I lied.

Hershey's Kisses can't soothe everything. It's stuck on the roof of my mouth like glue. Starting to taste like it too.

There's something about getting called to my boss' office that wrings my guts into multiple knots. Aside from handing over my articles, I had no business leaving my fingerprints all over the place. Hell, I have always been a docile employee. Never once had I missed a deadline.

I push his office door open that he'd left ajar. I could hear him clicking his pen as if the trip from my desk to his office had taken ages. My hand irons my pencil skirt nervously as I made a reluctant step inside. "You wanted to see me?"

Howard Samuels sets aside his pen and motioned me inside. "Lewis, come sit down."

The moment I lowered myself into the seat behind his desk, he rambles on about my dedication as his full-time columnist. My boss is never effusive with praise. If he were to make a point later on, I'm well prepped it couldn't be going anywhere good.

And then the 'not good' part of the pep talk rolled in and I realized I just underestimated the severity of the bad news.

"I'm sorry, boss. I'm confused." I leaned forward as though to hear better.

My boss leaned back against his chair, massive shoulders expressing an equally massive personality, sank an inch as he hauled out a sigh. He studied me, aloofness in his wrinkling gray eyes. His hair was a dark brown when I first started as a budding intern and now three years later, they all grayed out.

"I'm in a writing rut?" I stare at my middle-aged boss across his ever-disarrayed desk.

Howard tucks his arms on his desk across his chest. His eyes look tamed and a tad bit apologetic. Once upon a time those same eyes held admiration in them when I doubled the readership of a waning column. And it has taken me loads of crappy errands and coffee-runs to be taken a chance on.

Being young and a woman in a city far from home wasn't exactly cupcakes and rainbows. I uprooted my life, taking with me my now four-year old son who centered my column from the very start. Single motherhood could be a challenge, but I earned a loyal readership out of it.

Howard picks up his pen, then started clicking it again. "Listen, Chassie, now's maybe the good time to take a break."

A bile lodged in my throat. "I'm not getting fired, am I?"

"No. I'm saying you should take a vacation. You haven't taken any since you started working for me. How long has it been?"

"Three years."

His eyes broadened. "See? You should take a break. Visit home."

"What about my column?" I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to pout and walk out in a huff. I tamp it down knowing it would be unprofessional. Not to mention ridiculous.

Howard shrugs. "I'll have that taken care of."

"So, I'm getting replaced?" By whom? I can't be in a writing rut.

"Only temporarily, my dear. Say, you take a month off and your column will be right there where you left it."

I sighed in surrender. I don't even have enough "sway" to sweet-talk myself out of stringent deadlines, let alone a freaking writing rut.

In the end, I shuffled out of his office without protest. I slumped back behind my desk with the world on my shoulders, a blank document on my computer mocking me.

My fingers idly click on a random key, my thumb pressing the space bar far more often than necessary. And the fruit of my effortless work? Still an art, yes. A few words without vowels – five spaces apart – and three rows of the alphabet.

"That's a promising piece you got there, Chassie George." A voice came up from behind me.

I spun my chair around. "One and a half hour late, Julie Montgomery. I'm guessing another walk of shame."

Her hand flew to her chest in a pseudo affront. "I did not."

"Wanna bet your Jimmy Choo on it?" Julie Montgomery is the only colleague I became friends with since I started working at a local newspaper. And since most of them have gone over the stage where they used to know the word 'fun.'

She lets out laugh. "Okay. Walk of shame. You want some carbs?" She laid her bag on her desk next to mine and opened a brown paper bag. "I have some brownies."

"No, thank you. I'm trying to keep this under control." I patted my hips.

Julie flops down on her chair. "You have incredible hips. And some juicy legs."

My nose scrunched up. "I'll pretend you didn't just use 'juicy' to describe my legs. You know, I think I saw the word on some advertisement about chicken thighs."

"You're better with words than I am," she says around a mouthful of brownie. "You're a great journalist who has a hot body."

"I don't know about that, Jules," I sighed heavily.

"About what?"

"About both." My hand was on the bottom drawer of my desk, ready to pull out a handful of Hershey's Kisses. I kept them for when I'm deserving of it. Or for when I'm writing and celebrating a good article.

Julie stopped midchew, medium brown eyes wide. "What's wrong?"

I fidget with the first button of my shirt. "Howard asked me to take a break."

"He did? Wait, I'm a little confused." She puts her half-eaten brownie on her desk.

"I'm in a writing rut," I murmured, the words bitter in my tongue.

"Writing rut?"

I didn't mind that her voice raised an octave. Or she shoots right off her seat like a rocket. I buried my face to my palms. "Yes. He wants me to take a break."

"What about your column? This is ridiculous. How can you be in a writing rut?" She paces back and forth in front of me. "What's going to happen with your column? It's not going to write itself."

"Someone is going to temporarily fill in for me."

"What?" Her voice skyrocketed as if it wasn't high-pitched enough. "This is bullshit."

"My thoughts exactly," I agreed although that one large bitter pill is already in the back of my throat however impossible it was to swallow. I have no other choice.

Julie gaped and drops back to her chair with a thump. "You should know that this gives me more heartbreak than most men in my life did."

"Noted." I forced a smile.

She stares at me, reaching for my hand. "Let's go get something to drink after work. On me."

The offer is tempting but, "I can't, Jules. It's Friday."

She nodded and gives me an amused pink matte smile. "Oh. I almost forgot. Today's one of those weird days where your ex-husband visits and stays for the weekend."

"It's not weird at all. We're just rational adults who managed to compromise. Besides, I can't do that to our Ethan."

"Yeah. That's not even the weirdest part yet. The fact that you guys are good friends blows my mind. What sort of human beings stay besties with their ex?"

I rolled my shoulders. "Nathan and I."

"That can't happen. I have tons of exes and believe me there's none of them that doesn't make me wanna throw a shoe at them."

"It can. Nathaniel is my best friend long before I married him."

He'd been friends with my older sister first. Nathan and Kathie were playmates long before I could learn how to walk. When I got older – older enough not to put everything in my mouth – I added into the duo.

Ironically, the boy who used to play priest each time we play "wedding" becomes the groom years later. Kathie had always been the beautiful bride and I was the groom.

Julie shakes her head. "It doesn't sit right with me. If I have an ex as hot as your Nathan, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself."

"He's not mine, Jules." I roll my eyes.

She crosses her leg over the other. "Just sayin', sweetie."