Chapter Sixteen #2
“Have you checked your messages?” Rip scrolled through his phone. “I have three missed calls from Neil.”
“I’ve got two.” I wasn’t about to mention the all-caps texts where Neil asked me point blank if Rip and I were sleeping together. “You still think we shouldn’t tell him the truth? I know you want to wait, but I hate lying.”
Rip set his mug on the counter. “I know you do. And if it matters that much to you, tell him, but like I said, I have to concentrate on the game right now.”
“I guess it can wait a few more weeks.”
He cupped my face. “Don’t think you’re not important to me, because you are. It’s just—”
“Hey, stop. It’s okay. I’m not worried you’re putting me second. Even I understand what the last few months and weeks of the season mean.”
He pulled me into his arms. “Has anyone ever told you you’re the best fake real boyfriend ever?” His warm mouth hit mine.
“No,” I answered when I could breathe again. “You’re the first.” The scariest thing was that I wanted him to be the last.
He pressed another kiss to my lips. “I gotta get to practice. We have some big games coming up, and I intend to win them all.”
“Of course. I understand.” I returned to the sink to wash the breakfast dishes, but I sensed him lingering. “What’s the matter?”
“What about tonight? If you can’t make it earlier because of work and you have to miss some of the game, I’ll have a ticket waiting for when you do come. You can see as much as you can, and then we’ll leave together.”
Could I be any happier? Dishwashing liquid be damned, I put my arms around him. “I’d like that. A lot. I’ll try to make it so I can see most of the game. It just depends on how the day goes and what Bryan needs for the sports segment tonight.”
“As long as you come home with me, that’s all I care about.”
We finished up and left. Rip took a car, but I walked to the subway, even though he said he’d have the car take me to Midtown. If we were going to make it work, little things like that would have to get ironed out. He might be a millionaire, but money wouldn’t hold power in our relationship.
I made it to the office, and my phone rang as I was about to sit at my desk. “Adrian?” Rosalind sounded brisk. “Rob wants to see you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I set my bag on the desk and did an about face. Rosalind tipped her head when I approached. “He’s waiting.”
“Great.” I hoped I wasn’t going to be sick all over the floor. I knocked and winced at his stern “Come in.”
Was it brusquer than usual? Was he mad? I hadn’t screwed up. I knew that for a fact.
He was sitting when I entered and didn’t stand to greet me. Should I take that as a negative sign? I kept quiet and waited.
“Take a seat, Adrian. I assume you got home early enough to watch the show?”
“Yes. And I thought it went very well.”
“You did, hmm?”
I lifted my chin. “Yes.”
He smiled. A real, actual curve of his lips, startling me.
I couldn’t recall seeing him not snide or condescending to me.
“I did too. I’ll admit you surprised me, in a good way.
You have to work on your opening a bit, but that will come with practice.
The more shows you do, the easier it will become. ”
“Practice? More shows? So you’re going to keep it? Playing the Field is going to be a regular Sunday-night slot?”
“I’m not promising anything yet. I’ll need to see the ratings and have a meeting with Ed Riley, the station manager, but I can’t see a reason why he’ll feel any differently than I do.”
Of course it would be unprofessional to do a happy dance in my boss’s office, but I couldn’t contain my elation. “Thank you. I’m going to work really hard to make sure it’s a must-watch.”
He played with the pen in his hands, and I could see something else weighed on his mind, so I waited, barely breathing.
“I know you think I’ve been tough on you, and maybe I have. Do you know why?”
I hadn’t expected this kind of conversation with Rob.
It seemed almost personal, and we didn’t go beyond surface stuff—good mornings and good-byes, ratings and schedules.
But I’d grown in the few months I worked here.
I started out as a nervous little grunt, scurrying through the halls, fearful of being noticed, but now I wasn’t afraid to stand up for myself. Make my voice heard.
“You were testing me. To see how far I’d let you push me before I pushed back.”
His lips kicked up. “Bingo. To succeed in this world, you need to look everyone in the eye and tell them you’re the best at what you do, even if you’re not. To believe you’re ready.”
“I am ready, and I’m going to prove it to you with this show.”
“You’ll be able to prove it in other ways as well. We want to send you to follow the Blades’ playoffs.”
“Me?” My brows drew together. “What about Bryan? He’s the sports guy.”
“We need him here in the studio to do the sports.” Rob frowned. “Are you saying you don’t want the assignment? Frankly, it could give you the edge as to whether the station decides to go with your show or not. You need the airtime.”
I recalled Louie telling me how I should stop putting other people’s needs ahead of mine. I wanted to be with Rip more, and this would be the perfect way to achieve my goal. And hearing that Rob was in my corner was pretty damn important.
“I’ll do it. Thanks. You won’t regret it.”
“Make sure of it.”