Page 29 of Cockpit
It takes him a second to climb onto the mattress beside me. He takes his time setting himself up in his favorite sleeping position—head atop of my bicep so my arm can curl around him with my hand on his belly and both of his feet propped up on my thigh.
“You good?” I murmur and press a kiss to the top of his head. Somehow, he can push away everything that bugs me, just like that. “Wanna tell me about your dream?”
He gives a soft shake of his head. “Too scary.” His voice is drugged with sleep.
“Okay, then think of the one thing that would make you the happiest in the world and focus on that.”
“If all the superheroes in the world could bring me a new mommy . . .”
Cue a knife going straight into my heart and twisting. Over. And over.
I pull him in tighter and press another kiss to the top of his head. “I know, buddy. You do have a mommy who loves you.” I perpetuate the lie I’ve always told him. “She just . . .” She was just too selfish to want to stay.
His soft snores fill the room, saving me from having to finish the sentence.
First my dream.
And then his wish.
Christ. Can I do anything right these days?
“That’s all, everyone. Great job. I think next month’s issue is going to be a great one.” The five contributing editors of the magazine begin to shuffle immediately. Papers rap against the conference table. Murmurs break out as the managing editor asks for a quick meeting with the opinion editor. The staff outside of the conference room window behind Rissa’s back scurry to their desks like they’ve been working this whole time.
I begin to collect my visuals—mock-ups of graphics with logos and ad copy, a detailed breakdown of the social media campaign that will begin with the next round of voting, a brainstorm of different outlets to try to channel support from as well as the ever-important numbers my contest has affected. Advertising intake and search engine statistics and website hits. All the stuff that makes my head spin but is the exact barometer of my success.
“Your numbers are solid,” Rissa says as the last person leaves the conference room, her pseudo-praise surprising.
“They could be better.”
“They could be,” she says as her fingers click over the keyboard of her laptop. “I did some digging on your Grayson guy.”
“You did?” I ask with a glance her way, wondering if she came up with the same run-of-the-mill information I did last night. And secondly, why is she digging anything up on him when he’s my task to figure out? But then again, I failed that part miserably if judged by our last interaction.
“Mm-hmm.” She narrows her eyes and purses her lips but keeps her attention focused on her laptop.
“And?”
“And from the pictures I could find—Mercy-Life staff photos and whatnot . . . you know, the kind we can’t exactly use for our purposes—yeah, he’s pretty damn hot.”
“Told you.”
She lifts her eyes to meet mine for the first time. “Telling me he’s hot is one thing. Telling me you convinced him to be an active participant is a whole other ball game.”
“He’s single,” I blurt out for no other reason than to try to let her know I did in fact find out something new about him. The minute I say it though, I feel stupid, and the laugh that Rissa fights to emit tells me it sounds equally as ridiculous to her.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Tho
rton . . . like tell me he’s agreed to give you new pictures?”
“We’re in talks.”
This time, she can’t win the battle, and a laugh falls from her mouth, drawing heads to pop up like meerkats over the tops of cubicles to see what is so funny. “You’re in talks? That means you don’t have anything, and it most definitely means this.” Her smile widens as she reaches out to a mock-up of one of my advertisements and slides a picture of Braden over the center where I’d planned to put Grayson.
“Uh-uh.” I shake my head. “That’s Grayson’s.”
“Well, until you get a picture of Grayson, it’s Braden’s spot.” She winks as she throws down the challenge. “You’re pretty sure of yourself for a woman who can’t convince a man to be part of a contest.”
I give her a sideways glance to let her know I hear her but don’t want to talk about it. Grayson made his feelings more than clear last night. Now it’s on me to eat some crow all the while figuring out what it would take to convince him to change his mind.
