Chapter 7

I realized I'd been grinning in my sleep when I felt something poke my cheek. Opening my eyes, I immediately looked up, knowing I would find his smile, and I did. "Nice dream, huh?" Chris teased, his green grass eyes twinkling, as they usually do in the morning, when he wakes up.

I stretched a little. "Very."

"What was it this time?"

I stuck my tongue out to him as I sat up in bed. "You know my policy about dreams."

"Come on, you know that doesn't count for me." He complained, sitting up as well.

"It does, indeed." I chuckled, stretching a bit more. When I realized his shirt had rolled up, I mildly blushed, and quickly put it back to its place. I wonder whether it happened the same throughout the night. I don't move much when I sleep, especially because he holds me tight, but you never know.

"Do I need to tickle you into submission?" Chris threatened.

I laughed, yet stood up quick, because I knew he wouldn't have mercy otherwise. I stretched a bit more, then grabbed my phone. "Shoot," I cursed when I noticed what time it was, "I'm late for work." I should have known I'd sleep way too comfortably in his bed.

"I'm sure Bea can cover for you." Chris mentioned, stretching as well once he'd gotten up.

"She's an intern, she ..." I trailed off, getting lost at the night of his naked chest. That explains why I slept so comfortably and why it was so hard to let go.

"She what?" Chris asked, bypassing the bed to reach me. He frowned. "Are you ok?" He caressed my cheek.

I shook my head. "Yeah, I ..." I cleared my throat. Damnit, hormones, not now. "I need to get ready for work." I tried to move past him, but he stopped me, placing a hand over my hip.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

I smiled at his sweetness. "Yes. But I'm really gonna get fired if you don't let me move."

"Fine." He chuckled. "I'll take a shower, too." I wish we could share it. "Then I'll drive you."

I shook my head. "I need to be super quick. I'll see you at lunch?" He didn't seem too keen on it, but eventually he agreed, and let me go. Part of me wanted to call in sick and convince Chris to do the same, but ... that would have been childish, right?

--

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" I apologized as soon as I got to my office and found Beatrice, my intern, there waiting for me.

"I didn't know what else to invent with Sheryl!" She complained, getting up from my desk.

"Why, was she looking for me?" I asked, taking off my coat. "I still have a couple of days for the next article."

Bea shrugged. "She said you need to drop that, and go see her. She has a new assignment for you."

"Again?" I rolled my eyes. It's typical of my boss, she changes her mind all the time. Sometimes we have to throughout the whole mockup because she wants to do something different. You'd think we have to keep up to date because we're this incredibly important fashion magazine or newspaper ... science, we talk about science. Or rather, it's a divulgatory magazine that comes out every month with different kinds of articles, science being a predominant topic.

"Yes, she said go to her as soon as you arrive, so ..." Bea informed me.

I didn't waste time, I headed straight out of my office to go see my boss. Before that, though, I turned back to my intern: "Talk to Susan, her article on Neandertals and humans was supposed to be ready yesterday. And see if Lance has the new cover ready, if he does, tell him to hold on until I see what's Sheryl's new brilliant idea."

Bea chuckled as she took notes. "He'll be so happy about it."

I laughed with her for a moment, then headed to the boss' office. Being an editor for a scientific magazine isn't my biggest dream, to be honest, but it was a start, something I found after I graduated. At the time, it was a new magazine, Sheryl wasn't too strict about previous experiences and studies. The good thing about working here, is that I learned a lot of new things in terms of science, history, geography, technology and so on. The downside is, I was supposed to work here only for a year, now it's been three.

Being a copy editor doesn't allow me to do much other than, well, make sure that other people's articles are ready to be published – no typos, correct punctuation, easy enough for our average reader to understand. At least, that's what my boss keeps me doing. I could do so much more.

I knocked on Sheryl's door, and opened only once I'd heard her say come in. "Good morning, boss." I greeted.

She looked up from her stacks of papers. "Oh, finally. What, you got lost on the way here?"

"Yeah, sorry, I ... overslept."

"Right." She stood up, the clinking sound of her heels on the floor felt menacing. You'd think that, such a high-class lady would more gladly work in some rich field, instead she opted for creating a divulgatory magazine. Nothing against that type of thing, I'd just see Sheryl perhaps in politics or organizing funding events. "So," she started just as I sat down and she leaned against her desk, crossing her arms, "I've got a new assignment for you."

"I was just about to finish the article on human languages, I-"

"Yeah, no, leave it."

Right. "Ok. So ... what new assignment."

She grabbed a magazine from her desk. On the cover, a classy lady in her fifties, dressed in white. "Julia Woods, the queen of New York." I read out loud. The name sounded familiar. I'm not big on gossip, but her name is everywhere lately, especially since her son is about to become CEO of one of the biggest companies in the city.

