Happily Ever After

by Jae

  Before she could think of something to say to continue the conversation and keep Christine next to her for a little longer and possibly even ask her out, her cell phone rang.

  With an apologetic glance in Christine’s direction, she fumbled it from her belt, hoping it wasn’t an emergency that would require her to drive out to their transmitter site in the middle of the night. “Yes?”

  “Hi, Paula, it’s Aaron.”

  He was the night-shift sound engineer of their sister station. While she listened to his rambling complaint about a piece of equipment, she looked up.

  Christine was still there, leaning against the receptionist’s desk, watching her with a patient smile.

  Paula’s cheeks warmed under her gaze. “Yes, sure,” she said to Aaron. Then her brain, which had been otherwise occupied, caught up with what her mouth had just said. “Uh, I meant no. That’s crazy. No way are we giving you our new soundboard. We just bought it last year.” Her colleagues from the day shifts had probably already told him the same, so he’d tried his luck with her.

  When she finally ended the call, Christine still stood waiting.

  Paula’s heart jumped joyfully. Was there something she wanted, or did she enjoy talking to her too?

  “Could you do me a favor?” Christine asked.

  Anything. Paula bit her lip, for a moment not sure whether she’d said it out loud. “Of course. What is it?”

  “It’s about Valentine’s Day,” Christine said.

  Paula blinked. She barely dared to breathe. Oh my God, she’s not about to ask me out, is she?

  “Cliff wants me to do a special four-hour show on Valentine’s Day instead of the usual two hours, so I need more material. Here’s what I came up with so far.” Christine pulled a sheet of paper out of the messenger bag slung over her shoulder and held it out to her. “Would you mind taking a look and telling me what you think before I go to Cliff with it?”

  Not a date. She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt not to let her disappointment show. No, of course not. Christine probably wasn’t even aware of her feelings for her. While on air, she saw things so clearly, but apparently, that didn’t extend to her private life—at least not to Paula’s crush on her.

  When Paula just stared at her, Christine pulled her hand back with the sheet of paper. “I know it’s not in your job description, and you’ve probably got better things to do than to help out the on-air talent, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, so I thought—”

  “I really don’t mind,” Paula said quickly. At least Christine valued her opinion. That had to be worth something, right?

  “Are you sure?”

  Paula gave a decisive nod and took the paper. “Positive.”

  “Thanks.” Christine smiled and touched Paula’s arm, setting off a tingling sensation that swept through the rest of her body. “I—”

  “Five minutes till air time, Doc,” Tyler, Christine’s producer, called from one of the control rooms.

  “Duty calls.” One last smile, then Christine disappeared into the labyrinth of recording booths, editing rooms, and offices.

  Paula slumped onto the desk chair.

  Paula listened to The Midnight Couch as she did an equipment check in studio B to make sure that everything was in working order for the late-night music show that would be broadcasted later. At this hour, the station was nearly empty, so she could work without interruptions.

  “You are listening to The Midnight Couch on KWSG with Dr. Christine,” the velvet voice came through studio B’s speakers. “We are talking about healing broken hearts tonight, so if you had your heart trampled on, give us a call. Our lines are open.”

  A shiver skittered down Paula’s spine. Oh, God. That voice. She could sell scuba-diving gear to Bedouins with that voice.

  “Our next caller is Marc from Long Beach,” Tyler said.

  Paula groaned. She could almost hear the “again” that the producer wanted to add but couldn’t since he was on air. Marc from Long Beach called the show at least once a month, each time with a new problem. Paula suspected that he didn’t really need psychological advice; he was just smitten with Christine. Not that she could blame him.

  If Christine was annoyed, she hid it well. “Hi, Marc,” she said, her voice as warm as ever. “Thanks for calling KWSG. You’re live on The Midnight Couch.”

  “I just wanted to say that I listen to your show every night.”

  Paula rolled her eyes. He always said that.

  “Thank you,” Christine said. “I appreciate that. So, what can I do for you tonight?”

  Paula stopped listening as he went on and on about yet another girlfriend who didn’t love him as much as he loved her. When she finished checking the equipment in studio B, she went back to the reception area and did some quality control on the repaired coffee machine by having a cup of coffee.

  Coffee in hand, she settled at the empty reception desk to look at Christine’s notes for the Valentine’s Day show. She nearly inhaled a sip of coffee when she saw the suggested topic.

  Secret love. Are you admiring someone from afar? Secretly in love with your best friend? Smitten with your colleague, yet you never said a word? It’s time to confess your feelings on The Midnight Couch.

  That had to be a sign, right?

  “Yes, it is.” Christine’s voice filled the room. “Now that you realized that, what are you going to do about it?”

  Dazed, Paula looked around before remembering that Christine’s voice was on the radio. She was still speaking to Marc, not to her.

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” Paula whispered into the empty room.

  “What did you think?” Christine asked as soon as she stepped out of her booth and into the reception area, where Paula had settled down to document the work she had done during her shift. Christine’s hair was mussed from the headphones she had worn during the show.

  Paula looked up from her paperwork. I think you’re beautiful. “You were great, as always.”

