He lifts a single teasing brow at the assumption that I would beat him at all. My pulse does a little jump, and I guess Daryl was right. I like competing with him. Who knew? And oh my God, we’re talking this out. We’re interacting like adults, in person.

“Besides, I like you. Dummy.”

His hands come forward, finding my hips and pulling me closer so that I’m standing between his legs.

“Just ‘like’?”

“Maybe more.”

He growls a little, leaning to kiss my stomach once through my dress, then again, a little lower. “How can I get you to sign with me?”

“Keep doing that.” As he kisses, and apologizes again, and lets his hands slide around and to my ass, over my thighs—remembering—my fingers find his hair, and I close my eyes, tilting my face to the ceiling.

I don’t care about this office. I don’t care about this agency.

I care about my clients. I care about this man.

“Dan hasn’t signed the contract yet, but he has given me the verbal commitment. He wants to work with me.” Carter hesitates. “He wants me more in a manager role, as well as agent. You know that legally, I can’t do both. Caleb wants to move back to New York. I’d have to figure out how that could work.”

I nod, but he doesn’t see it. My silence doesn’t seem to bother him. He wraps his arms fully around me, squeezing as he presses his face to my hip. But then he seems to remember something and pulls back, looking up at me.

“If you weren’t mad, why did you look so panicked when I came in?”

When I try to smile, it comes out a little broken, so I give up and shrug instead. “I just get the feeling I’m not going to be here very much longer.”

He studies my face, quiet for a few seconds. “Something’s going on with Brad. With you, I mean.”

I laugh. “You think?”

“No, seriously.” Carter sits back and looks past me to make sure his door is firmly closed. “I was thinking about this all weekend. Why does he have it in for you, specifically?”

A world of unknowns in that one question. I shrug.

“Do you have something on him?” he asks me.

“I have a lot of little bits of dirt,” I say. “No steaming pile. Nothing I’d really share with anyone.”

“And he knows that.” He bends, rubbing his hand over his face. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

• • •

Because Carter is obviously the most amazing boyfriend of all time, he takes me out to breakfast for dinner. Over enormous stacks of pancakes at the Griddle Cafe, we talk about everything but work, interrupted frequently by Mike and Steph’s giddy, emoji-stringed texts. We texted them a selfie of us earlier: me, cross-eyed and cheeks puffed as Carter planted a giant smooch on my cheek. He typed the words Meet my girlfriend, Evil, before he hit send in the group window.

I suppose that got the message across that we are doing the couple thing and no longer plotting each other’s murder.

We talk about our families, because it feels like a real possibility that we’ll meet them soon—and maybe that they’ll meet each other. He talks about how he was engaged once, and how he loved that girl, but not in that bone-crushing way where you would give up anything. She wanted small and Carter wanted the stars. We talk about how maybe Steph was right and I do always manage to find fault in the men I date—Too motivated! Not motivated enough!—and the relief I usually felt at putting them in the not-datable column. That way it was them, not me. We talk about Daryl and Amelia and how much they mean to me. How I’ve known Daryl for most of my life and how I love Amelia in almost the same way.

“Have they seen you since Friday?” he asks proudly. “Because if they saw you walking lately . . .” He mimes me stumbling bowlegged with two fingers teetering across the tabletop and I chuck a piece of scrambled egg at him.

He picks it off his plate and eats it.

I might really love him.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, reaching across the table to take my hand. “Did that gross you out?”

“What? No.”

“Then why do you suddenly look like you’re going to vomit?”

“Because I love you.”

He laughs, delighted. “How terrible.”

“I just . . . don’t go,” I say in a burst.

“Go where?”

“Anywhere.”

He stands, leaning across the table. His lips taste like syrup, his smile feels like home.

Beneath him, on the table, his phone begins to jump.

Carter pulls away, grinning at me and slowly sitting down in his seat before glancing at the caller ID. With a tiny just a sec finger, he answers.

“Dave, hey.”

I watch Carter’s face go from flesh-colored to zombie pale in about two seconds.

“What? No, it wasn’t me. Absolutely not.”

He listens, shaking his head.

“Fuck, no. It—he hasn’t even signed yet.” Nodding, he says, “Just verbal. And the announcement was supposed to be yours, just as soon as I had the paperwork wrapped up.”

Finally, he looks up at me and whispers, “Open Variety Now.”

Scrambling for my phone, I open my app. It loads slowly, but by the time it does, Carter has finished his call and he takes my phone when I hand it to him.

I’ve already read the headline.

I have no idea what is happening, but Carter looks like he is about to throw up his pancakes all over the table, and it isn’t because I professed my love.

It’s because Variety has just announced that Dan Printz has signed with Carter.

“What is going on?” I whisper.

Carter shakes his head, reading and rereading what’s written before handing the phone back to me with a quietly hissed “Sssssshiiiiit.”

I scan the article and feel my stomach drop.

People’s Sexiest Man Alive Leaves Lorimac

Dan Printz, actor in the upcoming action blockbuster Global and recently voted People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive, has signed with talent agent Carter Aaron.

Printz has emerged as one of the hottest actors in Hollywood following the box-office success of Under a Stony Sky, in which Printz portrays a brooding cyborg who saves a family from a corporation bent on killing their genius children. To date, the film has earned over $750 million internationally.