We both contemplated the big money possibilities. Steve finally broke our silence. “I’ve been meaning to ask you—have you and Dave split up?”

I hit “save” again on my computer, just for something to do. As comfortable as I felt around Steve, he never asked me anything personal; we just didn’t go there. I knew he was not a fan of Dave’s, so it seemed weird for him to put me on the spot like this. Running my finger over the titanium keypad, I flicked away the lint and crumbs left from my low-fat Starbucks muffin. I knew I had to be straight with Steve; there was no use in trying to avoid his direct question. I practically gulped out the words. “Yeah, we did. Who told you?”

“Oh, I just heard it around, ya know. You hadn’t brought anything up and I just wanted to see if it was true.”

Meeting his gaze, I said, “Yeah, it is. Love is hard.” This seemed like a blanket answer Doctor Robin would approve of on Oprah.

Steve looked away. Now he was the one who was feeling a bit awkward. “I know you’ve been really putting in the hours here, so I was wondering if the show contributed to what was going on with you two. You’re pretty dedicated, and as much as I love the amount of work you can output, I do have a heart, and I’d hate to think that you’re so married to your job that it would mess up your love life.”

I eyed Steve. What was he up to, suddenly caring about my personal life? “Okay, Steve, this is getting weird. You never liked Dave, and it wasn’t any secret that he wasn’t crazy about you, and I’m putting out more pages here than ever. So what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem. I just want you to be happy and have a life. I just wanted to ask because I know you guys were serious.”

“We were and now we aren’t, and I’m fine. No bad feelings. He’s going to have a great career directing shows like Militia Man, and I’m here.” I knew that sounded a bit bitter, but I really didn’t need an interrogation from Steve. “How’s your love life?”

Steve grinned, his suntanned cheeks crinkling into the creases around his eyes. It was so unfair how wrinkles could look good on guys. He stepped away from my desk and moved to leave. “I get it, Dani. Happy writing. No more personal questions.”

“Deal, boss,” I said to his back. But he was already out of my office.

I guess my news was public knowledge. Fuck.