Love the One You're With (20 page)

“You know, I've been well trained in other, more interesting areas—”

“And that's about enough of Cole,” Jake interrupted, grabbing Grace's arm and pulling her into his office. “See ya, Sharpe.”

“Thought you didn't care,” Cole said in a loud whisper before wandering back down the hall.

“Didn't care about what?” Grace asked.

“Nothing,” Jake grumbled. “Just …” He ran both his hands through his hair, looking more agitated than she'd ever seen him. “I didn't handle that well.”

“Cole's a big boy.”

“Not Cole,” Jake said, exasperated.
“This.”
He gestured around the office where a picture frame of two smiling little boys lay amid broken glass. Grace had also been right about the stapler. It now lay sadly on the floor.

Grace went to the picture and carefully retrieved the photo. “They're cute.”

“Jackson and Matt. My oldest sister's kids. They're even cuter in person. Also a lot noisier.”

“Kids usually are.” Grace set the picture carefully on his desk so it wouldn't be trampled, and began dropping the biggest pieces of glass into the garbage can.

“Grace, you don't have to—”

“Here,” she said, retrieving the bag she'd left on the chair. “Eat.”

He stared down at the bag. “You brought me food?”

“Well, don't get too excited. It's cold now. But you can pick the bacon off. Bacon's good at any temperature. And why are you staring at me?”

“You just watched me have a rather horrific run-in with an ex-girlfriend, and all you do is
clean up, say my nephews are cute, and tell me to eat bacon?”

“It's not like I'm offering to floss your teeth,” Grace said, not looking up. “I just wanted to help.”

“Help?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Fuss over you, or whatever. At least I did before you started acting like a weirdo. Hasn't anyone ever done that? Taken care of you?”

Uh-oh. Now 1.0 had gotten a word in, and 2.0 was
pissed
.

“Sure,” he said hesitantly. “When I go back to Wisconsin, I'm spoiled rotten. But New York's sort of a dog-eat-dog kind of city, you know?”

“It doesn't have to be.”

The words hung between them, awkward and meaningful, although for the life of her, Grace wasn't sure what she'd meant.

And seeing as Jake wasn't meeting her eyes, she didn't think he did either. Or maybe he
did
know and was just choosing to ignore it.

“So,” Grace said, standing and avoiding the rest of the shattered glass, “that girl sure seemed nice. Very gentle and sweet. Tell me about her.”

He gave a crooked smile. “This is going up on the website, isn't it?”

Grace pulled out a pen and notebook from her purse. “Oh, absolutely.”

“Ladies, I've done it. Well, Cassidy and I have done it. We've figured out the grand finale for Grace and Jake's little endeavor.”

Camille paused dramatically in the doorway, but none of the Love and Relationships women bit. Or even looked up.

“ ‘Home Run for Love.' Imagine that in big letters, because we're taking this show to the stadium.”

“Somebody tell her we're not doing that,” Riley said, not looking away from her computer.

“That's a terrible idea,” Julie said, never once pausing in her typing.

Camille huffed. “Emma?”

Emma waggled her head as though contemplating. “Yankees or Mets?”

“Yankees.”

“Better,” Emma said. “Still an awful idea.” She too went back to her computer.

“Grace?”

Grace turned toward her boss. She hadn't really been working anyway. Saks was having an online sale of Jimmy Choos, and retail therapy was better on her hips than chocolate therapy. But since Camille's rambling concerned her rather directly, she might as well state her baseball ambivalence now. Not to mention Jake's rather bizarre, unfounded hatred for the New York Yankees.

“Why baseball?” Grace asked.

“Because
Stiletto
readers love guys in baseball pants?”

Riley slapped her desk and made a buzzing noise as though they were in a game show. “Try again.”

Camille pushed her way into the already overcrowded office and perched on the edge of Emma's desk. “Okay, fine. Alex knows somebody who got a bunch of cheap tickets.”

