one or the other might throw him off the scent, I lobbed the weaker of the two. “I found out yesterday that Eden’s set her wedding date.”
Andy didn’t stop scrolling through photos. “When is it?”
My eyes closed in resignation. “I don’t know. Soon.”
“Then that’s not really news, Scout.” He yawned. “Everyone knows they’re getting married. Nobody knows she’s having a baby.”
In desperation, I threw him my last bone. “I know who Micah’s dating.”
His eyes shot up. “Yeah?”
“Would you postpone the story on Eden for another week if I share that information?”
He snorted. “Are you trying to bargain? This is why I pulled you off covering these people. We should be printing both stories.”
“You can print both stories, just not at the same time. One week, Andy. That’s all.”
He tapped his pen, weighing the options. Honestly, I couldn’t believe my ploy was working. Eden’s pregnancy would be a bigger story than Micah’s next girlfriend, especially since it was me. But he finally said, “Fine. If you tell me right now who Micah’s dating, for the record, and if you’ll confirm Eden’s pregnancy, for the record, I’ll push Eden’s story.”
I exhaled, hoping he could be trusted. “Can I get that in writing?”
“Are you shitting me? Jo, you work for me. Remember?”
I wanted to punch him in the face, but I needed the paycheck. And the health insurance.
“Do I have your word at least?” Desperation colored my voice. If I lost Eden’s trust, I’d never get it back.
I prayed Micah would forgive me for what I was fixing to do. He’d always been so open to the media. Of the two of them, Micah would be less bent out of shape from overexposure.
“Sure.” He crossed his arms. “So Eden’s pregnant?”
I nodded. The blood drained from my face. I couldn’t believe I was betraying Eden to keep her story from coming out sooner.
“How long have you known?”
I looked at my feet. “A week.”
“Jesus, Jo. I should fire you.”
My chin jutted out, and I stood a little straighter, daring him to try that. I’d love to write that report up for HR. “Fired for failing to expose secrets shared in confidence.”
Andy ran his tongue across his teeth. “Is she married?”
“That’s not part of the bargain.”
His lips puckered. “Fine. Who’s Micah dating?”
I’d promised him, but that didn’t make it easier to take the plunge—I was wagering a relationship that hadn’t quite gotten airborne, and on top of that, I was about to become the story. But what could I do? Andy left me no choice, so I gritted my teeth and said, “Me.”
His mouth slowly twisted into an approximation of happy. “Wow. I thought it would take more than that to get an admission from you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You two have been seen all over Brooklyn. But I couldn’t confirm anything. Not until you just did.”
My mind raced through every gesture, every kiss. “You’ve been following me?”
“I’d hardly need to. From the online traffic alone, we could have run a speculative piece. But this is better.”
I didn’t know how. But whatever worked. In fact, if he was going to run it anyway, I felt like I’d at least used the little influence I had for good. Micah and I hadn’t done anything in public that I wouldn’t want my mom to see in the papers. “Great. So you’ll run that and hold off on Eden, right?”
“Yeah.”
Crisis averted as much as possible, I relaxed. “Thanks, Andy.”
He grinned, and I swore his teeth looked razor sharp. “No problem.”