"You’ve got to be f*****g kidding me."
I sigh, purse my lips, and stare blankly at the living-room ceiling. Rhea has been pacing the lower level of our house for fifteen minutes, cycling through every possible version of disbelief.
"And you had no idea he was going to be there?" she sputters, bursting back into the room, looking at me almost accusingly.
I sit upright, muscles locking. "I hope you’re not implying what I think you are, Rhea," I snap.
"Sorry! I just… you said it was independently owned. Doesn’t it seem a little convenient that Harlan’s press owns yours?"
I lurch forward. "It was supposed to be independent!" I spit. "And this isn’t convenient, it’s my f*****g nightmare! He’s everywhere!" I squeal, then flop back and bury my face in my hands.
Even when Harlan was still on
