All Through the Night: A Troubleshooter Christmas by Suzanne Brockmann Page B

Robin’s smile faded. He felt like an asshole, which was exactly what he was. “It can be outside the office—in fact, I’d prefer it. More casual—relaxed. Maybe we could meet for coffee—or drinks?”
    Robin was too polite to simply turn and walk away. “Will, can I be honest? You’re kind of pushing the no-business boundary here. Why don’t you call my personal assistant on Monday and set something up? Her name’s Dolphina—she’s around here somewhere. Get her card, and call her, okay?” He shook Will’s hand again, giving him a farewell pat on his shoulder with his other hand.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Will said quickly, before Robin could turn away. “I just…I’m new and I wanted to jump right in to fight the bad news—you know, the most recent ratings lag.”
    â€œCrap,” Robin said, taking the bait. “Are we really down again?”
    They were. Will had done
that
research at least. And wasn’t
he
a total turd for giving the man that grim news during a party. Still, he made himself nod. “It’s the time-slot thing.” He didn’t know why the critically acclaimed show was struggling to keep its audience, but surely that wasn’t helping. “They keep moving you. My own TiVo can’t even find you.”
    Robin’s smile was rueful now. “Terrific.”
    Will pushed it. “I know you’ve said no interviews, especially in regard to your upcoming wedding, but…It’s a good story, Robin. People are curious about you. They’re curious about your fiancé. We can stay away from invasive questions, you know, who’s top, who’s bottom—that kind of thing.”
    Robin was shaking his head in disgust. “But those are the questions that would be asked—you and I both know that.”
    â€œMaybe the solution lies in anticipating it,” Will said. “We could come up with a response that—”
    â€œNot even close,” Robin cut him off. “I say anything at all about sex, even if it’s obviously a joke, you know—even if I’m mocking them, like,
What I really love is doing it in a pig mask, while swinging from a chandelier,
and suddenly it’s a sound bite all over TM-fucking-Z dot-com.”
    And wasn’t that the truth. Will fought the urge to say,
Stop right there. Don’t say another word to me. My iPod is recording you.
    â€œYou know what the problem is?” Robin lowered his voice to confide in him. “There’s no story here. Everyone thinks there is, you said it yourself, but there’s not. I fell in love with a terrific man and…I made some choices about what I wanted my life to be like—sunlight instead of shadows. I’m convinced I made the right choices—I don’t regret a thing. I enjoy my work—I hope the show stays afloat, but if it doesn’t, so be it. What’s important to me is that I’m in an amazing relationship, and hallelujah, Jules loves me, too. We’re getting married for the same reason that everyone else gets married—because we want our commitment to each other to be both publicly known and legal. We’re incredibly happy—and really boring. There’s no conflict, no story. So the media tries to create one, because sex sells, and because gay sex still scares some people. Although you know what’s really scary? It’s why so many alleged conservatives want to know the details about what goes on in the privacy of
my
bedroom. No offense, Will, I like you, but I really don’t want to know what floats your boat when you’re naked with your significant other. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine, and as long as we’re all consenting adults, what’s the problem?”
    Will shook his head, but Robin, God help him, was just getting warmed up.
    â€œThe way I see it, sex is an important part of every loving, romantic