Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
The weekend is over. Not just any weekend: the weekend. The one in which I’d let myself try on an entirely different persona, became a woman who shared pizza with a guy, flirted on a bus, cuddled, and oh yeah, went apple picking.
As it turned out, Thomas and I never had to find out if we’d turned into pumpkins at midnight, because he’d left before then.
At eleven thirty-nine, to be exact. After we’d taken a long, long shower—together. And after we’d explored whether non-hotel sex would be as good between us as hotel sex.
God help me, though . . . it had been better. I didn’t think that was possible, but sex with Thomas Decker is freaking epic and only seems to improve the more we learn each other.
Even more alarming, the casual dinner after—Greek takeout eaten sitting cross-legged on my bed—had been just as enjoyable as the hookup, though in a different way.
I don’t know what is happening to me, but it’s highly annoying. Even more confusing is the way I keep obsessing over the fact that he didn’t mention seeing each other again.
That’s my non-line. That’s me who purposely doesn’t commit to future hangouts, and then last night when he’d left, he hadn’t said one word about the future.
I’m immensely grateful that I have a call with the agency to discuss the latest C&S campaign developments. Since Thomas’s abrupt departure from the project, I’ve been doing his job and mine: the managing and the creative work.
Not to mention troubleshooting the nonstop barrage of Slack messages and phone calls from my team back at headquarters, who’ve done what they always do when the senior manager position is vacant: throw it at Mac.
It’s a little overwhelming, but also pretty rewarding, and today, in particular, I’m grateful for the distraction.
I get another distraction just this afternoon when Christina stops by unannounced.
“Hey!” I tell her, dropping my headphones onto the desk and grinning at my sort-of mentor. “Coming to check up on your rogue employee?”
“Please,” she says, dropping her handbag onto the chair that used to be Thomas’s and pulling herself up onto the desk. “You’re the most dependable employee I have.” Then she laughs. “Okay, why do you look like I’ve just slapped you?”
I force my smile back onto my face. “No! Not at all.”
She gives me a steady look, and I sigh. “Okay, fine. I guess I’ve always just thought of dependable as a synonym for boring.”
“I get that. Not what I meant, but I get that.” She leans back slightly, putting her hand on her stomach. “Ugh, my PMS is on murder-levels this month. I swear I could murder a Philly cheesesteak right now.”
“We can make that happen. There’s a place just around the corner that’s decent.”
Christina looks genuinely tempted, but then checks her watch. “I wish. I have a dental cleaning just a couple blocks over, and I’m pretty sure if I reschedule again, they’ll fire me.”
“I don’t think dentists can fire patients.”
“Sadly, you’d be wrong,” she smiles. “And I actually like this one, because the hygienist watches all the best shows and tells me what to watch and what to skip while she cleans, but anyway.” She waves her hand. “I wanted to stop by and talk in person about the senior manager position.”
“Oh. Sure!”
I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course I’d be getting a new boss. I’ve just been so consumed with the person who last had the job, as well as doing much of the job, that I haven’t let myself even think about the fact that I’ll have a new manager soon.
“How’s the search going?” I ask. “Have you started interviewing?”
“No, I’ve been dragging my heels,” she says with a sigh. “Especially since I apparently got it so wrong with Thomas.”
I feel instantly defensive. “Thomas was a perfect hire,” I say sharply, surprised by how defensive I feel. “If anything, I think the job couldn’t make use of his skillset.”
“I agree,” she says easily. If she’s surprised by my vehement defense of a boss I only had for a couple of weeks, she doesn’t show it. “And you know, some of that’s on me. I listened to the higher-ups’ pressure to pick an Ivy Leaguer with an impeccable résumé, instead of listening to my gut.”
“I’m always a fan of the gut,” I say, twisting off the cap of my water bottle and taking a sip. “What’s yours saying?”
“That I should offer the job to you,” Christina says without preamble. “Again.”
I slowly re-cap the water. “Christina—”
“I know. I know, you don’t want it. But why? The team already looks up to you. You’re easy to work with, you’re exceptionally talented . . .”
She gives me a hopeful look. “Is flattery working?”
“Nope.”
Christina smiles a little, but then her expression turns serious. “Look. It’s your life, so I want to respect your wishes. But I also really like you, so I’m going to give this to you straight: You’re coasting, Mac. You’re playing it safe, and that reluctance to grow seems totally at odds with the feisty person I know. What am I missing?”