Epilogue
Six weeks later
Poet
“Hold on, I’m sending some photos through,” Salem said.
I sat at my desk and glanced at the clock. I still had ten more minutes on my lunch break. Dread curled through me. I had a meeting with my boss at one and I wasn’t looking forward to it in the least.
“Did they go through?” Salem asked. “My service is shit out here.”
“Let me look.” I lowered my phone. A moment later, it buzzed with a text from Salem. I clicked over to it and scrolled through the photos from the Rudolph Lancaster photoshoot many weeks ago.
Most were of Cas, of course, but there were several with Salem and Cas together. They’d also gotten Declan to model. But unlike most model shots that looked like they were in the studio, these were rustic, authentic, with Idaho mountains and a real working ranch.
I put the phone back to my ear. “Are they selling clothes or a way of life?”
“I know, right?” Salem asked.
“You look gorgeous, by the way.”
“Airbrushed,” she said.
“Huh, right. They airbrushed the hell out of you with pregnancy glow. Seriously, Salem.”
“Thanks, girl,” she said. “It was so fun and everyone is ecstatic with how the shoot turned out.”
My phone buzzed with another text from her.
“What was that text?” I asked.
“More photos. Not of Declan and Cas, but our two new ranch hands. The photographer got a little carried away and accidentally on purpose took a lot of photos of them. Look.”
I once again lowered my phone, clicked over to the messages, and blew up the photos. There were two men, shirtless by a fence, but the sun was directly behind them so I could only see the face of one of them clearly. He had a smile on his face and a dark mustache.
My eyes immediately went to the other man, the faceless man. His back was sculpted and ink splayed across the breadth of his broad shoulders.
“Poet?”
“Sorry, yeah, I’m here.”
“They’re nice to look at, aren’t they?” she asked knowingly.
“Very nice,” I agreed, wondering why my belly was warm and I suddenly felt like I had a fever. “Which one is the ex-con?”
“The one without the mustache.”
“I can’t believe Muddy was okay with an ex-con working the ranch.”
“You’d never know it by talking to Brooks. He’s quiet, keeps to himself, but is respectful. I’ve never seen him smile, though.”
“What was he in for?” I asked.
My phone chimed with my alarm.
“Crap, sorry, Salem, I gotta go,” I said. “My meeting is in five minutes and I’d like to hit the restroom real fast.”
“Call me after. I want to know how it went,” she said. “I worry about you.”
“That’s sweet, but you don’t have to,” I lied.
“Kind, gentle Poet, of course I worry about you because of that snake you work with. Okay, bye.”
I hung up with Salem, and then rose from my office chair. The bathroom was empty and I quickly did my business. As I washed my hands, I stared in the mirror and gave myself a pep talk.
Wyn had called earlier that morning to give me one of her cheerleader speeches, but it was more of I’ll kick anyone’s ass who makes you cry speech. Hadley was much calmer and listened when I talked. I needed my friends to have those protective attitudes. I hadn’t been born with one at all.
I was one step below people pleaser. I just let them walk all over me.
Bracing my shoulders, I pointed at my reflection. My new glasses gave me confidence and I was determined to hold my own in this meeting.
I walked back to my desk and saw my boss’s door cracked open. Frowning, I went over and knocked.
“Come in,” Candace called.
I pushed the door open and stopped. Alma, my work nemesis, sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were already in a meeting,” I said, attempting to back away.
“I called this meeting to talk to you both,” Candace said. She waved at the vacant chair.
I paused, and then came inside, closing the door behind me. I lowered myself into the chair, and then sat on my hands so I wouldn’t fidget with nerves.
Alma looked at me, cool and composed. She was the kind of woman who belonged in the corporate world. She was a machine that never tired. Her clothes were never wrinkled. And her bob was just the right mix of angry and chic.
She looked like a mini version of Candace.
Candace 2.0.
I still didn’t know why Candace had hired me.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Candace said. “We’ve been bought out. We’re merging with Hawthorne Whitaker.”
“Are we fired?” Alma asked.
Candace shook her head. “No. There will be layoffs, but we’re not there yet.
However, for the next six weeks, we will have a consultant in the department.
Let me be blunt with you both; their job is to find the fat and cut it.
Corporate restructuring or whatever. One of you was going to get a promotion, but unfortunately, there’s only one job after the merger.
So, my advice to you both is this: eat, sleep and breathe your work for the next six weeks.
At the end of that time, one of you won’t work here anymore. ”
“I won’t even go home to shower,” Alma promised without delay. “My gym is just down the street. I can shower there.”
Candace beamed at her.
Kiss ass.
Candace grabbed her pen and went back to the papers on her desk, effectively dismissing us. Alma got the hint and stood, leaving Candace’s office, but I sat there like a perplexed idiot.
I already worked like a dog. I spent far too many lunch breaks crying in the bathroom stalls. Now I had to work even harder to prove to someone who didn’t even know me that I was worthy of keeping my job on top of fighting for a promotion.
I looked around Candace’s office. The Montblanc pen, the crystal St. Louis paper weight on the ornate, old world antique desk, the dozens of framed book covers on the walls that had hit the top of the bestseller lists.
These were Candace’s crowning achievements. Achievements I had wanted to accomplish at almost any cost. But at the moment, they seemed superficial and hollow.
What was the point? I would never be a Candace. I’d never be an Alma. Clawing my way up the corporate ladder. For what? Hoping someone didn’t shove me off when I finally reached the top?
My brain flashed forward twenty years.
Me. Late at night. In an office. Surrounded by things instead of people.
Tired.
Single.
Lonely.
No. Absolutely not.
“You can go now, Poet,” Candace said pointedly.
When I didn’t reply, she looked up from her papers.
The spine I usually lacked snapped straight.
And a voice that had never come out of my mouth said, “No.”
Her Botoxed forehead didn’t move, but her tone implied a furrow. “No? What do you mean no?”
“This—this whole situation. The merger. The six weeks . . . I’m not doing this. I’m not doing any of it.”
“You don’t have a choice,” she said. “If you want to keep your job, this is what you have to do.”
“There’s no guarantee I’ll even have a job at the end of six weeks anyway.”
“So, you’re giving up before you even start.” She shook her head. “Accepting failure without even trying for success. I knew it was a mistake to hire you. You don’t have what it takes to succeed. You’re not cutthroat. You never were.”
I suddenly smiled.
She stared at me, uncomprehending.
I rose from my chair. “You’re right. Thank God, you’re right.” I turned to leave, and just as I crossed the threshold of Candace’s office, I pivoted slightly and looked back at her over my shoulder. “So I quit.”
She scoffed. “You can’t quit. People don’t just quit. What are you going to do?”
“Well, like every main character, I’ll figure it out.”
And then I walked out on my old life.
Oh, God. What have I done?
Thanks for riding along with me!