And when had I started feeling like I couldn’t do this? Just a few weeks ago, I’d been on top of the world, feeling like I could master anything.
Now I was barely holding on by a thread.
I needed some air. And some time to think.
I stood. “I’m going to do a coffee run. Can I get either of you something?” I was starting to realize I wasn’t boss material, but this, I could do.
“Dirty chai,” Jet replied.
“And a half-strength, no fat latte for me, thanks, Audrey.”
I fought the urge to laugh. Tiff would absolutely hate this coffee order. I grabbed my coat. “Back in ten.”
Outside, the fresh air helped me breathe easier, but it didn’t do anything to shift the sinking feeling in my stomach.
Winnie had a point. I’d seen the event experience on her resume and was admittedly impressed. She could probably run the entire launch herself. And didn’t that thought just make me a little nauseous? I struggled to imagine passing off the reins to her. Even the idea of having her take control of the catering work set me on edge.
This was my launch. My opportunity to prove myself. To the MacMillan’s. To David. To myself.
A year ago, I wouldn’t have believed I could do it. Then Brad left, and I scraped together every bit of confidence I had to pull myself together to show that I didn’t need him to be ok. I didn’t need anyone.
I could do this.
A text from Tiff served as a welcome distraction, albeit a confused one when it just read, “you 2 are so cute!!!” It took another ten seconds for the photos to come through, multiple photos from Sarah’s wedding that Jackson had been tagged in on Instagram. The first, a selfie of us with Lucas and Marie, another of Jackson and I chatting animatedly to each other at the reception, and the last of us kissing on the dance floor.
Apart from the selfie, I couldn’t even remember these photos being taken.
Before I could respond, Tiff added, “I deserve the matchmaking CROWN.” No one—least of all me—could deny her bragging rights for bringing Jace and me together, but it was her support and her acceptance of Jackson that filled me with happiness.
I saved all the photos on my phone, told Tiff that it was beginner's luck and that no one liked a braggart. She sent back an emoji of a hand flipping me off.
Back at the office, I delivered the coffees then excused myself, leaving Winnie and Jet to finish some paperwork. I might not be prepared to delegate any of the launch, but I could at least find them something to do.
I remembered how they’d assisted Anthony the other week and decided that I’d been hogging our help far too much. David’s initial point had been for them to assist the whole team, surely. And if they were busy managing their own, albeit smaller accounts, I would be able to work on the launch without disruption.
After an hour of running around, I’d spoken to half of the other account managers—the half that were in the office anyway—and sent Winnie and Jet off to get acquainted with their new workload, leaving my office blissfully empty again.
Of course, that wasn’t going to last.
“Knock knock,” David said by way of actually knocking, “Are you free?”
There were about ten different things I needed to be doing at that moment, but I could probably spare five minutes for whatever David needed to see me about. “Sure, take a seat.”
“No can do, kiddo. Grab your coat. I’m taking you to lunch.”
“I’m too busy for lunch.”
He smiled. “I know. That’s why we’re going.”
He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so I stood and grabbed the coat off the back of my chair, along with my purse. David would never let me pay for lunch, but it felt rude to go without it anyway. His smile widened as I followed him to the elevator. “I have to check in on a customer anyway, so you can still feel like you’re working while we eat.”
We took David’s car downtown, and as soon I saw the Tavolino sign, I shot David a wry look. “A customer, huh?”
David chuckled as I followed him into the trattoria.
Strangely, I hadn’t visited the restaurant much, but anytime I did, I was always disappointed I didn’t make more of an effort. The small space was filled with very traditional styling; red and white chequered tablecloths, a wood-fired stove, even a semi-open kitchen, so you could hear snippets of frustrated Italian from the chefs as they cooked.
Nicky, David’s husband, immediately gravitated into the dining room as if some magnetic force had propelled him. His hands came up to David’s face as they kissed, and I melted at their easy display of affection. Twenty years together and still so in love. It gave me hope.
