Alyssa squared her shoulders, tightened her grip on Bug’s lead, and took a step forward.
Then Bug spotted something—a dust bunny, a shadow, possibly the ghost of corporate dreams past—and lunged sideways, nearly pulling Alyssa off her feet.
“Bug!”
He ignored her with the practiced ease of someone who’d been ignoring people his entire life, trotting purposefully toward a water cooler, where he proceeded to investigate it with the intensity of a health and safety inspector who’d found a serious violation.
Alyssa groaned. “We’re never getting to that office, are we?”
Bug looked up at her, tail wagging, completely unbothered by her existential crisis. His expression clearly said: your human problems are not my concern. This water cooler, however, is fascinating.
Maybe, Alyssa thought, that was the point. Maybe Bug was trying to tell her something. Maybe she needed to stop overthinking this and just…be. Or maybe Bug was just a dog who liked water coolers and she was projecting meaning onto his complete lack of interest in her emotional state.
Either way, Alyssa decided to take a breath. She’d get to Evelyn’s office eventually, but for now she’d let Bug be Bug.
After all, wasn’t that what this whole partnership was about? Letting the dogs remind everyone to slow down, to be present, to find joy in the small things? Like water coolers. And sandwich crusts. And the lingering hope that maybe, just maybe, work didn’t have to be quite so relentlessly work-like all the time.
Alyssa sat down on the floor next to Bug, who had now moved on to sniffing the baseboards with the dedication of someone conducting a very important survey.
“Alright, buddy,” she said. “Five more minutes. Then we face the music.”
Bug wagged his tail in what Alyssa chose to interpret as agreement, though it might have just been because he’d found a particularly interesting bit of dust.
And for those five minutes, Alyssa let herself just be. No apologies, no stress, no Ice Queens waiting behind frosted glass doors.
Just her, Bug, and a water cooler on the twentieth floor of Crawford’s headquarters.
8
Second Chances and Soft Hands
Evelyn
“What the hell was that?” Evelyn barked once Ms Fox had stormed out with her dog.
“That was you getting told off by a fine piece of ass,” Maggie laughed.
“Never say ‘fine piece of ass again,’ Mags, seriously.”
“Whatever. Shewasfine. Did you see her hair? I would give my yearly paycheck for that mane.”
Evelyn rubbed her forehead. Why had that gone so badly? Had she spoken to the woman condescendingly?
“Mags, was I out of order?”
Maggie brought her forefinger and thumb close together. “A little, Evie. I mean I know today has been stressful, and you weren’t expecting to deal with a bunch of dogs on top of everything else, but you didn’t really give the woman a chance to tell you who she was or what she was doing here.”
“Hey, she told me to call my dad. How is that explaining things?” Evelyn protested.
“I think she only said that because you came out of the gate swinging. Your body language didn’t exactly scream warm and friendly.”
“Maggie, come on.”
“No, you come on. It’s been a bit of a running joke between us lately about your stress levels. You think I’m just nagging, but I’m worried, Evelyn. Ever since you took over from Richard you have been going full steam with no breaks. How many times have you come to the office before dawn?”
Evelyn went to open her mouth to mount some sort of protest, but Maggie wasn’t in the mood.
“Don’t answer that because we both know it’s one time too many. Yes, there is a lot of work to do, but nothing that’s out of the ordinary. Nothing you weren’t accustomed to before you became CEO. Everyone knows you were practically running the place well before your dad buggered off. Ask yourself why you have taken it upon yourself to carry all this extra weight?”
