Chapter 20 #2
Sam smiled. Meredith nodded. “Great,” she said. “Let’s get together Thursday afternoon to look at it, and then I’m going to schedule a meeting with you and the rest of the new team at nine AM Friday, to finalize the presentation.”
“Sounds great, boss.” I was beaming.
This was exactly the boost I needed.
For the next forty-eight hours, I focused entirely on work.
It felt good, staying with Ellie; she was supportive and served as a great sounding board for all my ideas as I worked long hours on the launch materials.
Since she was in the restaurant business, having worked for the 21st Street Bistro’s owner since before it opened, she had great insight into what drew diners in.
She made sure I was fed. She made sure I had clean towels and cleared out a drawer for my clothes.
She was the best roommate a thirty-six-weeks pregnant girl could ask for.
Friday, I made it into the office extra early.
Sam and Meredith were already in the conference room, heads bent together.
He looked up briefly when he saw me step off the elevator, through the clear glass walls of the conference room.
He nodded appreciatively. I grinned back.
You said to be at the top of my game—well, here I am.
Later that morning, I met with Sam and Meredith and a handful of other account associates. We all presented our ideas in a roundtable discussion for Meredith to critique. Then she gave us all some action items and told us to plan on meeting again that afternoon to put together the final product.
“Before you all head out …” she said. “Since this account is a big deal for the Blackwell Agency, I am going to oversee it personally. However, I have decided to name Savannah as my deputy account manager. Savannah, you will work directly with the team to offer feedback and guidance and to ensure all deadlines are met. You’ll lead any team meetings that I am unable to be at, and check in with me regularly. Good?”
“Great,” I responded enthusiastically, then cleared my throat and tried not to look too overeager. “I mean, thanks for the opportunity. I look forward to it.”
Meredith shot me a quick but stern look, as if to say, Don’t make me regret this.
Her unspoken words weren’t lost on me. I knew this was my final chance. If I screwed this up, I was finished.
Saturday morning, Ellie convinced me to take a little break from agonizing over the Torres presentation.
Though Sam and Meredith had both signed off on the final draft, I couldn’t help but read it over and over again—I was getting a little obsessive.
We decided to catch the latest rom-com playing at the local movie theater, then head down to Pier 39 to eat our favorite clam chowder sourdough bread bowls while spotting seals.
The movie was fantastic, and successfully helped clear my mind of my worries for a while.
Later, Ellie left for her dinner shift at the bistro, and I sprawled on her couch, Friends reruns playing in the background.
I reached for my phone and started scrolling through social media.
Oh, how cute! A high school friend had just had her second baby. I hit Like.
The next photo set off alarm bells in my mind.
It was a post by someone named Liz Montrose. She was extending her arm up toward the ceiling in order to capture herself and several other women in a big selfie.
My heart started beating faster. The woman next to her was Madison, wearing a teal blue racerback dress, her brown locks cascading in gentle waves around her.
She wore a sash across her chest that said “Mommy To Be,” and was standing in front of a banner flanked by bunches of balloons.
The banner read, “Welcome, Baby Charlie!”
The phone shook in my grasp as I read the post.
“So excited to celebrate this gorgeous mommy-to-be today! Just a few more weeks until we get to meet Baby Charlie!”
“Baby Charlie?” I yelled to Ellie’s empty living room. “She thinks she gets to name my child?” Blood thundered in my ears.
I stood up, my phone falling onto the couch, and started pacing, one hand on my belly and the other on my chest, trying to hold in the furious scream that wanted to escape. Tears burned the backs of my eyelids.
Max said he would put a stop to all of this! He said I had nothing to worry about anymore. How stupid I was to believe him for even a second.
That was it—I was going to call him. His phone rang and rang, until his voicemail picked up. I hung up and dialed again, with the same result.
“Where the hell are you?” I shouted into the phone. Max had promised to keep his phone on him at all times in case I went into early labor. So much for promises.
I pulled the offending photo back up on my phone and glared angrily at it. Then I noticed the time stamp—it had been posted just thirty-four minutes ago. This is happening now! A baby shower for MY child. The child she thinks is going to be hers.
I looked at the background of the photo and noticed that the banner was hung over a table near a sliding glass door that opened to a balcony. I recognized that balcony. Max’s apartment.
A fire ignited inside me. I took two swift steps toward the front door—then stopped.
Am I really doing this?
Max’s repeated admonition rang in my ears: Just calm down, Savannah.
No. I was done being calm.
I put my sneakers on, grabbed my jacket and keys, and headed out the front door.