"You have an appointment with her, today at 2 pm." My boss informed me. "For an interview."

I frowned, confused. "I don't ... do interviews." Heck, I don't write articles at all. Not that I wouldn't like it, but like I said, she only has me editing other people's writings.

"Just this once."

"Why me?" I looked up at Sheryl. "Why not Kate or Robert?"

"Robert is busy with other things, Kate entered labor last night."

"Oh." I blinked my eyes. "So, she's going to be on maternity leave." I was kind of happy, she's not a really nice co-worker, she's the type that eats your stuff in the fridge and denies it.

"Yes, you'll be covering for her, but only if this," she placed her pointy finger on the cover of the magazine in my hands, "goes smoothly."

"I ... I've never done interviews." I reminded her. "Except in school, but ... that's a long time ago."

"Kate prepared the questions," she handed me some papers, "and she also did research on Julia Woods and the Woods empire." She gave me a thick binder. "Read it, memorize it. Learn the questions as well, do not read them in front of Mrs. Woods, she hates when people come unprepared."

I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at that stern countenance staring at me from the magazine. She looked like one of those hateful old ladies that is never happy about anything. "Why are we interviewing her? As far as I know, Woods Inc. concerns shipping and deliveries. We're a scientific magazine."

"Julia Woods is at the head of many charities and has been a renown sponsor for different universities in the past." My boss claimed, as if reading off the woman's biography on Wikipedia. "She's funded a few researches."

"And ... that's enough for us to interview her?" I wondered, confused. "Don't we normally talk to scientists, researchers, historians, astronauts ... that kind of crowd."

Sheryl stared at me for a long moment, one of her stern stares that are meant to remind you of all the wrong things you've done in your entire life and that she could punish you for. It's like when you anger your mom and she sees to make you feel guilty even for stuff you've never done. "Vivian," she started, "do I need to remind you what this magazine feed on?"

"Readership, I know."

"Wrong. Sales." Sheryl rolled her eyes, standing up to go sit back on her chair behind her desk. "We sell copies, we are able to work on the next issue."

"Ok, but-"

"Julia Woods is a hot topic right now, Vivian. Her husband recently died in obscure circumstances, her son is about to become CEO of Woods Inc., she's everywhere because of all this and because of the power she holds in this city."

Ah, now I get it. "She bought us, didn't she?" I rolled my eyes. "We're now Mrs. Julia Woods' toy." I guess you can't really expect an independent magazine to go on forever without powerful friends backing it up.

"Not yet," Sheryl corrected me, "but I'm hoping she will."

I frowned. "Are we in trouble?"

"That's not your concern." She hinted at the papers in my hands. "Make sure to do your best."

"You mean make Mrs. Woods look as good as possible."

"Vivian." When she calls my name like that, it's time to shut up before I lose my job.

Hence, I nodded, standing up. "Okay, I'll do my best." This is why I've been thinking about quitting and finding something else. Maybe I really should.

--

Hank is excited!

I groaned when I read Laura's message. I shouldn't have accepted this double date. She doesn't even want to show me a picture of this Hank dude, all she says is that he looks younger than he is. I don't know why would she think I should date a guy that's 12 years older than me, but it's probably not about the guy per se, it's more about what he represents. He's an escape route from my feeling, from Chris.

I was halfway through my Julia Woods studies, when Beatrice irrupted into my office, scared and anxious. "What's wrong?" I asked. She kept fidgeting with her hands, clearly unable to speak, and she looked pale. "Bea, what's wrong?"

"Well, I ... he said ..." she looked behind her, at the door she'd left wide open, "he said ... I mean, he's here for you, and ..."

"He? Who?" I asked, standing up to go to her. Can't be Chris, she knows him, she wouldn't react like this to him.

"He said he's FBI and he's here to take you!" Bea screeched, coming to hug me. "You need to hide! Run! I told him you were not here!"

"What?" When I heard someone laughing from the door, I looked up, and subsequently rolled my eyes. "Adam!" I called. "I thought you were done with that joke."

"I can't," he guffawed, "she served it on a silver plate."

Beatrice pulled back, and looked at him, confused. "You're not FBI?"

"No ..." I sighed, walking over to him, and hugged him tightly, then turned back to her. "This is Adam Knight, Bea. Chris' brother."

"Oh. But ... he showed me a real badge."

He laughed, showing us both said badge: "I stole this from one of my exes. He almost got fired."

"You do know that stealing federal property is a crime, right?"

He shrugged. "Well, he shouldn't have cheated on me." He claimed, pocketing the badge. "He didn't report me, anyway. I bet it's because he's still hoping we get back together."

"Oh, Adam ..." I chuckled, kissing his cheek, "you never change, do you?" We walked to my desk, still hugging. "Does Chris know you're here? Last I heard, you were in London."

"I thought it'd be a surprise, but I needed to see you first."

