Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
No matter what I say, it’s going to sound dumb. So I don’t bother.
After a long soak in the bath and a couple of cocktails on Sunday night, I called Jamie and filled in the gaps from our walk of shame conversation on Saturday morning. I was relaxed and a little freer with my thoughts and feelings than I probably should’ve been. I think it painted a picture that might be a little too … accurate.
“I’m not denying myself anything,” I say. “I’m just giving myself new opportunities for adventure.”
She snorts. “You mean Curtis?”
“Yeah. I mean Curtis.”
She downs the rest of her drink and grabs the broom again.
“Do you think Curtis is going to be the guy to bring you passion and love and affection?” she asks. “Or is the vino connoisseur your next lover boy?”
The thought makes me want to gag.
“No,” I admit. “I don’t necessarily think he fits any of those qualifiers. But he is closer to my age and less likely to break my heart.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be picky this time around?”
“Yes, and I am. I intentionally chose a man who would provide me with something else to think about.”
“Besides the guy you really like, right?”
She hums.
I hum back at her.
This is a mess—a big ole mess. But I’m determined not to let my attraction to my boss derail my new direction in life.
I can handle this. I’ve got this.
I also fear that I am lying to myself.
Chapter Sixteen
Aurora
“I don’t like any of them.” I scroll back to the first page of uniform designs. “They’re just lackluster. There’s nothing iconic or fun about any of these.” I glance over my shoulder at Tally, who is standing behind me. “What do you think?”
“I can’t disagree with you. I don’t know how they missed the mark so badly. These are unfortunate.”
“Take this one, for example,” I say, pointing at the design in the center of the screen. “Nothing about this pops. It’s completely generic.”
“It’s better than this one.” Tally motions toward the last one displayed on my computer screen. “I’m not sure where they were even going with this. If I were a child at a hockey game and someone ran up to me wearing this, it would’ve scared the bejesus out of me.”
“The one beside it is three strips of fabric. I don’t know what they’d charge for this, but if it’s over ten dollars, it’s too much.”
Tally sighs, moving around my desk and sitting across from me. She pulls her computer onto her lap and starts typing away.
“I’m just making some notes before I forget,” she says. “I’ll respond to their email with our comments and ask them to try again. I’ll ensure you’re cc’d.”
“Thank you. Maybe try emphasizing that we want something fresh and fun.”
“And family friendly.” She looks at me over the screen and grins. “Should I insist that they use a minimum of five strips of fabric?”
I laugh, switching from my email to my online calendar. “Now let’s review the audition schedule. You reserved the facilities for the dates in blue, correct?”
“Right. I have a tentative hold on the dates in yellow, too, just in case. It’s so hard to snag times. I figured it was better to have more and not need them than not have them and be screwed.”
“Absolutely. We’re announcing everything next week. Are we ready to go on that?”
Tally finishes her typing with a flourish. “Yup. Ready to go. We have new Social accounts and an amazing new website to launch on Monday. I’ll have a few posts for you to approve in a day or two. Derek was going to use Good Day’s research to help tailor the posts to our targeted demographic, but the report, as you know, is delayed.”
“Okay. Applications open on Saturday, correct? And we’re doing that through a portal on the website?”
“Exactly. The tech team is adjusting the back end of the website, which I don’t fully understand, but they expect it to be completed by Wednesday.” She looks up. “Guess it should be done tomorrow.”
Bile creeps up my throat as I think about Wednesday.
“You just turned a little green,” Tally says, confused.
“I’m fine. I just …” I sigh. “I have a date on Wednesday night at six with a guy I should never in a million years have agreed to see.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I hate myself, apparently.” I look at the ceiling. “We’re going to Caesar's at six.”
“That’s … an interesting choice.”
“Yeah. Let’s move this conversation along, please. I’m going to pretend this date isn’t happening until the very last minute.”
She side-eyes me like I might fall apart but does as requested. “Additionally, I reviewed your notes from last week on the audition process, and I’m not sure I fully understood them. Do you have a moment to go over it?”
“Of course.”
My email dings and a new message from Tally is at the top.