* * *

  Amy: May I now point out a perfect template for your future? Mary Matalin and James Carville. They’ve pulled off the whole competitors thing. You can too.

  * * *

  Quinn: When can I start planning your wedding?

  * * *

  I laugh quietly as Haven rustles under the covers, shifting onto her stomach, still sound asleep.

  I start with Quinn.

  * * *

  Josh: You’re a party planner, not a wedding planner.

  * * *

  Quinn: Thanks for raining on my parade. Also, I’ve planned a few weddings too, oh ye of little faith.

  * * *

  Next, I tackle Jason’s note and give him an update. He responds immediately.

  * * *

  Jason: I know you used my advice as inspiration. You can say it—“Jason, you’re so damn helpful.”

  * * *

  Josh: You’re so damn helpful.

  * * *

  Finally, I respond to Amy.

  * * *

  Josh: You had to use the political power couple from another era because there really isn’t any other great example of competitor couples, is there?

  * * *

  Amy: True. But also, is there anyone more romantic in all the world than a pair of political strategists from opposite sides? Besides, I was right.

  * * *

  Josh: You were right about what?

  * * *

  Amy: Darcy and Bennet. Pride and Prejudice. I told you so.

  * * *

  Josh: You’re right. You’re always right.

  * * *

  I set the phone down, look at the sleeping woman by my side, and say out loud, “You were right.”

  It’s Sunday in Manhattan.

  Quickly, we learn that we don’t do Sundays in New York the way it’s done in the movies. Or on Instagram.

  We’re not one of those stroll-along-a-quiet-side-street-holding-hands couples.

  We don’t gather in a line that winds around the block for the new trendy brunch joint.

  And we definitely don’t do Sunday Funday shit like go ax-throwing after day-drinking. Which, incidentally, sounds like a terrible idea.

  Instead, we fuck when she wakes up.

  And we shower.

  And then we hit the phones.

  She has calls to take from Alicia, from Vaughn, and from her other clients.

  And I have calls to make too. As Haven paces across the bedroom, I settle into my couch to catch up with my Yankees shortstop, then with my Knicks center, and then with Zane, who texts that he has something to tell me, so I call him right away.

  “Dude! Word on the street is sick,” he announces.

  “Lay the word on me.”

  “Get this. I hear . . .” He stops, pauses, and seems to draw an excited breath. “Tom Cruise has to skateboard in the next Mission Impossible flick.”

  My brow knits. That sounds unlikely, but then again, everything Cruise does in Mission Impossible is the definition of unlikely. “Is that so?”

  “Yes! How rad is that?”

  “The raddest. Where did you hear that?”

  “From Jako,” he says, naming his teammate and fellow skater.

  “Does Jako have intel about Hollywood flicks?”

  “Yes, he has a cousin—well, a second cousin—who works in the biz. You know, does catering and shit for a TV studio in Canada, so he’s totally in the know. Wait. Nope. Wrong. He works in Georgia. I get those mixed up a lot.”

  “Ah, so he’s a great source for what’s coming down the pike in Hollywood.”

  “Definitely. And listen, here’s the thing. Tom’s short and all and I’m not, but those are just details. I want to be his skateboarding stunt double. Can you make that happen? I mean, if anyone can make that happen, it’s you, right?”

  I laugh, even though I’m about to break his heart. “Zane, my man. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Tom Cruise does all his own stunts.”

  Zane groans, an epic sound of sadness that carries across continents and through the halls of time. “No!”

  But I can’t leave him on that kind of bubble-burst, so I tell him I’m working on renewing his contract with Vans, with a huge increase, and I swear I can see the smile on his face.

  “Dude. For that kind of money, I can buy myself a walk-on role in MI.”

  “Aim for the stars, my man. Aim for the stars.”

  A few minutes later, Haven emerges from the bedroom, looking energized. “Check out this email. We just landed a huge donation from Wu Media to fund the next set of programs I was mentioning. The woman who runs that company is a goddess and so is her director of charitable outreach. Listen to what she wrote.”

  * * *

  Dear Haven,

  * * *

  LOVED your terrific presentation. We’re thrilled with the fantastic work you're doing at Girl Power. To see the impact of these programs on the lives of young girls who need them is incredibly rewarding on so many levels. Personally, I can vouch for the difference sports made for me -- those early morning practices when I had to rise at the rooster crack of dawn gave me the discipline I needed to succeed not just in sports, but in school.

  What more could I ask for! That’s why we’re so excited to support the work you’re doing.

  * * *

  P.S. you were an inspiration to me during your gold medal run. You’re fearless and I love it!

  * * *

  My best,

  Sadie, from Valerie Wu’s office

  * * *

  Haven grins proudly.

  “Well done, my fearless, inspiring snow leopard.”

  “Thank you.” She sighs, relieved. “I was really hoping this funding would come through. And I also just had a great call with my new business partner.”