"Oh. Is everything alright?" I pulled back, concerned. "You're not in trouble, are you?"

"No," he laughed, "I mean, I do have some big news, but that's not why I'm here." Adam claimed, going to sit in front of my desk. "Could I-uh ... get something to drink? You peasants have at least a coffeemaker in this place, right?" He looked at Beatrice. She nodded, and scuttled outside, I'm guessing to go buy him coffee at the bar downstairs, since no, we don't have a coffeemaker nor a vending machine here – Sheryl's against those things.

"So?" I sat at my desk. "What did you want to talk about?" Last time Adam came to me first, before his brother, he was 18 and he was trying to find the courage to tell his family he was gay.

"It's nothing bad," he started, "it's more like ...an offer."

"An offer?"

"Yeah, I have an offer for you. Or rather, my ex-boss has one, I'm just the messenger." I didn't reply, wanting him to continue. Adam works in my same field, except he's had great success, so much so that 3 years ago he moved to London, to become senior editor of a pretty big publishing house. "But first, tell me, how's it going with my baby brother?" He inquired, crossing one leg over the other.

I sighed, sinking into my chair. They're so alike, Adam and Chris have the same eyes and the same way of beating around the bush when they don't know how to introduce a subject. "Come on, Adam, tell me about this offer."

"Ohhh ... I get it, Chris is still the same oblivious bean, isn't he?" Right, Adam knows about my feelings for his brother. I didn't even need to tell him, he found out when I was 20.

I shrugged. "Well, you know how he is ..."

"As thick-headed as a Republican." I laughed and he followed me. "But anyway, what's this offer?"

"Come on, now, we haven't seen each other in a long time, be more polite, Vivian." Adam grinned mischievously. "Oh, by the way, I'm getting married."

"What!" I nearly screeched. "Seriously? That's big news!" I jumped in my chair. "It's Simone, isn't he? That Italian guy you met in London."

"Nope." He replied calmly. "Her name is Margaret, well, Maggie for me."

I gasped loudly, shocked. "Her?" That's not possible, Adam Knight is as gay as it gets. Not bisexual, not confused, not anything else but gay. He'd met this guy in London, they seemed made for each other, so much so that Chris and I had been planning a trip to surprise them and finally meet Simone.

"Yes, her."

"But ..."

"It's a long story. Now, the offer-"

"No, no, no," I shook my head, "you can't just drop such a bomb and then not give me details."

He laughed. "I swear, I'll tell you everything about Maggie," he unclasped his legs, and leaned over my desk, "but first, I need to tell you about the offer."

"It can wait, it's-"

"How would you feel about London, Vivian?" Adam took me off guard.

"What?"

He nodded. "Well, since I'm moving back here, there's a vacancy at my publishing house in London ... they need a new senior editor, and I ... may have dropped your name."

"Are you serious?" I gulped. This is big, really, really big.

"Very. Of course, they can't just hire you without knowing you, but they accepted a trial period." I frowned, but didn't say anything, so Adam went on: "Four months." He said. "Four months as editor for them, and if they like you, it can become permanent."

My eyes widened. Four months. That's a long time away from Chris, and the chance of a permanent situation in London is an even bigger thing. "I ... I ..." I stuttered, "I don't ... I ..."

"Don't give me an answer just yet, Vivian, think about it." Adam suggested, standing up to walk over to me. He lowered, and grabbed my hands, staring straight into my eyes as he said: "I know it's a lot to digest in little time, but it's a great opportunity for you, dear. Do you really want to waste your talents on a small magazine like this?"

"No, but ... I mean, New York is ... and ..." I was really hyperventilating, thinking about every possible scenario where this could or could not happen. But more importantly, thinking about Chris. In the end, it's always about him. I could leave this job, and with Laura and our other friends, we could find ways to keep in touch and see each other often, but Chris ... Chris is a different thing.

As if he'd read my mind, Adam squeezed my hands. "Listen, I know what's your biggest concern." He claimed. "But you should think about your career while you're still young enough to build one. Don't make do based on ..."

"Love?" I bit my lips, regretting that word spoken out loud like that. It's true that Adam knows about my feelings for his brother, but I didn't want him to know that my biggest reason not to leave New York even only for four months was Chris himself.

Adam let out a short sigh. "I love my brother, Vivian, but ... even if there was a chance you two could become more than friends, do you really think you should waste your chances like this?"

"I'm not ..."

"You have. Remember when you could have accepted that job in San Francisco? You didn't go because of him."

"I just didn't like it." I lied, looking away. Just like his brother, Adam has an incredible talent for getting under people's skin.

"Look, you don't have to decide now, I told you," Adam went on, "but please don't refuse just because of Chris. He wouldn't forgive himself and you might lose the opportunity of your life based on a what if."

"Adam ..."

"Just ... think about it, okay? That's all I ask."