Julie leaned back in her chair and studied their boss. “This whole thing has been a girls-versus-boys war, and you're seriously suggesting we take the finale on the road to a
baseball
game?”

Grace discreetly fished out one of the chocolate raspberry truffles that Jake had given her when they'd met in the stairwell that morning. It had become kind of a morning thing for them. The shared elevator ride and the exchanged greetings were for their spectators.

But after all that? When they met in the stairwell at ten every morning?

That was just for them. Chocolate was often involved. Also, kissing.

“Why do we even have to have a finale at all?” Grace asked.

The office abruptly quieted, and Emma finally cleared her throat. “Do you, uh … want it to go on indefinitely?”

Yes
.

Grace 2.0 slapped 1.0. Hard.

“I mean, why do we have to make a big spectacle of it? Why not just sort of let it fade out with a ‘Hey, show's over, who won?' ”

“Borrrr-rriing,” Riley asserted. “People are invested in you and Jake. We pitched this as two love experts going toe-to-toe. They want to see the final showdown.”

“That sounds really lovely,” Grace said. “Why not just put us in a boxing ring?”

“Too dark,” Camille said. “The lighting would be awful.”

“Well, gosh, if the
lighting's
awful, let's call the whole thing off,” Emma said.

Grace held up her hands to stop all the chatter, her head starting to spin. This was all wrong. After all they'd been through, it would end at a
baseball
game? Jake was a football guy, and Grace wasn't
any
ballgame kind of girl.

Grace 2.0 cleared her throat.
Well … there are some balls you wouldn't mind a closer look at
.

At that, 1.0 tittered and blushed.

“You won't be able to get Jake in the stadium,” she said confidently. “He hates the Yankees.”

“The tickets have already been purchased,” Camille said decisively. “Of course he'll go. Or he will once Cassidy plays the boss card. And I haven't even gotten to the best part yet.”

“Oh? Had you gotten to the
tolerable
part yet?” Grace asked innocently. “I think I missed it.”

Camille ignored her. “This whole website business has really helped put a face on our
columnists, and people have taken to it. And what better way to reward them and encourage them to stay engaged than to allow them to meet the objects of their obsession?”

Julie groaned, and Riley made a
ruh-roh
noise.

“Wait, you mean have random weirdos meet Jake and me?” Grace asked.

“Just a few of them. We only have so many tickets. But we were thinking that we'd pick a few lucky winners from among the commenters on the website. They'll have to be local, of course. Can't afford to fly them in. But the market research team says there's been plenty of New York City IP addresses active on the site, whatever that means … so we thought, why not?”

“Is that a real question?” Grace asked. “Because I have about a dozen reasons.”

“What's the problem, Grace?” Camille said, her tone signaling that she was rapidly losing patience. “We're not asking you to dance naked on TV. Not asking you to have public relations with the guy. We just want you to shake some hands, sit next to Jake, maybe have a beer, and let the people who've followed your journey decide once and for all.”

“Decide what, exactly?”

Camille clapped her hands in excitement. “That's the best part. Alex and I have come up with a perfect way to close out your loop on the website.”

Mayday, mayday, mayday …

“Yesssss?” Julie said, when Camille's pause for dramatic effect lasted about twenty seconds too long.

“Will they or won't they?” Camille said with a grand flourish.

“Wait, how is that going to decide who
wins
?” Riley said. “This is supposed to be a competition. I want to see some girl-power!”

“I don't think that's the most important question here, Riley,” Emma said.

“The hell it isn't,” Riley argued, punching the palm of one hand with her fist, like some sort of tomboy ready to take out all the boys in dodgeball.

But Grace barely heard her. Just what the hell did Camille mean,
will they or won't they?

Will they or won't they
what
?

And if the
question
terrified her, just what would the
answer
do?

* * *

“I'm guessing you heard Camille and Cassidy's grand plan?”

