“That’s athemproblem. Besides. I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but not all men are like that. You have to find someone so secure in their manhood that your professional authority is just part of your charm.”
Instantly, and against my will, my thoughts draw back to Will Grant. How he’d admitted he wasprofessionally intriguedby my business model.The way he stood up when I walked in or out of a room. Like a modern man and an eighteenth-century English viscount combined.
“What’s got you so focused on my love life?” I ask.
“We’re going to be twenty-eight next year. That’s, like, officially ourlate twenties.”
“The horror,” I deadpan.
“Camila’s gettingmarried,J!” She gesticulates, and a splotch of pink paint flicks off her brush and onto my carpet. “Fucking married! And your little social media fashion brand is about to open its first physical store, and Leonie’s talking about taking out a loan so she can open her own yoga studio! What amIdoing?”
“Single-handedly carrying the Rare Beauty PR list on your back?”
“And delivering groceries!” she reminds me. “I’m the poster child for the gig economy. By the way, is this sign supposed to sayCami Gets Slammied?”
“She picked that out, not me,” I grumble.
“Frankly, I’m surprised Camila Sanchez is letting you plan a single thing.”
“The whole itinerary is a secret,” I remind her, starting on my third bag. “Just not the coordinated outfits, or the slogans, or the props.”
“So, the branding, Camila controlled.” She throws me a grin, a smudge of paint already drying on her cheek. “Makes sense.”
“And yet you claim,” I say, pointing a flamingo-pink penis straw at Gio’s face while her expression contorts in lesbian horror, “thatI’mthe one who can’t leave work at the office.”
“Prove me wrong,” she challenges. “Do something reckless and youthful and emotional and impulsive.”
“Maybe I will.”
CHAPTER SIX
Later that night, after I’ve showered and crawled into bed, my bones tired, my mind disassociating, I check my phone one last time before muting it and see a new text from Will.
I saved his number after he sent me a message at the office with his full name, as if I didn’t know it:Will Grant. But for some reason, I saved the contact as onlyWill.
Will:I extended my trip through Sunday
Josie:ok. Why sunday?
Will:I can’t meet with you tomorrow because of my other client but if you have time Friday, I want to pick your brain about B Corp strategies. And Saturday, I’m going to fix your car.
Josie:You want to pick my brain?
Will:Don’t fall over
Josie:You know it’s mostly girl pop lyrics and glitter up there, right?
Will:We both know that’s not true
Josie:Did you get Derrick’s dinner invitation?
Will:Yep. Eberly at eight thirty tomorrow night. I’ll be there.
Josie:Great
Will:Can I pick you up on the way?
Josie:why on earth would you want to?
