Corner Office Confessions

“Absolutely not. Mason and I—”

“Not Mason,” Kassidy said. “Samuel.”

How did she know these things? “Technically, he kissed me.”

“What else?” Kassidy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What else did you do?”

Arlie could feel the first fine beads of sweat springing out on her forehead. Suddenly she was transported back to the principal’s office, the cracked, faux-leather bench biting into the backs of her thighs.

“I...well...” she sputtered, her cheeks growing hot and red.

“Jesus tailgating Christ. You slept with him?”

“Again, technically—”

“Are you actively out of your goddamned mind?”

“Look, it’s not like I planned on this happening. I ran into Parker Kane the other morning and he was a complete ass to me. Then Mason didn’t show at the photo shoot and Samuel stepped in and the photographer wanted to use us as models and he was holding me and it brought back us kissing on the yacht and—”

“You kissed Samuel on the yacht five days ago and you said nothing to me?” Kassidy’s voice had taken on the steely edge that Arlie recognized as part anger and part calculation. “Since when did you keep secrets from me?”

Guilt crushed Arlie’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.” Her throat tightened as tears thickened her voice, stinging in her eyes. Glancing around the corner, she saw Mason looking in her direction. Arms folded, an expression of concern on his untroubled features.

“You’re my best friend.” These words were a rescue buoy, a life raft, tossed out by the one person in the world who had once known everything about her. “You’ve been through a river of bullshit lately and you’re going to come out clean on the other side.”

Arlie chuckled through her tears in spite of herself. “You stole that from Shawshank Redemption.”

“Is there someone better than Morgan Freeman to humanize a desperate situation?”

“Thank you for making a joke.” Sniffing, Arlie dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I really am lucky to have you in my life.”

Kassidy made a rude noise. “Save that sentimental crap. When you get back, I want details. Length. Girth. Technique. And next time—”

“There will be no next time.” As she said it, the memory of Samuel’s cool, impenetrable visage floated through her mind. How stupidly hopeful she had been, waking to find him in her bed. Believing it had meant as much to him as it had to her. How quickly and effectively he’d made it clear that she’d been wrong.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Really, Kassidy. This could be very bad for both of us. In a lot of ways.”

“Bad is what makes it good.”

God, was she right about that.

“Look,” Arlie said. “I need to get back to the booth.”

“Grope Mason for me.”

“Somehow I think that would only serve to further complicate my current situation.” Arlie nodded at a passing conference attendee who seemed overly interested in her tear-stained face.

“You seem to like complicated.”

It really was irritating, this ability of Kassidy’s to be right all the damn time.

“I better go,” Arlie said. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Arlie disconnected, holding the phone against her chest, trying without much success to return her heartbeat to normal speed.

“Everything okay?” Mason appeared at her elbow, flask in hand, eyes curious.

“Is anything ever really okay?” she asked.