  “Is that so?”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “So great, in fact, that we are going to kick your ass.”

  And that’s all it takes. My competitive fire is fully stoked once more.

  “Woman, I am going to love competing with you and Vaughn and beating the two of you every single day.”

  She parks her hands on her hips. “Good luck. We’re double trouble now.”

  “Which makes it all the more exciting when I kick unholy ass every day.” I get up from the couch, stalk over to her, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her to the bed, where I put her down. “Besides, competing with you gives us a chance to fuck it out every night,” I say as I strip off her shirt.

  “So it turns you on when I tell you we’re going to destroy you?” she asks in the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.

  I nod. “It absolutely does. Because I’m going to crush you.”

  Then we do what we’ve always done best.

  We fuck it out.

  The next day, I return to work, ready and energized as I walk into the lobby of the skyscraper.

  When I reach my floor, Ford and Viviana are waiting outside my office.

  31

  Josh

  I make a show of checking my watch. “If memory serves, you won’t know about a bun in the oven for another week.”

  Viviana stares at me, her expression unreadable. “I barfed this morning. I wanted to share the news with you first before I head to the lit department meeting.”

  “Did you? That’s awesome,” I say, excited for her.

  “No, asshole,” she says, since Viv always talks to me like one of the guys. “I didn’t barf, and I wouldn’t expect to barf so early. We still don’t know. We’ll know soon, but that’s not why we’re here.”

  Ford gestures to my office. “Let’s chat.”

  A dart of worry shoots through me, but I try to make light of it. “This sounds mildly ominous.”

  “Only mildly,” Ford echoes as he shuts the door behind me.

  I sit at my desk, and they park themselves across from me. “Okay, who died?”

  Viviana bats first, concern in her eyes. “Has he contacted you yet?”

  “Who?”

  Viviana glances at the door and whispers, “Austin.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “No, why? What’s going on?”

  “I have some friends at the gym where he works out. I rep one of the celeb trainers there who wrote a fitness book.”

  I sit up ramrod straight. “And?”

  “Apparently, there are a handful of women who have worked with him in various capacities. A physical therapist. A nutritionist. Even the team’s receptionist.”

  My gut churns as I realize where this is going. I knew that guy was bad news. “How bad is it?”

  Ford cuts in. “He’s not the worst. But it seems he has quite a habit of making lewd comments to the women he works with. Suggestive comments.” Ford makes a rolling gesture with his hand.

  “The kind of comments that suggest a woman should get on her knees and suck his dick if she wants to keep working with him?”

  Ford taps his nose and points at me. “Bingo.”

  I groan, sinking back in my chair. “This is one hell of a Monday morning back at the office.” But it seems to be the sign I need.

  Viviana offers a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. We wanted you to hear it from us before you heard it from Dom. But the news is starting to get out.”

  I turn to Ford, recalling our conversation from the other week. “Ford, you know this is when I stop evaluating him on his performance, right? Tell me you know that, man.”

  “I abso-fucking-lutely know it.”

  My phone buzzes, and it’s Dom’s assistant calling me to his office.

  The wheels are turning quickly in my head, picking up locomotive-like speed. I tell her I’ll be there shortly, then Ford and Viv leave. Before I go upstairs, I fire off a quick email to Austin.

  On the elevator ride to Dom’s office, I feel no nerves. I experience zero questions. I have complete clarity about what will happen next, and then what will happen after that.

  I open the door as he barks into the phone. “Polly is sick. The fertilizer you gave me is shit. Total shit. And my wife is not happy, and I’m not happy, and no one is happy. Fix this now.”

  As he shouts more orders, I do something I’ve never done in his office.

  I sit.

  When he hangs up, he turns to me. “Listen, glad you’re back. I need you now more than ever. You’re my rock star, Summers. And we’re going to need to finesse the fuck out of this Austin news that’s starting to leak. Get a publicist and work on the whole ‘innocent until proven guilty’ angle.”

  I say nothing, and Dom stares down at me as if he just realized I was sitting. “What are you doing?” He sounds unnerved.

  I smile, so damn certain of where I stand on this front. ON every front. “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No. I won’t work on the whole ‘innocent until proven guilty’ angle.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  I meet his gaze, certainty my foundation. “Because Austin’s an asshole. He’s pushing one hundred on the asshole level.”

  “He’s gold on the field, Josh. We’re his agents. We need to look out for him.”

  I shrug, cross my leg, and draw a contented breath. Because I am indeed content about this decision. And I’m content about what will happen next. Everything is coming together in my head. I know where I’m going. I know where my professional future lies. I have the map, and I’m following it. “Nah. I don’t think so.”

  His eyes might pop out of their sockets. I swear they’re on springs now. “‘I don’t think so’?” he repeats like a parrot.

  I scratch my jaw, exhale, and nod. “Exactly.”

  “But that’s what we have to do.” He points at me. “That’s what you have to do.”

