“I wish I could,” I snapped my suit jacket as I turned to face him again. “But this hair closes deals, my friend. Now if you don’t mind… I need a moment to warm up the old charm.”
“I knew I should’ve packed an extra barf bag.”
I bit back laughter as I walked back to my desk to grab my things. My usual routine before a big meeting was to wait out the last few minutes in the conference room. Assume full authority over my domain. The guys were always ragging me about charming my way into people’s wallets—which wasn’t far off the mark—but they respected the ritual of letting me set the tone and run things my way. Ethan had spreadsheets, Adrian had mood boards, and I had presence. Some called it arrogance, but it was pure strategy.
“Interesting…” I scanned my desk. Rifled through the ‘IN’ tray on the corner of it. But before I gave in to actual panic— “Hey, you didn’t move the Halston folder by any chance, did you?”
“The folder with your pitch that you’re pitching in less than half an hour?”
I went round to check my desk drawers even though I never keep paperwork there. It was just something to do while my mind retraced my steps with that damn thing.
“Fuck.” I slammed the last drawer and straightened, suddenly sweating. “What time did Ethan say he had to be in Cambridge?”
Adrian’s face didn’t give me the glimmer of hope I was looking for. In fact, it did the exact opposite. He looked at his watch, then back at me, shaking his head slowly. “You missed him by about an hour. The folder’s at home?”
“No,” I said, pacing behind my desk. “He wanted to look over it last night, and I left it in his office.”
Of every curveball I prepared for, not being prepared wasn’t one of them.
“Just print out more copies,” he replied with a shrug. When he got no response, he added, slower, “From the digital copy you obviously have on your laptop…” And when I still didn’t respond, he finally got it. “Fuck. It’s on Ethan’s laptop, because your Adobe Suite’s been acting up.”
I nodded, jaw clenched. The pitch that I was sure would finally seal the deal with Halston was currently in Ethan’s briefcase. In Cambridge. Even if he agreed to bail on his meeting, it’d take him about half an hour to get here.
“You’re just gonna have to wing it, man,” Adrian said, and the encouraging tone in his voice was disturbing. Like I could tell he was forcing it, because he knew I was screwed. “You’ve winged your way through worse.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Ethan’s not home.”
“Uh… We’ve established that, yes.”
“The folder I need is in his office.”
Adrian looked at me like I was having some kind of mental break. “Again, already established."
But I didn’t have time to bring him into the plan that had struck me out of nowhere. Home was only about fifteen minutes away. Ten, if you really put a foot on it. That meant—
“Maren, hey.” My grip tightened on my cell phone, and I watched realization dawn on Adrian’s face. He high-fived himself then gave me two thumbs up for thinking on my feet.
Maren would be the Hail Mary that saved the day.
“Hey,” her voice came warm and slightly breathless, like she’d just wrangled three hurricanes through downtown traffic.
“Emergency,” I said. “The Halston campaign folder. Ethan’s office. You need to bring it to me, please. Fast.”
“Fast?” Her surprise was tempered by a laugh. “I just got back from the school run. The kids haven’t eaten, and you know how they get when they’re hungry.”
“I’ll have Adrian order takeout. Anything they want.” Because begging was easier than explaining that this folder literally decided the fate of our quarter. “If you get it here in ten minutes, I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.”
There was a pause, then she said, “How did you know I'm a sucker for lifetime debts?”
“Lucky hunch.” And a smile broke easily through the rising panic, surprising me just a little. I’d liked her from the start—out of desperation, then after I learned she’s kinda cool. But it was the cheeky side of her that really got me going. Apparently, more than I’d realized at first.
“Well?” Adrian asked when I ended the call.
“You’re ordering lunch for the kids,” I said, making my way to the conference room. Adrian followed, with several questions, naturally. “Oh,” I cut him off, “Get something for Maren too. Something sweet, maybe. Yeah, she’d like that.”
The elevator buzzed twelve minutes later, with Maren and the kids spilling out in a whirlwind of bickering. Until they realized where they were, of course. Sadie launched herself at a beanbag like it was a trampoline. Will immediately found his way to his favorite egg chair, flopped down in it, and got back to his video games. Emma stalked right up to me, clutching her backpack to her chest.
“Maren said I can’t bring paint here, but I brought it anyway because I wanted to paint.”
