Page 102 of Some Like It Hot

And terrible.

What was I thinking? How am I supposed to get eight custom orders done on time? There’s no way.

This is great. This is great. Your business is growing. This is what you want.

I feel tears stinging the backs of my eyes and I take a deep breath.

This is what I want.

I just need to figure out how to manage these eight orders. Having three sketches of each of the eight, all eight started, and second guessing myself on every one of them is not it.

I’ll just?—

Suddenly I hear a pounding on my door and, “Elise! Baby! It’s Simon!”

My heart jumps into my throat and I drop everything I was holding.

“Just kick it down!”

That’s Aidan’s voice.

What the hell?

I frown at the door. “Just open it!” I yell. I’m sure it’s not locked. I just ran down to the bakery…

I frown.

I don’t remember the last time I actually went out or came in the door, to be honest. I usually lock it before bed, of course, but I slept only a couple of hours last night and that’s because I fell asleep on the floor, using one of the might-someday-be-a-dress piles of fabric as a pillow.

The door bursts open and Simon and Aidan storm inside.

“Elise!” Simon finds me amongst the explosion of fabric, sketch pad pages, and cardboard boxes my supplies have been delivered in. He comes straight for me, sinking to his knees and pulling me into his chest. “Jesus, are you alright?”

My nose is smashed against his shoulder and I’m suddenly wondering when I last brushed my teeth. “Yes. Mostly.”

He leans back, studying me. I look up over his shoulder to find Aidan glowering at me.

Glowering. Sweet, amazing Aidan.

“What?” I ask him. “What happened?”

“We were waiting for you at the hockey game,” Aidan says, his voice tight.

“What? Oh, my God!” My gaze flies to the wall clock. It’s eight-thirty on… I have no idea what day it is.

Well, obviously it’s Tuesday because I’m supposed to be at the hockey game. I know better than to think that these guys have the wrong day and somehow I’m right.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” Obviously, Aidan is angry. Which is fair. And I’m not surprised. This is what always happens. I’m shocked this hasn’t happened before now, to be honest. We’ve all been seeing each other for a few weeks and that I just now screwed up a date is a miracle.

“I just totally lost track of time.” I push Simon back and shove material, scissors, my sketch pad and pencils to the floor. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“We did,” Simon says. “Over and over.”

Fuck. Of course they did. I look around. I haven’t seen my phone in hours. Probably since yesterday. It’s here somewhere. I’m pretty sure. God knows how many calls and texts I’ve missed.

Fuck, what if some of them are from customers?

The idea of more customers dumps unwanted adrenaline into my system. I want more customers, but I swear if there’s one more order on my phone, I’m going to burst into tears. It’s too much all at once. I want steady orders. Orders I can keep up with. I want to feel like a badass boss, staying on top of things, and doing amazing work.

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