Again, Carrie answered with a lift of her shoulders. “I’ve spent the better part of the last two days and nights going over a variety of scenarios. I have to believe Finn will have a change of heart.”
“You mean he’ll come back for you?”
“No … he won’t do that.” That wouldn’t be his way.
“I don’t understand,” Sophie said, speaking softly now.
“He’s going to regret the lie that he doesn’t care, doesn’t love me, and so he’ll make it up to me the only way he can.”
“And how’s that?”
“He’ll ask me to be the one to break the story on him.”
“Of course.” Sophie vaulted to her feet and clapped her hands. “Of course. It’s brilliant. And you’ll do it, and then …”
“No.”
Sophie froze. “No?”
“No,” Carrie repeated. “I’m going to refuse.”
“Stop.” Sophie planted her hands on top of her head. “This is like a chess game, and I’m losing track of the moves. If he wants you to write the piece, then why won’t you do it?”
“Because if I refuse it will force his hand.”
Sophie scratched the side of her head as though puzzled. “I don’t follow.”
“Finn wants me to publish something about him because it will salve his conscience. It’s the one way he has of apologizing, of letting me know he loves me. But I won’t do it, because it’s the only way I can think to let him know I love him. It’s the one thing I can do to tell him my feelings haven’t changed.”
Sophie sat back in the chair. “You’re losing me, girlfriend.”
It was a gamble for sure, Carrie realized. And until she got word from Finn, she would need to keep silent. There was a chance, of course, that she was completely wrong and she would never hear from him again. For now, it was a waiting game.
The first week of December passed. Long, torturous days in which there was complete silence from Finn. Somehow Carrie got through her and Sophie’s little Christmas gathering. She managed to smile and even laugh now and again. It was a great party, everyone said, and Carrie was grateful she was able to pull it off. The only person who seemed to notice that Carrie’s spirits were low was Sophie.
“I’m having a hard time dealing with this guilt,” her friend confessed. “I feel like I’m to blame. I look at you and I want to cry. You’re so miserable, and it’s all my fault.”
Carrie did her best to reassure her friend. “Don’t worry. These matters have a way of working out how they’re meant to be.” While she might have sounded confident, Carrie was anything but.
Another week of silence followed. Carrie lost weight. Sleep felt like a luxury.
On Friday a few days before Christmas, just before quitting time, the office threw a small party. Carrie was scheduled to fly back to Seattle in the morning, to be with her family, and she was getting ready to head home to pack when she got word that Nash wanted to speak to her in his office.
She knocked against his door and stepped inside. Without looking away from his computer screen, he motioned for her to take a seat.
Carrie complied.
“I just got off the phone with some New York publicity woman,” he said, frowning at her as if seeing her for the first time. “How is it that you know Finn Dalton?”
“Who says I know Finn?” she parried with a question of her own.
“You said you were determined to find him, as I recall.”
“So I did.” She folded her hands in her lap, afraid the trembling would give her away.
“Well, congratulations. It seems you looked under the right rock, because this PR person called to tell me Finn Dalton is ready to let someone interview him. The surprising part is that he requested you, and he claims you already know everything there is to know. He’s requested you write the piece.”
Carrie’s eyes drifted shut. This was exactly the news she’d been waiting to hear. She’d been right. Finn had offered her the assignment. A sense of release and joy rushed through her. He was as much as telling her that he loved her. She pressed her hand to her mouth, fearing she was about to break into sobs.
“I can see you’re pleased. I’d be crying with joy, too. I don’t know what you did, but congratulations. This is one of the biggest coups this newspaper has had in a long time. How soon can you write the piece? If possible, I’d like to have it for the weekend edition.”
“Sorry, Nash, Mr. Dalton’s publisher is going to need to find someone else.”
“What?” Nash nearly came out of his chair. “Is this a joke? If so, I’m not laughing.”
Now wasn’t the time to back down. Carrie had to remain strong. As badly as she ached to give in, she couldn’t do it. “I hate to disappoint you, but you’ll need to find someone else.”
Nash shook his head. “The publisher insists you have to be the one. No one else.”
It was exactly as she’d calculated. “Sorry.” She blinked back tears.
The hard-core newsman glared at her. “Your job is on the line, Ms. Slayton. This newspaper can’t afford to let this opportunity slip by. I’m giving you twenty-four hours to change your mind.”
Losing her job was an aspect of this decision that she hadn’t considered. Carrie swallowed hard and bit into her lower lip. “It won’t matter if it’s twenty-four hours or twenty-four days. I’m not going to change my mind.”
Disgusted, Nash shook his head.