Your competitive moon is eclipsing my happy place sun, jackhole.

“Not much these days, I’m afraid,” he says, expression serious again. “My mom is really into astrology and used to read us our horoscopes every morning during breakfast. Whenever I hear someone mention it I get a little homesick.”

Son of a—

“That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” Daryl swoons visibly. Bringing her was obviously a mistake. I wonder if anyone would notice if I gently shoved her out of the room.

“Unfortunately, I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like, but I’m hoping soon. For the holidays, at least. Anyway.” He straightens his glasses but doesn’t bother to do anything about his hair. Motioning for us to have a seat, he walks back around to his chair. “I’ve been buried in contracts. What’s up?”

“I gather you’ve seen Kylie’s email?” I ask.

He shakes his head and turns to his monitor.

“How are you liking it here?” Daryl asks. “Getting to know everyone?”

I hear the double click of his mouse and watch him quickly scan the email. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “Just making friends, getting the lay of the land. Everyone was a little standoffish at first, but I think I’ve overcome it. Feels like a really good group.”

Just like I did, he rereads the message a few times and then looks up at me. “Is this serious?”

Shrugging, I say, “I assume so.”

“Brad doesn’t think we have enough to do?”

“That, or he thinks Kylie did a shitty job in years past.”

Carter looks up at me disapprovingly. “She’s good, Evie.”

Daryl pinches my arm, and seriously, what the hell? Weren’t we just coming up with hypotheses about why we’ve been asked to do this?

Ignoring Daryl’s attempt to keep me calm, I glare at him. “I’m sure she is, maybe retreats just aren’t her thing?”

He laughs drily, shaking his head as he reads the email again. “You have such a chip on your shoulder about her.”

This takes me a few breaths to process. In the two whole weeks he’s been here, when has he ever witnessed me having a problem with Kylie? And why does he feel the need to defend her to me? My instinct is to pick up his stapler and launch it at his head. But a good agent keeps a lid on their temper unless it’s really necessary to unleash the fury. A great agent doesn’t have a temper, but can unleash the fury when necessary.

The difference is everything. I’m still working on being great.

“Okay, then,” I say calmly, brushing off Daryl’s grip. “I can tell you’re overwhelmed with work. I’m happy to organize this alone, if you prefer.”

Daryl shakes her head. “Evie, I don’t think he’s saying he—”

“I’m not overwhelmed,” Carter cuts in.

“Of course you’re not,” I say meaningfully, and his cheeks go pink at the implication that he’s got a light list.

I glance around his office. It’s certainly more lived in than it was. His walls are covered with framed photos of landmarks on the East Coast, pictures of him with clients, his diploma, a framed copy of his first signed contract. There’s a plant in the corner, and instead of a couch he has two chairs with colorful pillows, a giant ottoman in between. It looks cozy and warm, somewhere you’d sit and chat, make friends, maybe sign a contract or two.

Why does he have to be so damn smooth with everything?

I can tell he’s not going to say anything now that I’ve just dropped a bomb of snark, and Daryl seems to have given up hope of running interference. “Anyway,” I say as breezily as possible, “I just came down here to see if you wanted to go chat with Kylie really quick about the retreat.”

Pushing back from his desk to stand, he wordlessly gestures for me to lead us onward.

• • •

At least we don’t have to reinvent the wheel—Kylie doesn’t really give us anything I didn’t already know: It’s a retreat for the Features department and support staff. We drink, we do team-building activities, we drink. We listen to Brad tell boring stories where he is the starring attraction, we drink. Basically, it’s a giant drink fest with a few team-building games thrown in, which seems easy enough to organize—especially given that we’ll have an events coordinator on-site. I’m now taking my peeved with a side of relieved.

I can’t help but notice that Kylie directs nearly all of her attention to Carter while she recounts the activities she’s put together the last two years. But . . . I can’t blame her, either. I also quite enjoy looking at Carter. But since Carter has pointed out that I have such a chip on my shoulder about Kylie—I mean, what even—I work to look as unaffected by her obvious crush on him as possible. Under normal circumstances, I would ask questions and redirect her attention back to the two of us, but since this situation is completely abnormal, and as long as there is food and booze at this event no one is going to care about other specifics, I can’t be bothered to get too worked up.

It all seems pretty straightforward, and we’re about to walk back to our respective offices when Kylie stops us with a whispered, “Guys.”

We turn back to face her.

She looks almost apologetic and glances around us to make sure no one is listening. “That was all the regular stuff, but just remember: this is Brad’s favorite weekend all year. Add to that the merge, and that people are paying attention to how he runs things, and he really expects it to be . . . like, a big deal. Okay?” Her wobbly smile tells us that she’s relieved she’s not in charge anymore, and it will be a bloodbath if we mess it up.

Carter must sense it, too, because he stops me on our way back down the hall. “Would you have any time to talk this out?” he says in a rush, looking the slightest bit queasy. “I know we’re both busy, but she made it sound like this was pretty intense, and I’ve never been to one of Brad’s retreats. I can clear my afternoon if I need to. If you can, of course.”

I’m already shaking my head. “I’m heading out early to catch someone on set. I’ll finish up around seven or so.” I pause, then wonder if I’m going to regret what I say next. “We could meet after? Unless you have something to do.”