8. Permission Not Required
8
PERMISSION NOT REQUIRED
MAISY
I awoke too early, cursing my alarm, my arm brushing tissues off my bed as I reach to turn it off. So many tears shed as I cried myself to sleep, memories taking me back to the night of Chelsea’s wedding, to the last time I was in Brooks’ arms.
Enough of that. I needed a shower and something for this headache fast. I didn’t have time to dawdle in the past.
An hour later, ready for work, I debated about the most healthy breakfast to combat the day’s stress ahead, when an email hit my inbox. The subject line caught my attention.
Re: Internal Innovation Initiative
Call for Staff Submissions
I sipped my first cup of coffee and read it. Per usual, it was one of those all-staff memos I usually skimmed and filed under “good for someone else.” But the words pilot project and cross-department collaboration made me pause. By the second paragraph, my pulse had kicked up a notch.
Orion was hosting an internal ideas competition—encouraging staff to submit proposals for cutting-edge initiatives in neuroscience, research application, or institutional wellness. Orion would fully fund the winning submission, assign the winner their own team, and give them development support directly under Dr. Stone. The winning employee would also be temporarily assigned full-time to work on the idea for an unspecified period.
I stared at the email. I had plenty of ideas. And if I choose the best one to enter and win, it could mean wonders for my career, not to mention a break from working with Julian for a while.
One thought in particular came to mind. I’d been turning it over since the day I first walked into Orion and this beautiful building—envisioning how light, sound, and spatial flow could impact stress regulation and recovery. Not just for us employees, but for patients in hospitals, researchers, caregivers, doctors. Like me, people who were stressed but driven, pushing relentlessly toward their passions.
I opened a blank document on my computer. Fifteen minutes later, my coffee cold, and my fingers aching, I had the bones of something real and bold.
And yet... I hesitated.
Was I a fool to think that I could submit this proposal and win? The prize stood way too valuable to pass up the chance. But there were a hundred scientists at Orion. What would be the odds mine would get selected?
I needed a second pair of eyes, someone in my corner to cheer me on. Sophie would simply get a blank stare and nod at the science words I’d spew at her if I read this to her. And I didn’t want to bother Chelsea with this; her reaction wouldn’t be any better than Sophie’s.
Professionally, the one person who I’d always had in my corner had been Julian.
At work, after using my lunch break to fine-tune my proposal, I printed the pages and made my way toward Julian’s corner office on our department floor.
When I knocked, he glanced up from his computer with a warm, familiar smile—the kind that had once made me feel like I belonged in the world of science, like I mattered.
From the first day we’d met in class at Columbia, we built a friendly rapport, as professor and student. Eventually, friends in class noticed I’d quickly become his favorite, often called upon to answer questions, taken aside to talk with over assignments, a little flirty. I took it in all stride. But it wasn’t until I arrived that very first day on the ship that I realized how much I’d need to depend on him and welcomed our connection.
The gray and white vessel loomed before me, large and foreboding. I had bid goodbye to my family at the car. Mom and Chelsea, even Sophie, splitting a box of tissues between them, wiping away tears.
I headed toward the dock, swallowing a lump in my throat. Each step I took, I hoped I made the right decision by doing this, and walking away from the life I’d known into the unknown. With a quick prayer, I asked for Dad’s guidance from Heaven; he would have loved going on this adventure with me.
I shifted the weight of my huge duffel on my back, the one packed with everything I’d have to live with for the next year, when I heard a man screaming my name.
I turned to see Brooks sprinting toward me. The air escaped my lungs. I thought he was too upset at me to want to see me off today. But he was here. I dropped my duffel to the ground just in time for his arms to wrap me up and twirl me around.
“Brooks!” I cried.
“Maisy. Fuck Maisy. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t,” he admitted. When he put my feet back down on the dock, I could tell from the bags under his eyes how much this hurt him. It hurt me to leave him, too, and if not for my family and friends keeping me busy with farewell and bon voyage parties, I probably would have been an ugly mess over it all.
“I’m glad you came. I hated leaving things between us like we did,” I said. We cooled things between us since spring, but each time we saw each other only started the fire again. His sexy face with the stubble on his strong jawline and the messy-on-purpose hairdo didn’t exactly give me the strength I needed to put a foot on that boat today, either.
He pressed the locks off my face and cupped my cheeks, his slate-blue eyes piercing into me. “I feel like a shit asking this. Please, don’t give yourself to anyone. Please. Save yourself for me.”
“Brooks, that’s so unfair. We’ve talked about this.” My lips trembled. “I mean, I want that, too, but it’s not fair to either of us. A year is a long time. How do I know another woman won’t parade in front of you and you’ll ? —”
“No, I can’t even think of another. All I see is you.”
A fog horn sounded from the ship, and an announcement came by the caption to board. “I have to go, Brooks.”
“This isn’t goodbye. Don’t let it be goodbye, Maisy.” His lips crushed mine in a last kiss to beat all kisses, my heart pounding out of my chest.
He helped me hoist my pack into place, and I had no more words, because if I spoke I’d cry and I’d crumble to the dock, never leaving.
So I mustered up every ounce of bravery and got on board that ship. I made it to the bow, where I could see the entire dock—and Mom, Chelsea, Rex, Sophie, and Brooks.
I stayed there and waved at them as the boat pulled out, until I couldn’t see them anymore, tears streaming down my face. “Goodbye,” I whispered, suddenly scared but excited all at once. I wanted to throw up from all the nerves in my body on edge.
Then a voice called from behind me—the deep baritone of Professor Julian Thorne, familiar and a total comfort to me today.
“I’m glad you made it. But don’t tell me you’re going to be crying everyday over this guy? Do you love him?” He asked.
“Who, Brooks?” I nodded and wiped my face. “I think so.”