Grace took a bite of pizza and washed it down with the soda that Jake held out for her. They'd slipped away to the West Village for his favorite by-the-slice hole in the wall.

“I heard,” she replied. “And I know there's no way in hell they'll get you into Yankee Stadium, but I, for one, am delighted. Being on display at a baseball game has always been a
big
dream of mine, you know?”

“Has it?” he asked as they settled onto a park bench to finish eating their pizza. “Funny, we haven't covered that yet in any of our getting-to-know-you sessions.”

“That's because our getting-to-know you sessions are really just research for one-upping the other. Speaking of, what did you think about my assertion that only men with small weewees find it necessary to buy the ‘meat lover's special' pizza?”

“I took note,” he said, toasting her with the soda cup. “And did you notice my pizza order today?”

Grace nodded and took a bite of her veggie slice. “Plain cheese. Very nice.”

“Very
manly
, you mean.”

She grinned. “Yes. Very manly.”

“Excellent. Do you have your phone with you? Perhaps you could just make a little update to that blog post, letting the women of New York know that my boring cheese pizza means I have a massive member?”

“Please. You know I never lie,” she said as she used her thumb to wipe a glob of sauce from his lip.

Jake put a wounded hand over his heart. “I believe there's a solution to this little disagreement. A redo.”

“A redo.”

“Yes. My penis is being unfairly misrepresented. I want a chance to prove to you that it's absolutely fitting for a man who's comfortable ordering just cheese.”

“Said by a man who two days ago ordered the meat lover's super-duper heart attack combo.”

“You're avoiding the topic.”

She unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile. “Am I?”

“Come on. You miss me.”

Yes. “I thought we agreed that was a one-time thing. Scratching the itch and all that.”

He leaned toward her until his lips were against her ear. “I still have the itch.”

Grace's throat tightened as her mouth went dry. “Oh.”

Oh, sweet Jesus
, Grace 2.0 moaned in despair.
Sleeping with him once was a freebie to free you of Greg's mind games. Two is relationship territory. Beware
.

Grace 1.0 fought back.
Sexually liberated women are allowed to have sex with whomever they want
.

Not when they're falling for the guy
, 2.0 retorted.

Grace nearly choked on her Diet Coke. Where the hell had
that
come from?

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Of course it's a good idea,” he replied. “Sex is always a good idea.”

“Says the guy who's had it with half the women in Manhattan.”

Her voice came out sharper than she intended. Jake had been in the process of putting his arm on the back of the bench, but he stopped, reversing directions and crumpling up his napkin in a fist instead.

“I shouldn't have said that,” she said quietly.

“Why not? All the society pages do.”

“Since when have you cared about that?”

Jake remained stonily silent, and the easy camaraderie of the afternoon vanished. Suddenly she understood what Emma had meant when she'd said Grace was playing with fire by “going off the grid” instead of having lunch near the office, where they could at least pretend it was only for the sake of work.

But on an overcast day in the park where there was nobody to track their every movement, she had to face the truth.

She was here because she
wanted
to be.

“So, you know my nephews?” he asked, not looking at her. “The ones in the broken picture frame?”

“Sure. Jackson and Matt.”

His face had the oddest expression. “You remembered their names.”

“And?” This non-flirty Jake was always so weird.

“It's their birthday next week. They're two years and two days apart.”

Grace sat up straighter, clapping her hands together in excitement before she could stop herself. “And you want me to help shop for their gifts? I'm so in. My cousin Charlotte has five boys, and I always buy the best—”

Jake looked both exasperated and nervous. “No, I don't want you to help shop, Grace. I mean, yeah, actually, that'd be great, but that's not what I'm asking.”

She frowned. “I'm confused.”

He ran a hand over his jaw, looking half amused, half nervous. “You know, if I weren't so damn terrified of this, this would put me in the lead in the competition. You're being wildly dense right now.”

“Or you're being wildly vague.”

He took a deep breath. “Ever been to Wisconsin?”