“They seem to really want the follow-up,” Brady said.

“I know. I can’t wait to write it.”

“I have no idea where you would get all this information about education policy,” he joked. “It’s not like you’re dating the Congressman who is on the education committee proposing the bill.”

“And you think the only reason I have information is because of you?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. If he thought that, then he was definitely mistaken. She had been invested in education policy long before she had ever known him.

“I don’t think it hurts.”

“I believe that I was the one to stump you at the press conference the first time we met,” she reminded him. “I was the one who kept badgering you about education policy while we were dating. I don’t need you to get information on education policy.”

“Clearly,” he said, gesturing to the computer. “You got into the Post without any help from me . . . just like you wanted.”

Liz smiled. “I’m pretty much a badass. Got into the Post on my own, got my boyfriend to be on the education committee instead of the budget committee . . .”

“I believe I’m not on the budget committee because I represent the Research Triangle. Though it was nice to tell you I was on the education committee when I walked into your panel at the political journalism colloquium.” He smirked down at her. “You should have seen your face.”

Liz smacked him on the arm. “You did that on purpose!”

“Of course I did. I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to throw me off balance.”

“Did it work?” he asked, lowering his face close to her mouth.

“It’s working right now. What were we talking about?” she breathed.

Brady kissed her deeply. “I believe we were discussing what I was going to do to you once I got you back to my place,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Now I remember. Something about me laid out on your bed and your tongue all over my body.”

“Is that a request, Ms. Dougherty?”

“Oh, yes.”

His eyes slid down the front of her shirt and then back up to her eyes. “I might make a few requests myself.”

“I’m always open to suggestions.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Just then the flight attendant started up the instructions and safety tips, and they began to taxi down the runway. Their banter tapered off and Liz was left aroused.

By the time they landed, she had drafted a letter to the editor accepting his offer to write a follow-up, but requesting to remain anonymous. She tried to argue that anonymity was important for her personal privacy. She hoped that would suffice.

The next few days were spent much the same as her spring break—more like a vacation than the end of her college career. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel like, but primarily she felt as if she was just floating. She didn’t have anything really to do besides write the follow-up article for the online journal and write a few blog posts for Justin now that he had sent over the information for the blog. She wasn’t sure how long it would take to get used to working for herself. Even as editor at the university paper, she had always had demanding deadlines, people reporting to her, and her reporting to the university. Now . . . it was just her.

The only downer came through rejection letters to graduate school that week. Professor Mires had said that she would hear by June 1 at the latest, and some had already trickled in. Not surprisingly, Columbia and Northwestern turned her down. She got into American University and was still waiting to hear from Missouri and Maryland. American was her backup school, but she was still holding out for Maryland, her number one choice.

On Thursday night when Brady returned from work, Liz was lounging in his living room with her computer on her lap and Pride and Prejudice on in the background. He started loosening his tie as he walked over to her. “Are you feeling like Elizabeth Bennet today?”

“Only if you are going to be as positively stubborn and arrogant as Mr. Darcy.”

“Well, that sounds like me, but Darcy had his reasons for acting like that,” Brady said.

“Are you defending him for snubbing her?”

“I’m defending him for getting a bad rep for what simply boils down to miscommunication,” he said, picking up her laptop and moving it to the table.

“Darcy does not have a bad rep. Everyone loves him.”

“Darcy and I are sounding more and more alike.” Brady sat down next to her and scooted her into his lap. He started trailing kisses down her neck and she sighed.

“How do you do that?”

“What?” he murmured.

“Make me forget everything we were arguing about.”

“Were we arguing?”

“Lovingly discussing the merits of Mr. Darcy,” she said. Her hands gripped the front of his suit.

“I thought we were talking about the rest of your graduation present.”

Liz pulled back to look at him. Her hand immediately went to the charm necklace she had been wearing nonstop. “The rest?”

“You can’t think that a charm is all you’re getting. I told you there was more.”

“You don’t have to get me anything, though, Brady.”

“If you don’t want it, then we don’t have to go to New York City this weekend to visit Chris and his girlfriend,” he said with a sly smile.

When he put it that way, there was no arguing. Of course she wanted to visit Chris, and it was as much a present for her as it was for him to go visit his best friend. She hadn’t seen Chris since the gala she had attended with him the night that Brady had given her a key to his house.

They left early the next morning for New York. She was jittery when they landed, excited to be back in the city for the first time since she had been fired from her job with the Times.

Their luggage was carried out to a waiting town car that whisked them downtown. This was a far cry from the last time she had been in the city over Christmas break, but she wasn’t complaining. Brady lived a certain lifestyle. He preferred first class to coach, a town car to a taxi, and designer suits to jeans and a T-shirt. It wasn’t a life she was accustomed to, and it was strange to think that it was her life now.

The driver dropped them off in front of an apartment building in Chelsea and promised that he would be on call when they needed him next. They walked inside and had the receptionist call to let them up. Chris was on the fourteenth floor at the end of a narrow hallway.