Free The Fortune Quilt by Lani Diane Rich

bound to happen anyway. We just don’t make enough money.” He shakes his head. “I’ll give you a good recommendation. Just don’t ask until next week. I plan on staying pretty drunk for a while.”
    I nod, shake Victor’s hand and wander out to the bull pen, which is what we call the conference table in the center of the room where we pitch stories. Correction: Where we used to pitch stories. All the cubicles lining the walls are empty. Victor gives us a gruff, “Goodnight,” and leaves. Christopher and I are left standing alone in the bull pen, staring at each other in shock.
    “I’ve been laid off.”
    “Damnit.” He plunks back against the conference table. “What, they didn’t even try to get you into the newsroom?”
    “It’s okay.”
    “No, it’s not,” he says, his voice hot. I don’t entirely understand why he’s so upset; at least he still has a job.
    I, however, have been laid off.
    I start to laugh.
    “Carly?” Christopher looks at me with concern.
    “I’ve been laid off,” I say, still giggling. “I’ve been laid off.” I stop giggling. “That’s never happened to me before.”
    He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Let me take you home.”
    “I’m unemployed, not drunk.” I feel the heat of his hand on my shoulder, and it’s making me a little dizzy. I don’t move, though. “Besides, my car’s out in the parking lot,” I add, my voice weak.
    “I know, but…” He hesitates, and his face grows serious. “When am I going to see you again?”
    I am suddenly very aware of how alone we are in the office. Christopher’s hand moves slowly up from my shoulder until his fingers are in my hair. He pulls me closer, and I realize that I’m standing between his open legs as he leans back on the conference table.
    Oh, shit, here we go, I think, and then we are kissing. His tongue is grazing mine in questioning caresses, and I’m kissing him back, and it’s good. It’s good. It’s not, you know, earth-shattering but I’m liking it. His hand trails down to my waist. I run my fingers over the hairs at the back of his neck and he shivers, pulling me tighter against him. The kiss grows more passionate, and then as I’m leaning up against him, I feel something hard against my hip and I realize it’s Christopher and this is when the abject terror hits. I try to find my way back to where this was good, to really be here with him, but his hard-on is freaking me out and my heart is hammering and I’m suddenly battling an urge to run far, far away. Finally, Christopher breaks the kiss and looks at me.
    “Hey,” he says, his mouth curling up wryly at one corner. “There’s that look of cold terror I know and love.”
    “I’m sorry,” I say. “There’s obviously something very wrong with me.”
    As understatements go, I think that’s a pretty fine one.
    He takes my hand in his and eyes me with compassion. “Carly, I’m not gonna push myself on you if you’re not ready, but I gotta say, the signals you’re sending are pretty mixed.”
    “I know.” He’s staring at me as though he wants more, and he deserves more, so I keep going. “I’m just confused. It’s such a huge change, you know, from how we’ve always been with each other. I feel like you’re gone, and there’s this wonderful guy here who likes me but I don’t know him, and…”
    He reaches up and brushes some hair away from my forehead, which stops me talking.
    “He doesn’t just like you,” he says softly. He looks at me with unconditional caring in his eyes, and I feel a sudden and undeniable urge to vomit. “Carly. I love you.”
    “What about Lindsay?” I blurt out. Christopher’s eyebrows knit, and his eyes flash with a touch of anger.
    “Lindsay?” he says. “What the hell does Lindsay have to do with anything?”
    “I… I… I…” Mayday. Mayday. “I think she… you know… I think maybe she has feelings for you, and…”
    Oh, man. My hands are starting to sweat. This is bad, bad, bad.