“She’s exaggerating,” I said.
“I’m not.” Erin was firm, which only served to annoy me. How she could pick today to trip over her backbone was beyond me. I much preferred the days when she kowtowed to my whims.
“Did Avery tell you she was getting married?” Fish demanded, his gaze momentarily dropping to my naked ring finger before he shot Erin a probing look.
“She said Eliot informed her he’s planning to propose,” Erin answered primly. “He said he wanted her to get used to the idea so there weren’t any freak-outs when the big moment does arrive.”
“Really?” Fish’s expression was difficult to read.
“He’s being smart about it,” Erin continued, oblivious to the death glare I was shooting her. “Avery is the skittish sort, but she usually calms down after a couple of meltdowns. Telling her this way, she can get the meltdowns out before he pops the question.”
“It is smart,” Fish agreed, his lips curving. “Did he give her a timetable for this proposal?”
The fact that he was talking about me as if I wasn’t in the room had my hackles up. “I’m right here,” I reminded him. “You could ask me.”
“You’ll lie. I prefer talking to Erin.”
That was the story of my life. Still, his explanation chafed. “I won’t lie. That’s not who I am. I’m a truth-teller, for crying out loud.”
Fish snorted. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think when I see you. Avery Shaw, truth-teller, demure flower.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re trying to irritate me.”
“That takes very little effort.” Fish’s grin was pronounced as he looked up. The way he shifted his stance told me someone else was walking down the hallway. I sensed trouble, but before I could warn him about spreading gossip — and that’s what all this marriage talk was after all, unconfirmed gossip — he was already talking. “Guess who’s getting married?”
I wanted to find a hole to crawl in ... and die. My cheeks burned hot as the publisher, Jim MacDonald, rounded the corner.
“Well, I would think it would be Erin,” MacDonald said, smiling. “Given how upset Avery looks, though ….” He jutted out his hand in my direction. “Congratulations. I can’t say this is a surprise but, still, I wasn’t expecting it just yet.”
I stared at his extended hand. “I’m not getting married.” The words came out shriller than I expected and I worked hard to adjust my tone.
“No?” MacDonald cocked his head “Erin and your esteemed editor seem to believe otherwise.”
“That’s because they’re crackheads. Perhaps you should institute mandatory drug testing. That might help the newsroom crackhead situation.”
MacDonald kept his face impassive but mirth lurked in the depths of his eyes. I already hated authority figures, but the distaste I held for him was suddenly growing.
“Just for the record, if I start demanding drug tests, you’ll be the first on my list,” he noted, folding his arms across his chest.
Given the fact that he was standing and I was sitting, he was in a position of power. I wanted to remedy that, but if I hopped to my feet too soon it would look as if I was running. That wasn’t the message I wanted to send. “I can pass a drug test,” I reassured him.
“That’s good to know.”
“My cousin Lexie dates dealers. There are ways around drug tests,” I added.
MacDonald’s smile slipped. “Really?”
Crap. Here’s the thing: I never think before I open my mouth. Through the years, I’ve learned to accept that I’m a blurter of the highest magnitude. That’s simply who I am. Sometimes it works to my advantage because of my quick wit and acid tongue. Other times, like now, it turns into an alligator in the toilet situation.
In other words, I was about to get bitten.
“Don’t listen to her,” Erin interjected, swooping in to save me. She always helped when she sensed somebody in need, even if she would’ve been wiser keeping her mouth shut and remaining off the radar of the big kahuna. “She’s just nervous. Eliot knew she would be, which is why he did things the way he did. I think it’s romantic that he knows her so ... intimately.”
The way she paused before the last word made the statement sound dirty. “Oh, don’t go doing ... that.” I jabbed a finger at her. “There’s nothing romantic about this situation. In fact, it’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” Fish was back to being amused. “I thought the entire thing was some big mistake.”
“It is.” Fish acted like a proper boss, but he was as gossipy as the rest of the staff. Not me, of course. I was a big proponent of minding one’s own business. No, really. Oh, stuff it. “Honestly, who would want to marry me?” I was trying to be self-deprecating and sweet, but I worried the lopsided grin I gave came across as deranged.
“I’ve asked myself that question many times,” Fish admitted. “When you first joined the staff, I was convinced you were a little rough around the edges but would grow into that attitude. I figured you would be one heckuva reporter with time.”
I preened under the compliment.
“I was only half right,” he continued. “You’ve turned into a great reporter, but as a person you’re a mixed bag.”
My smile slipped. “I’m a great person.”
“You’re still rough around the edges. The initial error was mine. I assumed you would grow up. Now I know you’re destined to be who you are. As for marriage, I was convinced no man would ever put up with you. I turned out to be wrong.”
I recognized that he was trying to placate my nerves, but it didn’t make me feel any better. “Have you ever considered that Eliot might be mentally unstable?” Even I couldn’t believe the question was coming out of my mouth, but I barreled forward. “I mean, he could have an undiagnosed brain tumor or something. That might be why he thinks I’m marriage material.”
“Oh, I’ve been wondering about his mental health for a good two years
