Brit glanced between her and Nick. “I saw you guys talking. Figured I better get out here before the bloodshed started. And speaking of bloodshed”—she lowered her voice and stepped closer to Taylor—“why didn’t you tell me you confronted Jessica yesterday?”
Taylor felt Nick’s gaze on her but didn’t look his way. “I didn’t confront her,” Taylor said. “I ran into her in the copy room. We talked. That was it. Why is it that everyone seems to think carnage will follow whenever I have a conversation with someone?”
Brit pursed her lips and looked at Nick. “You want to take this?”
He held up his hands in refusal. Then his gaze cooled slightly as he glanced over Taylor’s shoulder. “Morning, Calloway.”
Ah.
Taylor appreciated Nick’s attempt to warn her that her ex was approaching, but she was also very aware that she didn’t care one way or the other whether Bradley was in the same room, in the same city, on the same planet.
She turned, and sure enough, there he was. Blue suit, perfectly combed hair…
Boring. Very boring.
He nodded at Brit, who merely rolled her eyes, then turned on her heel and marched away. Good friend.
Bradley stopped beside Taylor. “Morning, Taylor. Nick. How’s it going here?”
Nick’s gaze was steady. “Don’t remember reporting to you, Calloway.”
Bradley ignored the slight and turned toward Taylor. “A moment in my office, if you’re free.”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
He looked surprised by her bored tone, then nodded and headed toward his office, clearly expecting her to follow.
She did, because he was her colleague, but she was a hell of a lot more aware of the man she was walking away from than the man she was walking toward. Taylor felt Nick’s gaze on her as she followed Bradley’s retreating back, wishing that for once she knew what Nick was thinking.
He’d been kind to her last night—hell, he’d been kind to her a lot more often than she deserved. But he’d never shown any interest in her as a woman, and…well, it bothered her.
“What’s up?” she asked as Bradley closed the office door behind them.
He gestured distractedly toward one of the chairs.
She sat. “Did you hear back from Vance?” she asked, referring to the Rolex exec at the meeting yesterday. “What did he think?”
“He was pleased,” Bradley said, sitting in his own chair. He seemed a bit distracted. “But that’s not what I want to discuss.”
“All right.”
He frowned, clearly sensing that she wasn’t about to make this easy for him. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask how you are. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken.”
And whose fault is that?
“I’m good.”
He gave her a private smile. The kind that used to warm her from the inside out, and now left her utterly cold. “How are you, really?”
She leaned forward and held his gaze. “Really? I’m great.”
Taylor was a little surprised to realize how much she meant it. How much time had she wasted on this guy?
Pathetic.
Bradley blinked, glanced away, then back at her. “I wanted—I need to say that I have regrets about the way I handled things.”
Taylor sat back and crossed her legs, noting that his gaze followed her skirt as it slid up her thigh. “Yes, well, you probably should have regrets, Bradley.”
He nodded, looking contrite. “I know. And I’ve been thinking about it. I want to help you with the living situation.”
“My living situation is fine.”
“You’re living with Nick Ballantine,” he said, as though she wasn’t acutely aware of this. On every level.
“Am I?” she mock-gasped.
“You and Nick are like oil and water.”
Taylor let herself smile. “He’s not so bad.”
Bradley’s jaw tensed. “Still, you’re too old to have a roommate. I’ll talk to my lawyers, see if we can’t get you out of that lease…”
“Too old? Really? Plus there stopped being a we when you left that letter on my kitchen counter, Bradley. And while I agree I need legal assistance, my primary concern is removing your name from the lease. I’ve hired my own counsel for that.”
He frowned. “Taylor. Please. We don’t need to rush anything—”
She held up her hand to stop his bullshit. “Bradley. Did you or did you not leave me for another woman? And did you or did you not initially leave that woman for me?”
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I think…I made a mistake, and—”
“Which time?” she asked.
He met her eyes miserably. “Tay. I just need to think—”
“Wrong answer,” she said coolly. “The correct answer is that you made a mistake both times. You don’t get to treat women like that, keeping one in your back pocket until you decide you like another version better. And you sure as hell don’t get to change your mind again.”
“Taylor—”
“No,” she interrupted. “I’m done discussing my personal life, but there is something I need to discuss with you. On a professional level.”
His jaw clenched resentfully, but to his credit, Bradley had always tried to be a good co-worker, and he nodded. “All right. What?”
She held his gaze. “I emailed HR yesterday afternoon. I’ve requested a transfer.”
He blinked. “A transfer.”
“To Hunter Cross’s team.”
“What the—”
“He’s got a bunch of open positions,” Taylor pushed on. “And now that the big website redesign’s been approved, he needs someone to figure out how to best integrate ads with content.”
“Taylor…”
“It’s a good fit for me,” she said quietly. “You know it is, Bradley.”
He tapped his fingers on the desk. “You do love the digital side of things,” he admitted quietly.
She nodded. Advertising was her first love, but she much preferred the technology side of that world. Print advertising wasn’t dead, not by a long shot, but online advertising was where the growth was. The future.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said quietly. “We work well together.”
Taylor said nothing. She wasn’t sure whether he was speaking about losing her as a colleague or as a woman, but she didn’t care.
“It’s for the best,” she said quietly. “You know it is.”
There was a long moment of silence before he finally nodded. “You don’t need my approval.”
“No. But I’d like your guarantee that it won’t impact our working relationship.”
“Of course not,” he said quietly.
Taylor nodded. “Thank you. Truly.”
He gave a rueful smile. “Do I have to say you’re welcome, or can I sulk for a while?”
“Brood,” she said as she stood. “Real men brood, not sulk.”
“Of course. Leave me to brood, then,” he said, his lips twitching.
She studied him for a moment, feeling a little pang that not so long ago these quiet exchanges had meant everything to her.
Now? All she could think was that she was ready for something else.
No. Something better.
Chapter 15
When Taylor maneuvered the Bloomingdale’s bags from her shopping haul through the front door a week later, Nick was standing behind the stove.
She blinked for a moment at the unusual sight. Other than the occasional scrambled eggs, neither one of them was much for cooking, but the waft of delicious smells implied he knew what he was doing.