“Four minutes for what?”
“Victoria. She scheduled a meeting.”
“In four minutes?”
Maya checked her watch again. “Now it’s three minutes and twenty-eight seconds.”
The room began to spin, forcing me to grab the nearest decorative bear statue for support. I gestured at my disaster of a body. “I can’t do a Zoom call like this.”
“It’s ah … not a Zoom call. It’s in person. Victoria flew in this morning.”
“No. No no no. I can’t meet Victoria looking like this.” I caught another whiff of wet dog mixed with what I could only describe as ‘eau de flatulent horse.’ “Or smelling like this.”
“Sam …”
“I have leaves in my hair, Maya. Actual leaves.”
“Sam ...”
“Possibly small insects building a tiny civilization.” I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to contain the panic. “Tell her I’m sick. Tell her I’m missing in the forest. Tell her I got kidnapped by Bigfoot.”
“Sam,” repeated Maya, her tone sharpening with urgency.
“Please, Maya, I can’t do this right now. Just tell Victoria ...”
“Tell me what, Samantha?”
Slowly, I turned. Victoria stood right behind me. Marcus was on one side of her. Parker on the other.
As Parker and I locked eyes, I wasn’t sure which of us was more shellshocked — me at seeing him here, or him at witnessing what a few days in authentic Colorado had done to his previously polished mentor. “Sam? Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better,” I admitted, fighting the urge to dive behind the bear statue and hide. “What are you doing here?” From the deer-in-the-headlights expression on Parker’s face, I got the distinct impression he didn’t quite know why he was there either.
“I asked him to come,” said Marcus, his voice as cold as an abandoned cabin in the wilderness.
“We figured you were going to need the help,” Victoria added, her eyes performing a comprehensive inventory of my wilderness-ravaged appearance.
“Help with what?” I asked.
Marcus smiled his shark smile. “Fixing everything you broke.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Click. There I was, face-planting into the river, mouth open in a scream.
Click.Yeti and I, in a mountain meadow selfie, our tongues out like fools.
Click.Me, sweat-soaked after a hike, mascara streaking down my face like I’d auditioned for the raccoon role in a woodland creature musical.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, their flat, artificial glow draining all the color from the LuxeLife conference room as I sank lower in my chair. The sterile white walls felt suffocating after a day of endless mountain horizons.
“What exactly were you trying to convey here?” Victoria pointed at the screen where I hung upside down from my safety harness, hair a vertical waterfall of tangles.
“Um...”
I sat and watched as Marcus scrolled through my content from the past few days, each new image flashing on the massive screen like evidence at a trial. Every click felt like another jury member holding up a little sign that read, “GUILTY.”
“And this sequence?” Marcus paused on a candid shot of Noah from behind, bending over to tie his hiking boot.Click.Another shot of Noah bending over to collect muffin wraps.Click.Another, Noah, bent over to shoo a caterpillar before it got smushed on the trail.
