"I got carried away," he says, quietly. "We both got carried away. It's what tends to happen with us, isn't it?" He looks up with a tentative smile, like he's hoping I'm going to let him off the hook.
Not a fucking chance.
"Great," I say, getting to my feet. "Great. Fantastic. So I'm the only one who felt that last night, huh?"
He lets out a long sigh. "I didn't say that."
"So?" I cross my arms. "Well?"
"I just think … just because something feels like a good idea, doesn't mean it is." He's still not looking at me. "I'll hurt you, Meg. If I'm close enough to make you happy, I'm going to end up hurting you. That's just the way it is."
I can't argue with him.
It's been months since he reduced me to crying in the bathroom, hoping no one else walks in.
I hate him.
Except I don't. And really, that's my biggest problem.
***
When I get home, I do the only thing I can think of: I call Izzy.
We exchanged numbers before the conference ended, and she told me to call her if I ever wanted to talk. This obviously qualifies, although I'll have to think fast to avoid spilling the big secret.
I manage to get through a version of the backstory that fits in with the idea of me as the author, and him as the editor. Izzy listens patiently, making encouraging sounds, while I rant.
"I don't know what to do, Izzy. I really don't. So I'm probably disowned now, no big deal, right?" I let out a little burst of hysterical laughter. "It shouldn't be any great loss. I mean, I'll be better off without them. I know that. I've tried a thousand times to understand my mom, to relate to her, to make her relate to me. But she acts like I'm a different species. She just can't accept that I'm her daughter. And my dad, he just stands by and pretends he doesn't see it. Adrian was right. It's horrifying, the way they treat me, and the only reason I've put up with it is because I'm supposed to. Well, fuck that. Fuck that and fuck them. But the thing is, I never would have sided against my mom if he wasn't there beside me. He's all I have now. And he doesn't get it."
Izzy's quiet for a moment, letting me finish. "I think he gets it, Nat. I think he gets it, and it scares the piss out of him. That's no excuse for acting like a shithead, but from what you've told me, as far as he's concerned, a committed relationship might as well be a rabid bear chasing him. The way he acts isn't going to be logical or make any kind of sense. He's trying to protect himself, and you."
It makes sense, and I hate that it makes sense. "That's fine. You know what? That's fine. If he doesn't want anything serious, I get it! But if he didn't want a relationship, he shouldn't have acted like this. Sticking his nose into my family affairs. I could have kept the peace. It wouldn't have been great, but at least I'd still have a family."
"I'm sure you can still patch things up with your mom," says Izzy, softly. "If that's really what you want."
"It's not, though!" I can feel a sob starting to form in my throat. "I can't. I can't go back bowing and scraping. Nothing he said was wrong, and my mom deserved to hear it. I won't apologize for him. But I shouldn't have had to, in the first place."
My thoughts are all over the place, and I'm barely making any sense, but at least I realize it. I'm not sure I'm making any sense to Izzy, but at the absolute worst she's pretending to understand, and that's good enough.
"I don't doubt for one moment that he cares about you," she says, at last. "When I saw you two walk in together, I was sure you were a couple. He can barely take his eyes off of you."
It's nice of her to say, but I don't quite believe her. It was sexual tension that she saw, though the romantic in her clearly wanted to interpret it differently.
We finally hang up when I realize I've run out of things to say. She makes me promise to call her if I need to talk again, and I tell her I will. But she's just going to tell me the same things over and over again, and she doesn't know the real story. The years of resentment and impossible standards and sarcastic jabs, all aimed at making me feel inferior to him.
It doesn't take a PhD in psychology to unpack my role in all of this. Really, it's only natural that I sought approval from someone cold and demanding, because it was the only thing I knew. The biggest mistake people make about me is assuming that Adrian's behavior doesn't bother me. Of course it does. I just have a unique ability to tolerate it, thanks to my mom administering a slow, steady dose of the same poison throughout my childhood.
I might be more fucked up than Adrian, but between the two of us, it's a damn circus.
Chapter Fifteen
I've given up on trying to understand Adrian.
After going over and over everything in my head, a thousand times, I can't make sense of it. It's driving me crazy, so I set it aside.
I have to.
Granted, it's hard, working around him. But what can I do? I can't force him to realize how much he hurt me that night, and I know that whatever happened in his head really has nothing to do with me. Deep down inside, I hoped I was important enough to overcome it. I wanted to be the one who made him forget fears, hesitations - to throw caution to the winds.
He's that person for me. I've realized that now, too late to do anything about it.
I'm not sure how many days it's been. I just keep showing up, doing the same tasks I've always done, smiling and apologizing for him, like it's my second nature. Because at this point, it is. The whole time, my mind runs over thoughts and images of me and Adrian. Over and over again, trying to make sense of it. So many times that I've grown numb to the memories. Or so I tell myself.
One Friday morning - or maybe it's a Wednesday, I can never be sure anymore - I stop by his office with some paperwork. He's on the phone, but he waves me in as usual.
"Yes, Kara, I understand that … but the thing is … "
I leave quickly, because I've got no reason to stay. But it would take superhuman strength to avoid doing what I do.
He's talking to her on one of the open lines - I could easily pick it up and listen in. It was probably a mistake on his part.
All the same.
I lift the receiver, carefully. I tell myself that whatever they're discussing, I should be privy to it. As long as I'm continuing to play the role of Natalie McBride, I need to be involved.
They're in the middle of some kind of heated argument. Immediately, I know I should hang up, but I don't.
"- never, not once, have you trusted my instincts." Adrian's voice simmers with barely-restrained anger. "It would be nice if you acknowledged I have some worthwhile ideas."
"Right, like when you had that brilliant idea to make Amanda fat."
Kara's words bite through the air like a whip, and I freeze. For a moment, all I hear is both of them breathing, sharply.
"I thought we were done discussing that." Adrian's throat is constricted with anger. I can hear it; I can picture him clenching his fists under the desk.
"Just trying to make a point," says Kara, her voice deadly sweet. "You wouldn't be where you are without me. And this whole Natalie McBride nonsense is headed for disaster. You need to get rid of Meghan, and come out to your fans. You think they'll be upset that a devastatingly sexy billionaire has been writing about all their fantasies?"
"Now that I've outright lied about it?" He sighs heavily. "Yes, Kara. I do. I do think they'll be upset. I also think my colleagues - the real ones, you know, the ones in the business that actually made me a billionaire - will run me out of town on a rail."
With a sharp exhale, Kara responds. "Meghan's just holding you back, Adrian. It's high time you accepted that. Get over your little crush and move on. You can't keep using these book tours as an excuse to fondle her ample breasts."
She's mocking him, with a term he uses frequently in the books.
She's mocking me.
I hear a click, and I realize one of them must have hung up. I replace the phone in the cradle as gently and quickly as I can, heart racing.
Little crush.
Kara.
Fucking Kara.
But did Adrian … ?
I always knew she didn't like me.
Two months after I was hired, he started writing.
Make Amanda fat.
My palms are damp with sweat. It couldn't be true. Amanda couldn't really be based on me.
Adrian might have given in to sexual tension on our trip, but he doesn't like me. A man like him? No. He'd enjoy a body like mine in private, but he'd never flaunt me on his arm in public. Even if he did buy me that nightie. Even if we did go that fucking 80's prom together. There's just no way.
Tears are threatening in the corners of my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I stare at my computer screen and try to figure out what I should do. What I can do.
Then, I remember something.
There's that discussion loop. The one Adrian temporarily gave me access to, so I could see the messages Kara posted as him. So I could keep my story consistent. He cut me off before I had a chance to look at the really old stuff - and anything that might have been posted before the first book was published.