Suddenly, my concerns are nothing but smoke in the air, and all I care about is what this woman has done.
She’s brave, and I’m damn proud of her.
“That takes serious guts, Bellamy. And I don’t deserve any thanks. This is all you.” I hold up a hand to high five. She smacks my palm. “Congratulations. That is awesome.”
Her smile is wider than the avenue. “Thank you. But you should accept some credit because I’d been denying what was happening. I told myself it was just part of being a woman in the workforce. I was in denial, then you said something. And I realized it was not normal and I shouldn’t have to feel this way. Now I don’t have to work with that asshole.”
I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if I wanted to. “Good for you. You are seriously a rock star.” This is a good day, no matter what happens with Victoire. “We should celebrate with cake. It’s on me.”
“We should.”
I ask her favorite, and she chooses a chocolate buttercream cake with chocolate frosting. “Decadent,” I observe.
“And we deserve it,” she adds. “But the slices are huge. Want to share?”
“As long as you don’t encroach on my half.”
“I’ll make no promises.”
“I suppose I’ll take my chances.”
I order a slice and we devour the chocolate fiesta, matching each other bite for bite. With one forkful left, I take no prisoners. “I’m afraid I have no choice here, Bellamy,” I say, scooping the last bite onto the fork and into my mouth, then going full Giada De Laurentiis as I roll my eyes in pleasure.
“Was it good?” Bellamy asks when I’m done.
“So satisfying.”
Her eyes tour my face. “I’ll say.” Then she sets down her fork on the empty plate—not a crumb is in sight. “But that’s not all I wanted to tell you.”
I keep my hurt out of my voice; it’s not as difficult as it would have been an hour ago. “Hit me. Apparently, I’m your favorite punching bag, but I can handle it.”
She smiles. “Your grandmother helped me too. She told me something at her house about speaking up and speaking your mind. I don’t know if you heard that?”
I nod. “I did.”
“That stuck with me. And that’s why I wanted to apologize to you.”
My head spins all the way around and back. “For what?”
She gives me an apologetic smile. “Look, David pushed me to be hard on you, but I’m still responsible for what I say on my show.”
“He pushed you because of his inappropriate feelings for you?”
“After you left last week—”
“When he kept inviting you to have dinner late in his office?”
She winces. “Yes, and I said no. I told him I had to see my aunt. But not her cat.”
I don’t laugh. She doesn’t either. “I’m glad you didn’t have to have dinner with him,” I say, solemnly.
“Me too. Anyway, after you left, he said . . .” She drops to a masculine tone. “You need to come down really hard on that cocky bastard.”
Ouch. Also, fuck that guy.
“When I showed him my script later, he added some of the harsher details,” Bellamy continues, “about the money and your parties being elitist. He said I had to do it that way or management would pull my show for being too soft,” she says, drawing air quotes. “I was scared and frustrated. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know how much power he had as my producer. So, I did it his way, but it bothered me so much after.”
I blow out a long breath, indignant for her and what she’s endured. “That guy is a total fuckwad. I can’t believe he was messing with your podcast. You built that show. You made it successful. The Dating Pool is lucky to have you. You know that, right?”
“I do now. That’s what Bryn said too. She wants me to go back to doing some of the things my audience really loved—special editions before a live audience in a theater.”
“Like a talk show?”
“Yes, exactly. Where audience members can ask questions and I have free rein to answer. We’re going to set up a show in a couple of weeks. I haven’t done one like that in months, so it’ll be fun. She said when The Dating Pool licensed my show earlier this year, they’d wanted me to have carte blanche to speak my mind. But I felt stuck the last few months as David tried to influence it. I’m only sorry you were caught in the quicksand.”
“Pfft. Don’t apologize. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” This has reminded me there are more important things at stake than my ego and my squeaky-clean online rep. Things like respect—the respect all women deserve at work.
“Thanks for understanding. I’ve felt a little like a tea kettle about to boil over,” she admits with a sigh that feels months in the making.