But then, I was sure it was my fault.
“Seeing as I don’t have a clue what to do, what do I even say to Aidan next time I see him?”
Kelly tilts her head and furrows her brow, considering my question. Then her eyes brighten. “I got it! You need to give him a simple, but clear and completely diplomatic response. Same as you do when Star calls and you give them something harmless. Do the same with Aidan. Just say, ‘I have a lot on my plate, but I’m considering your request and will get back to you soon.’ Then, boom! Done!”
I point a finger at her triumphantly. “See! That is yet another reason why I need you. For those kind of perfectly phrased answers to basically buy myself time.”
“I’m sort of a wizard at this kind of thing. So now, let’s talk about something more pleasant. Like the delicious Brit,” Kelly says with a wink. Kelly makes it a priority to stay current on New York’s most eligible bachelors. The list includes Matthew Harrigan.
I flash back to our conversation last night, to the ease of the banter, and then to the Grammys when he said I looked stunning. But yet, I don’t know if any of the things he says are true. “He’s only interested in a story,” I say, as much for Kelly as to remind myself not to entertain non-business thoughts of Matthew.
“Doubtful. But even if that is the case, make him interested in more!”
“I don’t think he’d be into me.”
Kelly huffs. “Of course not. You’re only hot, smart, and a rock star. What’s to like? Can’t think of anything.”
“He’s also married to his job. He’s completely career driven, so I’m sure he’s only being nice to me to get a story. Which is precisely why I can’t even let myself think about anything more than a story.”
“But why not? He’s delectable. Anyone who tracks hot single men in New York knows he’s near the top of the list. So why can’t you consider him?”
Because I’d get my heart broken again. Because he’d probably be harboring some secret too. Because the last seven years of my life turned out to be a lie.
I shrug. “Call it a gut feeling. The question is—should I do the story? From a professional point of view only.”
“It’s a chance to spend time with a baron. Of course,” Kelly says coyly, with a toss of her blond locks. She can’t resist royal possibilities.
I shake my head, because she is relentless. “You don’t know for sure he’s a baron.”
“He might not admit it publicly, but anyone who tracks these things knows he’s Baron Somerset.”
“And you track these things, naturally, my Anglophile friend.”
“Anglophile and peerage expert,” Kelly adds, referring to the system of titles in Britain. “My specialties are exercise, poker, and tracking royalty.”
“Ha. Royalty. Is it really royalty?”
“As close as we’ll ever come in America,” Kelly says. “So, do the story because it’ll be fun. Because maybe you can learn all sorts of juicy, yummy things about his lordship.”
I laugh because Kelly has a way of turning uncertain situations on their head. Finding the fun in things. Finding the opportunities. In this case, Matthew had never publicly admitted it, but he supposedly hailed from quite noble lineage in England. His family owned gobs of land, and he’d inherited the title, as well as the rights to it. It was said that he preferred New York though, and rock ’n’ roll, rather than the lifestyle of a lord back in his homeland. So he kept his baronship as secret as he possibly could.
But New York women have a way of finding out things that make men intriguing. And being a baron is one of those things.
“Look at it this way. Your secrets are already out. You’re an open book. This can be a chance to find out his secrets. Potentially, very interesting secrets,” she says with a wink.
Secrets can be alluring. But secrets can be devastating too.
…
My phone chirps as I leave Harajuku, and button up my coat.
“It’s Jane,” I say, answering the call while heading across town to the Glass Slipper offices.
“Jane Black, it’s Jayden Trent,” the reporter barks. “Star Magazine.”
“Hi,” I say cautiously, wondering how Jayden managed to procure not only my home number, but now my cell. Bold little bastard. He’s persistent and, I must admit, I’m perversely impressed.
“First, let me just say I feel for ya. My sister was just dumped by her boyfriend. He left her for his personal trainer. A dude.”
I nearly stop in my tracks. I’d expected an attack given his tone and his relentlessness. But he’s strangely kind. “Sorry to hear that,” I say.
“Yeah, she had no idea. He was a local city councilman, too. Kept it quiet for a long time.”
“That’s rough. I hope she’s hanging in there,” I say, feeling kinship for his sister instantly as I walk down the street. Maybe I should go to Aidan’s meeting.
“Yeah,” Jayden says with a what-can-you-do wistfulness in his rough voice. “Anyway, between her and you I figured it was time to do a short little piece. Did you have any clue? I gotta be direct here,” he says, but he doesn’t come across as abrasive. More like curious. “Did you just not know at all?”
It’s a question I have asked myself innumerable times, on countless occasions, when I’m awake, when I’m asleep, when I’m dreaming, when I’m breathing.