Instead, she said, “Put on some tea. I’m coming over. And don’t even think about having another childish fit and leaving the apartment. You might have given Ronan Fitzpatrick the slip, but I will hunt you down and make your life very uncomfortable until I am satisfied that you’ve learned your lesson. You can’t run away from people who care about you and are invested in your success and happiness. It’s a dick move, Annie. Don’t be a dick.”

Also of note, she used the word “dick.”

“Uh….” What?

Before I could say anything, Joan abruptly hung up, leaving me staring at my apartment, wondering into what bizarre universe I’d just stumbled.

***

I didn’t run away. Instead, I did as I was instructed and put the tea kettle on, prepared two cups of Earl Grey, and changed into a black T-shirt and black yoga pants.

Joan arrived no less than twenty minutes later; she must’ve rushed, taken the company car. Maybe she flew on her broom…. Whether she was a good witch or a bad witch had never quite been settled. For now, I assumed she was a good witch with ruthless tendencies.

I opened the door and stepped back, my eyes wide as she strolled in—giving me the once-over as she passed.

“First of all, you’re not fired, so you can wipe that look of panic off your face.”

I shut the door and followed my boss into my apartment. She looked somehow shorter here. Maybe it was the lighting.

She continued as she scanned my place, inspecting books on my shelves and frowning at my desk in the living room. “I do not excel at this type of thing, so I’ll just tell you what I think. Then we can sit on the couch and drink tea and do whatever it is that women friends do when one of them is having a crisis. Here is what I think: you’re having a colossal overreaction. Mr. Fitzpatrick is on his way to New York as we speak. He took the first flight out of Ireland this morning—I imagine he did so once he discovered you’d left. When he called me, he sounded angry, yes. But he also sounded concerned about you, about your being forced into taking on his account, forced into a relationship for the sake of his career.”

This news should have been a relief. Instead, it just made me feel more like a spineless asshole. “But he’s not the problem. I’m the coward. I’m the one who left. I’m the one that overreacted when I found out…when he told me about the thing with the thing.”

“The thing with the thing? Are you having a seizure? Suffering from aphasia?”

“No,” I huffed, pulling my hand through my hair and scratching my scalp. “He found out who I really am.”

“He found out about your home life? When you were a child?”

“No. Not that, I told him about that.” I waved her question away. “He found out about who I am now, what I do when I’m not at work or working. Actually, he knew all along, and I didn’t know. And now that I know that he knew…I just don’t know.”

“Annie, stop speaking in code. I can’t help you see reason and get your shit together if you don’t tell me what’s really going on. Why is it that you left Mr. Fitzpatrick, the man that you supposedly love and trust?”

I peered at her from between my fingers and shook my head. “I can’t tell you. If I tell you, then you will fire me.”

Joan frowned at me, her gaze feeling remarkably penetrating and shrewd.

Then I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise as she said, “Oh, I think I understand. This is about your stolen laptop and hobby blog, isn’t it? You should know the laptop was recovered before it could be hacked—Ronan told me on the phone. Your secret is still relatively safe.”

I straightened. My hands dropped as I held her gaze but said nothing. I couldn’t speak. The news that they’d recovered my laptop before I was exposed should have eclipsed everything else. It didn’t. The fact that Joan knew my secret was the only take-home message.

Her lips curved into something resembling a smirk, and she shook her head. “He knew all along, did he?” Then she added as though speaking to herself, “Ronan Fitzpatrick is smarter than I thought.”

Again, and for the second time in a half hour, I wondered into what bizarre universe I’d just stumbled.

“Wha-wha-what do you mean?”

“New York’s Finest. The Socialmedialite,” she said plainly. “Well, of course I know. I’ve said it to anyone who will listen—you are the best. You’ve built a social media empire over the course of three years. Your contacts are invaluable. Your influence priceless. Why do you think I pay you so well? It’s not for those irritating infographic emails, that’s for certain.”

“But…how? How did you—”

Joan interrupted me. “That’s not relevant. And, just to ease your mind, no. No one else knows or suspects, as far as I’m aware. The issue here is that Ronan Fitzpatrick knows.”

I swallowed mostly air. The fact that Joan had known my secret all along circled my head like chirping birds. I couldn’t quite grasp it…. I seemed to be having this problem a lot lately.

“Although….” Joan’s smirk flattened. “I was quite irritated by that Dara Evans article you published over St. Patrick’s Day. I surmised you did it to draw attention away from Mr. Fitzpatrick. Nevertheless, Becky and Ian had a hell of a time convincing her to get rid of that infernal baby seal coat. You know what she said? She said seals sexually assault penguins and deserved to be clubbed. That woman is nuttier than a Snickers bar.”