Chapter one
Charlie
My laptop screen illuminates the growing darkness of my office as I stare at the email that just ruined any chance of me having a social life tonight.
Dear Ms. Whitaker, after our board meeting today, we've decided to pivot our campaign in a more youthful direction...
Translation: We're throwing out three months of your work because someone's nephew mentioned a TikTok trend at the family dinner.
I scroll through the rest of my client's email, each sentence making my blood pressure climb another notch. Their fourth pivot this month. Their third "exciting new direction." Their second "minor tweak" that requires rebuilding the entire content calendar.
"Fantastic," I mutter, checking the time in the corner of my screen. 6:48 PM. Everyone else is packing up to leave while I'm settling in for what promises to be another thrilling night of corporate indecision.
I click over to their folder on the shared Drive, rubbing my eyes as I scan through the dozens of files. Each one represents hours of my life I'll never get back. I exhale slowly, feeling a strand of my auburn hair slip from my messy bun and fall across my face. I brush it behind my ear with practiced resignation.
My phone lights up with an incoming call and my little sisters face appears on the screen. I briefly consider ignoring it, but she would just keep calling until I answered.
"Hey," I say, sandwiching the phone between my ear and shoulder while I continue scrolling through documents.
"CHARLIE!" Her voice blares so loudly I have to pull the phone away. "It's Taco Thursday! Lily's already bought the ingredients and I picked up that fancy tequila you like!"
In the background, I hear Lily call out in her thick British accent, "The good stuff! Not the one that makes you want to text your secondary school boyfriend!"
"That was ONE time," I protest.
"So, when are you coming home?" Emily asks. "Lily's making her famous guacamole and we’re turning on Sing King karaoke."
I glance at the files on my screen and sigh. "I can't. The client from hell just completely changed directions. Again."
"Again?" Emily groans. "Charlie, you're such a workaholic! Live a little!"
"I live plenty," I mutter, opening another document and wincing at the revisions I'll need to make.
"When was the last time you went out? And don't say last Tuesday when you had lunch on a bench outside your building."
"That counts as going out though."
"It does not, and you know it," Lily says in the background. "Ever since Ethan—"
"Don't," I cut her off. "I'm not working late because of him. I'm working late because some corporate executive can't make up his mind about whether his logo should be 'ocean blue' or 'coastal cerulean.'"
"Fine," Emily sighs dramatically. "But next Thursday, you're not getting out of it. I don't care if Beyoncé herself becomes your client."
"Alright." I sigh into my phone, not having the energy to start an argument with her.
We chat for another minute before I hang up, immediately feeling the silence of the office press in around me. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and somewhere down the hall, the copy machine whirs to life, probably printing outTPS reports or whatever nonsense keeps the accounting department busy after hours.
I rub my temples, feeling a headache building behind my eyes. A soft knock on my door frame makes me look up.
Zoe stands there, purse over her shoulder and coat draped over her arm. My assistant looks fresh and ready for whatever exciting twenty-something adventures await her this evening, while I’m sure I look like I've been ran through a wind tunnel.
"I'm heading out," she says. "Was that Ethan on the phone?"
My stomach does a sickening flip at the mention of his name. I haven't told her that we are no longer together. I haven't told anyone at the office, but six months should be enough time to hear my ex-fiancé's name without feeling like I've been sucker punched.
Apparently, it's not.
"No," I say sharply, then soften my tone. "Just my sister and roommate trying to lure me home with tacos and karaoke."
