She didn’t voice the thought that came immediately after. That no guy would have cheated on a woman like Emma Sinclair.
“Please. That’s what people say about you,” Julie said, exasperated. “You and Emma are practically the same person. Cool, calm, classy …”
“Sarcastic … judgmental … a little prissy,” Riley added.
Grace’s conscience pricked at her as she imagined Emma sitting out there alone in cubicle land. She ignored the guilt, but it only pricked harder. Crap. Finally, she stood, snatching the Skittles bag out of Riley’s hand. “I’ll be right back,” she grumbled.
She found Emma almost immediately, and her guilt doubled when she realized the poor woman was being treated to one of Oliver’s slideshows.
The fashion editor fancied himself an up-and-coming photographer with a “riveting” knack for the everyday. The trouble was, there was rarely anything riveting about Oliver’s day-to-day, which meant that getting a “first look” at his latest shoot involved blurry shots of taxis and “poignant” close-ups of skyscrapers.
Pretty much every New Yorker’s Monday.
“Hey, Emma, you got a sec?”
Emma turned around, her eyes registering surprise for a split second before she gave a polite smile. “Sure, what’s up?”
Oliver gave an annoyed huff before flouncing back to his desk.
“I believe this is yours?” Grace said, plopping the candy bag awkwardly onto Emma’s desk.
“Ha, yeah. Sorry about that. I have so many of these, I don’t even know when one’s missing.”
“Yeah, I do the same with Hershey’s Kisses. Or at least I used to before all of this set up residence.” She patted her increasingly pear-shaped hips.
Emma gave a polite smile. One that Grace recognized, because she had the same May I help you? expression in her own repertoire.
“Look,” Grace said nervously. “I saw the lineup for the next articles, and it looks like you’re doing one on the resurgence of singles events?”
“Yup. Camille’s idea, but I think it’s a good one.”
Grace gave her friendliest smile, which felt a little bit stiff, but hey … she was trying. “Well, seems to me that fits under the Love and Relationships section.”
“Yeah …”
“So? Why aren’t you sitting with us?”
“Sorry?”
“There are four desks in our office,” Grace forged on. “It’ll be a little crowded, but if you don’t mind the fact that Riley is always eating, and Julie reads through her articles out loud when she’s writing her first draft … but of course, you know all that from when I was gone … Which is cool. I mean, thanks for covering for me …”
Uh-oh. Wimpy 1.0 was doing the talking.
Grace 2.0 stomped on babbling Grace 1.0’s toe. Shut up.
“I’d like that,” Emma said, putting an end to Grace’s rambling. “If you’re sure you don’t mind. I know you three have a pretty tight dynamic.”
It was true. The three of them had been, well … just the three of them forever. But she supposed even the best things could use a change once in a while.
“Of course I don’t mind.” Much.
“Well … great. I’ll start moving my stuff over later,” Emma said.
Loud, irritated clacking noises resumed from the other side of the cubicle wall, and Emma and Grace made eye contact as they both carefully avoided laughing. As usual, Oliver was showing his irritation in the most passive-aggressive way possible.
There was a reason nobody sat by him for long.
Grace was almost back to her office, feeling rather self-congratulatory about her maturity, when Camille’s assistant flagged her down.