  Christine laughed, a sound that was sexy as hell. “Thanks, but that wasn’t what I meant. I was talking about the topic for the Valentine’s Day show. Did you have time to take a look?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did. It’s…uh…”

  “You don’t think it’s a good idea?” Christine tilted her head and studied her, an adorable wrinkle between her brows.

  “No, it’s great. What could be more romantic than having a secret admirer, right?”

  Christine nodded. “That’s what I thought. It sure beats the topics for the rest of the week, marriages from hell and overcoming trauma.”

  “I don’t know how you deal with that stuff six nights a week,” Paula said with a shake of her head. “Give me a misbehaving digital audio system or a headphone amplifier that’s on the fritz any day, but dealing with the kind of calls you get… No, thanks.”

  “Well, my job does have its perks.”

  “Such as?”

  “Earning boatloads of money,” Christine said and managed to keep a straight face. “Fame.” She winked at Paula. “And great co-workers.”

  Paula nearly fell off the chair. Is she flirting? She couldn’t tell. She still wasn’t even sure if Christine was interested in the fairer sex. This is your chance to find out. Ask her if she wants to have coffee on Sunday.

  But the seconds ticked by without Paula getting out one word. Her lips seemed glued together, and her vocal chords refused to work.

  In the background, one of the station’s jingles played over the speakers.

  One hand on the desk, Christine looked at her with a curious expression.

  Say something. Anything!

  But before she could think of anything, Christine smiled and lifted her hand in a short wave. “Thanks for taking a look. See you tomorrow.”

  Paula nodded dumbly and watched her walk away. When the doors slid apart to let Christine pass, Paula found her voice. “Christine?”

  Christine paused and half turned. “Yes?�
��

  “Uh, good night.”

  “Good night, Paula.”

  As the doors closed behind Christine, Paula sank back against the chair. Chicken.

  Three more days until Valentine’s Day. She vowed to find a way to let Christine know she was interested in her before then. The question was just how. Too bad I can’t call a radio shrink and ask for advice.

  Paula grinned at the thought and gathered her things so she could drive home as soon as her relief showed up.

  Fate wasn’t with her the next day either. When Christine came in at half past eleven, Paula was elbow-deep in an audio mixing console and had no time to talk.

  As Christine passed by the window on the way to her own booth, she gave Paula a commiserating smile and a wave.

  Paula wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed at missing yet another chance to ask Christine out. She promised herself she would do it later, as soon as Christine’s show was over.

  But when Paula’s shift ended two and a half hours later, Christine was still on air, taking calls from listeners who were still awake, instead of wrapping up her show.

  Frowning, Paula walked down the hallway. Christine’s studio was the first glassed-in booth to the left. The on-air light over the door was flashing.

  Paula gazed through the soundproof window at the woman on the other side of the glass.

  Christine was speaking into her microphone, her hands cupped around it in an almost intimate way. Several phone lines blinked, and the green, red, and yellow lights from the control boards threw shadows over Christine’s face.

  God, she’s beautiful.

  As if feeling Paula’s gaze on her, Christine looked up. Instead of being annoyed at the interruption, she smiled and continued to talk into the microphone without missing a beat.

  After another minute, she switched off her microphone and pressed a button on the control board to start a commercial. She rolled back her chair, took off her headphones, and cocked her head at Paula.

  Paula held up one finger and dashed into a nearby office. Seconds later, she was back with an empty sheet of paper and a permanent marker. In big letters, she wrote, “Let me guess. Dave, the slacker, called in sick again?” She painted quotation marks around the word sick and then held up the sign.

  Christine threw her head back in that sexy-as-hell laugh, but Paula couldn’t hear it.

  She smiled reflexively.

  Christine shrugged and nodded.

  No doubt, the station manager’s assistant had called her producer and had him ask her to cover another hour. Christine was nothing if not a team player. She never said no when management asked her to stand in for a sick co-worker. Once, she had commented that unlike other colleagues, she didn’t have anyone waiting for her at home, so it didn’t matter if she worked an hour longer.

  That’s how Paula knew she was single—or at least she had been last July, when she’d made that comment.

  She gave Christine a sympathetic smile and watched as she put her headphones on again.

  After allowing herself to watch for a few more seconds, she pivoted and marched toward the exit. Tomorrow. I’ll ask her tomorrow.

  Yawning, Paula climbed into her Ford Fiesta and buckled in. As soon as she turned the key in the ignition, Christine’s smoky voice reverberated through the car, since she kept her car radio tuned to KWSG.

  “When was that?” Christine asked as Paula pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the nearly empty streets of Los Angeles.

  “Last April,” the caller answered. She sounded as if she’d been crying. “He told me he’s sorry and that he broke it off with her, but…”

  “But?” Christine prompted, her voice warm and encouraging.

  The woman sighed. “I think he’s still seeing her. He gets texts all the time, and he put a password on his cell phone. A few times, he didn’t come home all night.”

  “Have you talked to him about it?”

  For a moment, only static came from the radio. “Um, no. I keep thinking he’ll come to his senses if I just give him enough time.”

