Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bella
I sat at the dining room table on a Zoom call with Geneva.
“Your work is excellent, Bella.” She smiled. “Our fall products are selling so fast, we can barely keep up. We’ve seen a massive increase already this quarter, and we know this will be our best quarter yet.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Geneva. Hopefully your Christmas campaign will do the same.”
I sat silently and prayed she’d ask me to shoot their Christmas campaign so I could stay in New York longer.
“I’m hoping. I showed Hattie what you’ve done for fall, and she said she would try to replicate the same for Christmas.”
Instantly, my brows furrowed. “Who’s Hattie?”
“She’s the social content manager you’re filling in for. She’ll be back from her leave on November 1st and will take over the Christmas campaign.”
“Oh,” I said.
“You’ve done such a wonderful job, Bella. I can’t thank you enough. I just know the next couple of weeks of you working for us is going to be amazing. Keep up the good work. I’ll talk to you soon.”
And just like that, her face disappeared.
I shut my laptop and pushed it away. I knew Hattie was coming back eventually.
I was only hired for their fall campaign.
I knew it was only temporary, but I had hoped they’d see enough potential in me to want to hire me on permanently.
Which they did. Geneva praised my work up and down.
They’re having their best quarter ever because of the fall campaign I put together.
I’d changed things. I shifted the way Ever & Oak presented their brand.
I paid close attention to what people were responding to instead of posting the same things repeatedly. I tested new content, and it worked.
The Christmas campaign was already thought out in my head.
I had the best ideas for content. I’d been saving ideas on my phone and making notes whenever something came to me.
I had a solid plan on how I’d build momentum from November into December.
I shouldn’t have thought about it, but I was sure Geneva would give me a permanent job after she saw how well the fall campaign was doing.
But that wasn’t the case, and I needed to stop thinking about it.
I stood from the chair and walked over to the window. I stared out at the city and thought about what now. Hattie would be back soon and resume her position. She would take over Christmas. And me? I’d be back to where I was before I came to New York.
I couldn’t think about it anymore, so I went to the store and picked up everything I needed to make Simon a chicken pot pie for dinner.
Simon
By the time I stepped off the elevator and walked into the penthouse, I was fucking done with the day.
Tribeca had consumed nearly every minute of it, and I couldn’t focus on anything else.
I loosened my tie and tossed my keys onto the table.
That’s when I smelled it. Chicken pot pie baking.
She’d actually made it. After giving me shit this morning and telling me she wasn’t my personal chef, she’d made the damn pot pie after all.
“Bella?” I called out.
“In the kitchen.”
There was something in her tone that didn’t settle right with me. I walked into the kitchen, and she was bent over the oven, taking the pot pie out. She set it on the stove, turned, and looked at me. She didn’t look happy.
“You made it.” I smiled.
“I did.” She walked over to the island and picked up her wine glass.
“With extra crust?” I asked.
“Yes, Simon.”
“And peas?”
She stared at me, and I could tell she was in a bad mood.
“Do you really want to ask me about the fucking peas right now?” she snapped.
“No,” I quickly replied.
“Good.”
I took off my suit coat and tossed it onto one of the stools at the island. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had a shitty day. I walked out of the kitchen and over to the bar. I grabbed the bottle of scotch and poured more than I should have into the glass.
“Bad day?” Bella asked.
“Really bad,” I said. “It looks to me like you had one as well. How bad was yours?”
“Pretty fucking bad.” She walked back into the kitchen and finished off her wine.
“Work?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Mine too,” I sighed.
We stared at each other for a moment, and I chuckled.
“What?” Bella asked.
“Look at us,” I said.
“What about us?”
“We both had shitty days, we’re both pissed off, and we’re standing in my kitchen drinking before dinner like we’re afraid to talk to each other,” I said.
“I’m not afraid to talk to you,” she said, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring some into her glass.
“Good, because neither am I. Dinner smells delicious. Is it ready?” I cautiously asked. “I only ask because I’m starving.”
“Yeah. It’s ready. Go sit down.”
She took down two plates from the cabinet and scooped some chicken pot pie onto them. I took it to the table, where a nice-looking salad sat in the middle and salad plates sat at each of our seats. I picked up my fork and dug right into the chicken pot pie.
“Jesus, Bella. This is phenomenal.”
“Thanks. I had to look up a recipe. I’ve never made chicken pot pie before.”
“Is this homemade crust?” I asked.
“Yes. I made it with my own two hands.” She softly smiled.
“Well, you’ve outdone yourself. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She picked up her fork. “What happened at work today that made it so shitty?”
“Tribeca,” I said.
“Huh?” Her brows furrowed.
“We need to sell fifty, maybe fifty-two units of Montclair Tribeca, and fast.”
“Ouch. That’s a lot of units.”
“Exactly.” I took another bite of my chicken pot pie.
“How many were you supposed to have sold by now?” she asked.
“All of them. We’re at a significant loss right now. The longer the units sit there, the more money we lose. And tomorrow, I get to spend a chunk of time I don’t have listening to people tell me everything we’re already doing isn’t working.”
“Can’t you spend more on advertising?” she asked.
“We already are. It’s not making a difference. Now, Marketing wants another three hundred thousand.”
“Dollars?” Her eyes widened.
“No, Bella. Jellybeans.”
She shot me the dirtiest look.
“I had a bad day, okay?” I said.
“So have I.”
“Apparently that means neither of us should be allowed to speak,” I said.
“That might be for the best.”
“At least there’s chicken pot pie.” I smiled.
“Keep it up, and there won’t be.” She pointed her fork at me.
I laughed, and she smiled.
“How is MDG presenting the building?” she asked.
“Let’s finish dinner first, and we’ll go into the living room, and I’ll show you.”
“Okay.”
“Talk to me about your shitty day,” I said.
“It was just work stuff.”
“I can relate,” I said, picking up my drink.
We made small talk during dinner. I wasn’t in as shitty a mood as I was when I stepped off the elevator. Being with Bella calmed me down. Seeing her and talking to her calmed me. It was a realization that hit me harder than anything else.