“Well, you have two options. Either get off the ship and run to him. Or stay and trust me. I’ll keep you so busy, you won’t have time to think about him.” He came beside me, leaning his arms on the railing. His wry smile made a point. “If you care about your career at all, and if he does, too, then you’ll stay. If he’s worth it, he’ll be still be here when you get back. Now, are you ready to sail?”
Back then, he took me, a small town girl, and molded and shaped and encouraged me to be all I could be in this field of work. He was part of my history, my life, no matter how things stood between us now.
“Hey, you. Are done compiling that data all ready? I swear you run circles around some of these others here.” He greeted, gesturing for me to take a seat across from him.
“Sorry, no. I will need another day to work on the data. But I need a favor,” I said, holding up the pages. “Could you look at something for me?”
“Sure.” He set his glasses on the desk and took the printout.
“I got the email about the internal idea competition and thought I’d apply.” I nodded toward my draft proposal in his hands.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the rustling of paper as he scanned sheet to sheet. After a few minutes, he set the pages down with a sigh. With his elbows on the arms of his chair, he laced his fingers over his abs. On the ship, I’d had the pleasure of seeing his four-pack of abs in the tropical sun, playing games like volleyball with the crew on the top deck. Impressive for a man of his age.
“It’s a sound proposal. And very... you,” he complimented. I smiled. Relief swelled—until he added, “But I don’t think you should submit it.”
The smile slipped. “What? Why not?”
“You’re already stretched too far in our department,” he explained. “You’ve become a key team member in the short time you’ve been here. I was just telling the advisory board that I finally had a researcher I could trust to stay sharp and committed. If you win the competition, it’ll pull your focus away from your work here.”
“But it’s meant to do that,” I countered. “It’s an opportunity to collaborate, to try something new. Isn’t that the whole point? So that I can continue to grow and reach my full potential?”
He leaned forward, pressing his palms together on the desk. “Maisy, I just don’t want to see you get overwhelmed. Or worse—fail. These projects have visibility. If it doesn’t go well, I won’t be able to protect you from the fallout.”
His words— fail, protect —set off the red flag alarm in the back of my mind.
“I wasn’t asking you to protect me,” I grumbled. “I was just asking if it was any good.”
His face shifted. Just slightly.
“I’m flattered you brought it to me,” he said. “But think about your long-term track. Staying the course here will do more for your future than a flash-in-the-pan initiative.”
I nodded, curtly thanked him, and left his office with a polite smile plastered on my face. Inside I fumed. Then I made revisions, stewed about it more the rest of the day, texted Sophie for support, and chewed my nails down to their nubs.
By five o’clock, I submitted the damn proposal, anyway.
The announcement came three days later.
When Dr. Patterson swept through our department, followed by his assistant and Dr. Stone, I’d been elbow-deep in brainwave data. Everyone stopped what they were doing.
Julian stepped out of his office, adjusting his tie. “Dr. Patterson. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“We’re looking for Maisy Calhoun,” Patterson said, scanning the room.
Every eye turned to me.
I stood tentatively. “That’s me.”
He grinned. “Congratulations. We selected your proposal for the Internal Innovation prize. The sensory initiative you propose is exactly the kind of forward-thinking we want to pilot. You’ll be reassigned immediately to develop it.”
A ripple of surprise and clapping moved through the room, my peers regarding me with praise.
Julian, to his credit, clapped as well. “You’re taking my best researcher,” he said to the CEO, smiling. “But I’m excited to see what she can do.”
Patterson waved me forward and shook my hand. Cameras flashed—from the marketing and PR people. They interviewed me on the spot and I nodded, smiled, and hoped to God I’d said all the right things, thinking fast on my feet, with Julian scowling nearby.
When the crowd dispersed and the executive team left, he pulled me into his office and closed the door.
“I meant what I said,” he told me. “I cannot afford to lose you from the team, even temporarily.”
“Aren’t you remotely proud of me?” I crossed my arms. We’d had a few arguments from time to time onboard the ship, but nothing we couldn’t bounce back from. We had no choice, living in close quarters and spending nearly every minute together. But this? I rejoiced it might finally put a wedge between us.
“Of course, I am proud of you. I take great pride in the fact that I helped you get to this point. But had I known you were so determined to do this, I could’ve helped you structure the proposal and prepared you better.”
If only Sophie could hear him now, she’d go off on him. I scoffed. “Yet you didn’t. I came to you with it in advance and told you I wanted to do this. You told me not to submit it.”
“I told you to be careful. To think long term about your career.”
“I did,” I yelled. “And this is what I chose.”
He looked pained. “Maisy, I’ve always tried to guide you. To be someone who could keep you from making mistakes. But now you’ll be reporting to Patterson directly. If this doesn’t work, I have no way to protect you?—”
“Then it doesn’t work,” I countered. “And I’ll take responsibility. I don’t need protecting, Julian. I’m an intelligent, grown woman. Not some student you fancy and obsess over. Not anymore.”
He blinked at that. The weight of it. The finality.
I walked away before he could reply.
By the time I reached my desk, I felt ten pounds lighter.
This wasn’t about rebellion.
It was about finally building something of my own. About making my mark on this world.
Whether it succeeded or fell apart—I could finally say it was mine.
On the subway home after work, I texted Sophie. She had the luxury of working for herself as a marketing consultant from her bedroom. I told her everything, hoping she’d support my decision, because as much as this felt like a big win today, a small part of me doubted myself. I loved what she texted back: Sometimes the boldest move is saying yes to yourself.
Wow, Sophie had such a way with words at times. Like a true girl boss.
So moved, I saved her quote and created a cute wallpaper for my phone with them so I could read them every day. As if I was setting sail on my own journey, embarking on this next chapter of my life, I would hold those words in my heart dearly.