Page 62 of The What If Guy (The Guys Who Got Away 3)
There were others as well—anthemic ones about not needing a man.
She was right there too. As I walk through the city on my way to work—to a job I earned, a job I love—I realize something powerful.
Something true.
I don’t need a man.
I absolutely don’t.
But I want one.
I want one man.
And I want to be under that man at night, in the kitchen or in his bedroom.
But I don’t want to be a woman who works under that man.
That’s not because of him. And it’s not because I’m worried that others will see me as less powerful, or that my identity is tied up in what my team thinks of me.
This choice is mine. It’s about what I want.
I don’t want to work under any man, or any woman, or anyone.
I don’t want to do that anymore.
When I see Teagan waiting in the coffee shop with two lattes, I march up to her, grin, and say, “I have this crazy idea that I need to run past my best friend in the whole world.”
“All ideas must receive the friendship stamp of approval. So lay it on me.”
As I drink the latte, I tell her, and she practically shakes pom-poms and does cartwheels.
Then, I go into the office and straight to see Isaac, giving him my two weeks’ notice.
33
Bryn
Isaac sighs heavily but smiles. “We’re going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you.”
He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers together. “I knew it was only a matter of time. You were never ours to keep.”
I laugh softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“And I know you are going to do big things.”
“Thank you.” I clear my throat, draw a breath, then tell him one more thing. The hard thing. “Also, since I don’t want you to hear this from anyone else, I’m dating Mr. Clarke.”
“Oh.” He sounds shocked.
But it’s not as difficult a thing to say after all—because it’s true, and because everything about this moment feels right. All of this. “It started before he bought the company. Before either of us knew who the other one was. And that’s what our meeting with you today was going to be about. To let you know. But I guess we don’t have to worry about those details now.”
“No, seems you don’t.” As his eyes narrow, his papa bear comes out with a growl. “Did he pressure you to leave though? I have to ask.”
I scoff, waving a hand. “Absolutely not. I think this has been brewing in me for a long time. I want to do my own thing. Be a consultant. Run my own business and advise others on content partnerships. It has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me.”
He nods and smiles. “Good to know.”
I thank him, leave, and head to meet my team for the editorial meeting. But I stop inside the conference room door.
That’s odd.
Logan is here, holding a Calvin and Hobbes lunch box.
Next I register the frozen tableau of Matthew, Rosario, James, and Quentin. “Everything okay? What’s going on?”
Practically in unison, they gesture to Logan. “He’s Mr. Lunch Box?” Rosario blurts, and I wince.
“Mr. Smolder,” Matthew adds, like I might have forgotten who Mr. Lunch Box is.
I heave a sigh, frustrated that today isn’t going to plan.
I wanted to do things in the right order, at the right time. To tell them I was leaving, then to tell them who I was seeing.
But you don’t always get to do things the way you want.
“He is. But I won’t be writing about Mr. Smolder anymore because . . .” I stop, an unexpected torrent of emotions flooding my throat. “Because I won’t be working here much longer.”
34
Logan
I snap my gaze to her.
What did she just say?
“You’re leaving?” I ask.
“Why are you leaving?” Quentin asks.
“You can’t leave,” Matthew chimes in. Then he stares daggers at me. “Is this because you didn’t call her? What is wrong with you? She’s amazing. How could you miss that?”
Words are on the tip of my tongue. Words like You’ve got it all wrong. And I know how incredible she is.
Rosario hisses at me, leaping from her seat, running to Bryn, and clutching my woman while shooting laser beams at me. “You should have texted Bryn. What you did was not cool.”
My eyes widen. I have no clue what they’re talking about. I want to protest and insist, I did! But my instincts tell me now is the time to shut up.
“Guys!” Bryn laughs, holding up her hands in surrender. “He did call. He did text. We’re . . .” She turns to me, her eyes saying go ahead, and I’ve got no clue why we’re doing it this way, but I trust this woman. She’s clearly got a plan.
“Together,” I say.
“What?” Matthew shrieks.
“But he didn’t text you,” Rosario says.
Quentin rolls his eyes. “Obviously, he did. Can’t you guys tell what went down?”