  Paula rolled her eyes. If someone paid her a dollar for every time she’d heard a story like that since she had started listening to The Midnight Couch, she would have been able to retire on the spot.

  “Anita,” Christine said in a way that surely got the caller’s attention. “You said you are an avid listener of my show, right?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Then you’ve heard other people with cheating spouses call in.”

  The woman hesitated. “Um, yes.”

  “Do you remember any of them reporting their husband or wife coming to their senses?”

  Paula grinned. She’s got you there, Anita.

  Anita didn’t answer for several seconds. “No,” she finally said. “But what if…?”

  “What if what?”

  “What if he leaves me?” Anita whispered.

  “Well, you can’t control anyone else’s behavior, just your own. But even if he left, life would go on. You’d be fine. At least then this waiting game would be over. You can’t put your life on hold while you wait for him to make up his mind. It’s demeaning.”

  “Yes,” Anita said, her voice so low that Paula almost couldn’t hear her. “It is.”

  “You deserve better than that,” Christine said firmly, as if willing her distraught caller to believe it.

  “I…I guess so. So what do you want me to do?”

  Christine cleared her throat. “The question is what do you want to do?”

  “Tell him to make a choice?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

  “Exactly. Once and for all. Don’t allow him to put you off. Even if he decides for the other woman, being alone would be better than being treated second best for the rest of your life. Don’t be afraid to stand alone for a while. True love is worth waiting for.”

  Paula grinned. Dr. Christine Graham is a romantic. Who knew?

  Anita inhaled and exhaled audibly. “You’re right. I’ll confront him after Valentine’s Day.”

  “Why put it off?” Christine asked. “It’s too easy to let the days slip by while your life hangs in limbo.”

  “Okay,” Anita said, now sounding a little more confident. “Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  That’s what I keep saying, Sister. Paula pulled into the parking garage of her apartment building and waited until Christine ended the call before switching off the engine and the radio. She opened the driver-side door and got out. “Tomorrow,” she said and slammed the door with more force than necessary.

  When the familiar clickety-clack of Christine’s heels echoed down the hallway at five past eleven, Paula stuck her head out of studio B, where she had set up guest mikes for the morning show. She’s early today. This is your chance. Now or never. She had practiced what she would say all day, and now she was ready. Kind of.

  But when Christine rounded the corner, she wasn’t alone.

  Dave, the host of their late-night music program, followed her and was leaning a little too close. “Thanks for covering for me yesterday, Chris,” he said, touching her arm.

  Christine pulled her arm away and, with a quick glance and a wave, marched past Paula. “You’re welcome.” Her soft lilt hardened. “And it’s Christine.” She disappeared into her studio and closed the heavy door, leaving Dave behind.

  Go, girl! Paula grinned. Nothing was hotter than a woman who stood up for herself. But she would never go out with that hot woman if she let all of her chances slip through her fingers. Paula sent a determined glance toward Christine’s studio. Come hell or high water, she would ask her out after the show.

  Paula turned up the volume so she wouldn’t miss even one of the softly spoken words while she did her paperwork at the reception desk.

  “You’re gonna get through this,” Christine said, her voice oozing warmth and sincerity.

  Her caller sniffled. “Okay.”

  “Please stay on the line.
My producer will give you some numbers for really good therapists in your area.”

  “Thank you.”

  After a moment, Christine’s voice returned. “We’re out of time for tonight, but we’ll be back tomorrow. Also, be sure to tune in on Saturday night at ten for our Valentine’s Day special. We will be talking about being single on Valentine’s Day, and we’ll have listeners call in to reveal their secret love on The Midnight Couch.”

  Paula swallowed. Time was running out. Just forty-eight hours until her self-imposed deadline ended.

  “Thanks for listening. Good night, Southern California. Sweet dreams.”

  The station switched to a commercial, and seconds later, a door opened down the hall and rapid steps approached.

  Christine entered the reception area, already wearing her coat, the messenger bag slung across her chest.

  Now. Ask her. But when she opened her mouth, what came out was, “Hey, Christine. Great show.”

  “Aye.” Christine stopped in front of the reception desk and put one hand on it. “Now I can put curing hiccups on the list of my professional accomplishments. Did you catch that call?”

  Paula laughed. “I sure did. The poor guy nearly choked to death when you told him to put something in his mouth.”

  “What’s wrong with that? I was talking about a lollipop or something like that.” Christine’s eyes twinkled.

  “Sure. After talking about contracting muscles in that voice of yours, I’m sure that’s all he was thinking about too.”

  Christine shrugged. “Can I help it if he confused the glottis with the clitoris?”

  Heat shot up Paula’s neck and through the rest of her body. Speechless, she stared at Christine. I can’t believe I’m sitting here, talking about clitorises with Dr. Christine Graham.

  Christine just grinned. She seemed to be in an especially good mood tonight.

  Now! Do it!

  But Christine was already buttoning her coat, preparing to leave.

  Paula gathered her courage. “Christine? Do you have a minute?”

  Christine glanced at her wristwatch. “Can it wait until tomorrow? I really need to get home.”