After the Kiss (Sex, Love & Stiletto 1)

Ouch. Hold on a sec, boss. Let me just remove my spleen and let you stab at that too.

Julie’s hand went up to fiddle with her necklace, almost as though she could protect her vulnerabilities from Camille’s too-shrewd observations.

Then realization dawned. “That’s why you assigned me this story. You normally only ever assign topics to the new kids, but you ordered me to write this one.”

Camille nodded. “I thought it would be good for you. I wanted you to allow yourself to open up. To connect with a man on a more meaningful level.”

Julie didn’t know if she was touched or completely appalled. “Camille,” she began carefully, “it’s true that I’ve always been a bit … shallow when it’s come to relationships. But that’s been my own choice. Not because of my role at the magazine. I shaped my stories to fit what I was, not the other way around.”

Camille pursed her lips. “It probably seems that way. But you started writing when you were twenty-two, very early into your professional and personal development. I think the two shaped each other. And as long as you were writing about the easy stuff in relationships, that’s all you were going to experience.”

“I really wish you hadn’t interfered,” Julie whispered.

“I know that now. I wanted you to experience something meaningful. Something real. But this …” She waved a hand over Julie in dismay. “Your outfit clashes, your roots are showing, your brows are a mess—”

“Gosh, the useful revelations just keep coming.”

“My point is, I shouldn’t have stuck my cosmetically enhanced nose in your business. I just wanted you to have a chance at a real relationship. Maybe even a chance at love. Instead I handed you a broken heart.”

Julie didn’t bother denying it. “You couldn’t have known how it would turn out.”

“No, but I should have put my foot down when I heard about your fool-headed scheme to manufacture a relationship. That wasn’t my goal at all. But then Kelli was champing at the bit, and I was stuck between delivering a blow to the magazine and letting you suffer a more personal blow of having your position usurped. I should have chosen differently.”

“It was my choice to make. It was the wrong one, clearly. But I had to make it for myself.”

Even if it cost me everything.

Camille nodded, but her expression was still troubled. “So you still plan to write the story, then? Because I’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

Julie hadn’t seen that coming. She’d been planning to write the article. She didn’t have the energy to come up with a fresh idea, and the city was practically panting for it. And it wasn’t as if she had anything to lose at this point.

But Camille’s attempt at mothering was unexpected. And knowing that Camille was willing to sacrifice magazine sales for her employee’s well-being? Unheard of.

Julie chose her words carefully. “You just said that the publicity from Allen’s article would make this one of our best-selling issues. I need to write it. Without my article, people will be pissed.”

“So let them be pissed,” Camille said with an indifferent shrug. “No magazine is worth a heart.”

Julie swallowed. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Camille leaned forward. “So you did care? About him, I mean.”

“Very much.”

“Then write about it.”

Julie resisted the urge to rub her temples. This conversation was getting exhausting. “I thought you just told me I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t mean write about that abstract idea we came up with two months ago. I mean write about what you learned. Write about your heartbreak. Write about him.”

Julie exhaled slowly through her nose. “Camille, with all due respect, I’ll write what I said I’d write because I’m a professional. I’ll write about the subtle difference between dating and being with someone. I’ll even sprinkle in some of my own observations. But I’m not going to spill my guts to strangers. Yo

u’re the one that told me that Stiletto isn’t a diary. Please don’t ask me to turn it into one.”

Camille gave a small smile. “A good speech, Julie. And I can tell you mean it. But somewhere in the midst of this train wreck, you unintentionally tapped into something we don’t cover often enough at Stiletto.”

“What’s that? Manipulation and skanky journalism?”

This time Camille let out a full-on laugh. “No. If I wanted all that, I’d ask Kelli to write a farewell piece. But I meant your heartache. As a magazine, we’ve never paid tribute to an inevitable part of many relationships: the breakup.”