18. Harper #4
“You know I can’t tell you that.” I point a finger at him. “I believe you were the one who taught me to never reveal a source.”
“I also taught you to come in for work and bring me donuts, but you’re doing just fine ignoring that wisdom.”
“I almost brought donuts,” I admit, “but I didn’t want to tempt you with sugar. I know you’re watching your cholesterol.”
“Am I?”
I grin at him. “You should be. And the only reason I haven’t been coming in is because my source is really skittish. I’m having to meet at weird times.”
Guilt washes over me at having to lie to him, but the alternative isn’t an option, at least not right now.
I think about what it will be like to come in here and tell him the truth, to expose Ev’s secret, the one that will ruin him and make my career.
I can easily picture the excited look on Arthur’s face when I tell him I have the story of a lifetime for him.
The thought doesn’t bring me any joy. It makes me feel sick and guiltier than I’d just felt while lying to my boss and trusted mentor.
“Well, keep doing what you’re doing,” Arthur says, pulling my attention back to him.
“Your articles are doing better than any we’ve published.
We’ve gained a lot of new readers, and you’re way ahead of everyone else on this.
Whoever the hell your source is, keep ‘em happy, because you hit the jackpot, Harper.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I did.”
“Everything else okay?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I’m good. I’ll send you something else tonight so you can have it ready for in the morning.”
“Sounds good.” He moves his hands, letting the suspenders snap back against his chest while he laughs and says, “Steph is so jealous she can barely see straight.”
I can’t help but grin at that. Steph’s an ass so I don’t feel even a twinge of guilt at taking the lead and pissing her off.
“I’m sure she’ll get her name back out front in no time,” I say, because it’s true. She’s a good journalist, and she’s not going to take this lying down. She’ll be out there working twice as hard to make sure she gets the next big story.
“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “It’s time she learned to share, though. This is good for her.”
When I stand, he joins me and follows me out of his office. Surprising neither of us, we both end up by the donut box.
“Don’t judge,” he says, reaching in for a cherry danish. “You stopped too.”
“I did.” I reach in and take the last Boston cream. “Another thing I learned from you.”
“Oh yeah, lay that one on me,” he says. “Don’t you dare get mad at me when you’re my age and wearing suspenders to hold up your pants.”
I laugh at the image. “Never. That’ll be all on me.”
Taking a bite of my donut, I give him a wave goodbye and then do the same to Jace from across the room.
He waves back and then points to his cell as a reminder that I still owe him a phone call.
I give him a thumbs-up, knowing I’ll be putting that off until the last possible minute and walk out the door.
I’m too excited to be out in the real world to rush back, so I take a very long detour and hit a cafe and bookstore on my way back.
I’m sure whoever Ev has tailing me will realize that I’m just having a bit of fun and not secretly sending coded messages to the nice lady who owns this store.
Since I’m not getting any angry texts from Ev, yelling at me to get my ass back to his place, I assume everything is okay and keep shopping.
I make my way through the aisles until I find what I’m looking for.
Searching through the horror section, I grab a few that I think Ev might like before picking up a new fantasy romance for myself.
I allow myself the illusion of pretending I’m out having a normal day and buying a book for my boyfriend.
I briefly wonder what Ev would think about being called that.
He’d probably go all lawyer on me and point out the discrepancies in the meaning of the word and what we actually have, but I like the sound of it, and since I’m fully anchored in fantasyland, I let the word stay rooted in my mind while I keep pretending.
After the bookstore, I make a quick stop to Watson’s favorite pet store and buy him a few toys and the treats he loves so much before piling it all in my hatchback and calling it a day.
The drive back is peaceful. It feels like something important has shifted.
I don’t feel like a prisoner anymore. I feel like I have a choice, and right now I’m choosing to go back to Ev’s.
I don’t pick my motives apart. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to know the answer.
My hope is that I’m returning because I’ve fallen in love with him and I want to be where he is.
My fear is that I’m doing it because the story isn’t written yet.
I still need information about Sasha’s case, and I still have the story of a lifetime just waiting for me to lay claim to it.
I tell myself I’m here because I love him as I pull past the carriage doors and park my car in its usual spot, and I ignore the voice of fear whispering in my ear that I’m a liar.