  Clarity, it rocks. “And yet, I’m not going to.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because I’m not repping him anymore.”

  “Are we doing this again? Where you just bow out because you goddamn feel like it?”

  I inhale deeply, that certainty fueling me. “Seems we are.”

  “No, we’re not. You need to work on this.”

  I laugh, knowing I have an ace in the hole. Maybe Dom’s content to let Austin potentially ruin the reputation of the firm with his sorry one, but he’s not going to mess with mine. “Let me make myself completely clear. Austin is a misogynistic dick. Case closed. But hey, you can feel free to rep him.” I stand.

  He points at me, steam rising from the top of his head. “You don’t give me your sloppy seconds. That’s not how it works here.”

  “That’s cool. Because I don’t work here anymore either. I quit.” I walk to the door, stopping as I’m about to cross the threshold. “I hope Polly gets better. Here’s a tip. Maybe stop yelling. That might help her perk up.”

  Then I walk the hell out.

  32

  Josh

  The barista hands me a black coffee. “Just the way you like it.”

  She slides a lavender matcha latte with caramel something or other to Ford. “And here’s your regular.”

  “Mmm. Smells as delish as ever.”

  “Or as disgusting,” I say as we head to a table in the corner for a meeting. This is exactly what I envisioned when I walked into Dom’s office about a week ago. Well, maybe not this coffee shop. But this next step.

  “Don’t be knocking my beverage of choice.”

  “I can’t not, Ford. You know that.”

  We sit, and the guy across from us shouts into his phone, “Get the chia seeds. I’ll Venmo you the money later!”

  I heave a sigh, gesturing to him. “We can’t keep meeting like this.”

  “No shit. We need office space, and we need it stat.”

  “I’ve got calls out and another meeting with a realtor later. But what about a name? We need to settle on a name.”

  Ford takes a drink then sets down the steaming mug. “Alphabetical is the only way to go. Grayson and Summers, my man. Grayson and Summers.”

  “Summers and Grayson has a particularly nice ring to it.”

  He shakes his head. “You can’t win this one. It has to be Grayson and Summers.”

  “You’re such a hard-ass.”

  “So are you.”

  “And I take that as a compliment of the highest order from one of the founding partners of Summers and Grayson.”

  Ford said sayonara the same day I did, taking off right along with me to start our own shop. Viv’s still there, but she’s in the lit department, and all is well with her.

  I take a drink of the coffee then set it down. “So, tomorrow you find out if you hit the jackpot?”

  He nods. “She’s taking the test first thing.”

  “I’m rooting for you guys,” I say. “You’re not worried, though, about the effort it’s going to take to run a new business while starting a family, are you?”

  He shrugs. “Nah. I mean, it would be nice if it didn’t all fall on the two of us, but that’s how it goes.”

  An idea sparks from out of nowhere and ignites, bright and fiery.

  “What if it didn’t all fall on the two of us?”

  33

  Haven

  We round the corner and head into the restaurant off Park Avenue. Josh called me midmorning and asked if Vaughn and I could meet Ford and him for dinner. As if I couldn’t figure out what he wanted to talk about.

  Vaughn and I are early. Because I know Josh’s style. He’s always early. “So we have to be earlier,” I say to my partner.

  “I love it. You have all the intel now on one of our top competitors.”

  “But listen—we don’t want it to seem like we had the exact same idea.”

  Vaughn flashes an easy grin. That’s what I like about him. He’s easy to get along with, easy to do business with, and still tough as nails when it comes to negotiating.

  “Don’t worry, Goldie,” he says, using his nickname for me, since he has a thing for nicknames. “I’m the master at making it seem like anything is someone else’s great idea. Like the time I mentioned how much fun volleyball on the beach was, and I knew that would lure Lucas and Jackson to swing by.”

  I shake my head appreciatively. “Have I mentioned how much I like your sneaky, devilish side?”

  “I believe you have. Many times.”

  We grab a table at the swank sushi place that my boyfriend loves—it’s still strange to call Josh my boyfriend, but it’s completely wonderful too. Vaughn and I order wine and chat about how our new firm is going.

  A few minutes later, Josh strides in, looking sexy as sin in a suit and tie, like he always does. I drop a kiss to his cheek, then say hi to Ford, who’s by his side.

  “Looking lovely, Haven,” Ford says.

  “And you’re as sharp as ever.”

  Ford claps a hand to Vaughn’s shoulder. “Good to see you again, bro. So stoked you left Dick Blaine. But how the hell were you there in the first place?”

  Vaughn shrugs and smiles. “What can I say? There was this girl I was seeing at the time, and she convinced me I’d make more money there, and I’d need more money if I was going to want to be with her, and so on.”

  “Ouch. I trust you’re not with Miss Monopoly anymore?”

  “She’s long gone.”

  “Anyone new on the horizon?” Ford asks.

  Josh shoots him a look. “What? Are you a matchmaker now? You going to set him up with Viv’s sister?”