Page 24 of Take It Offline

Would he? Unlikely.

In fact, the idea of Charlie agreeing with me aboutanythingis so comical I have to dig my nails into my thigh to stop myself from smiling.

“I would certainly hope he would have spoken to me about it if he didn’t.”

Home is a first-floor studio with a small bath and a sink that doubles as part of the “kitchen” (quotation marks necessary). The walls are thin, at least half the outlets are broken, and I’m woken up every day by angry truck drivers. It’s half the size of any guest room at my parents’ house, but it might as well be the penthouse suite at the Ritz, because it has one key feature I won’t ever give up…

It’s mine.

Well, technically it’s the landlord’s, but I pay for it with money I’veearned, not inherited, and to me, the distinction matters.

Ivy calls it my bachelorette pad. Logan called it quaint.

Honestly? It’s cold and has terrible water pressure, but it’s only a half-hour walk from the office. This little place is my sanctuary on days when I want to throw up my hands and quit.

Small spaces don’t need much to fill them, which is good, because I’ve spent the last five years selling off everything I can stand to part with to help cover what my parents owe. Everything bar my couch and a capsule wardrobe.

Maybe now I can finally start again, fill in the gaps with new memories.

If I survive this project.

ME: no promotion can be worth this

IVY: what the hell did i miss today?

ME: Roberts being Roberts and Charlie messing with my head. Today it was a gray worsted suit. With French cuffs. And a completely distracting red checkered tie. Can you believe that?

IVY: oh no (laughing emoji)

ME: It’s bad enough I have to see him every day. I miss cubicle walls

My phone lights up with Ivy’s call.

“No, you don’t,” she says before I can greet her. “You love the open plan office.”

I do. There’s so much more natural light.

“If it’s a choice between that and Charlie’s face, the decision is easy,” I say, reaching for another fry.

I don’t know if there’s an angel of food and beverage service, but the fast-food chain on the corner must be blessed. It’s the only church I’ve ever come close to walking into, and like a good charitable organization should be, it’s open twenty-four seven and no one is turned away.

Charlie might love his pies, but today, I need grease and salt.

Good days deserve good treats, like a glass of Pol Roger vintage Rosé and dark chocolate truffles. On bad days, it’s any pasta drowning in parmesan paired with my favorite tempranillo.

On truly awful days, like today, it’s a box of large fries dipped in a thick chocolate shake.

“Any news yet?” I ask, keen to think about anything that isn’t work. “Your sister must be exhausted.”

“The baby is as stubborn as she is. Pretty sure it’s karma, but I value my life too much to tell her that. Mom’s about five seconds away from storming the hospital, but Ciara will throw hands to keep her out of the delivery room, so I’m keeping the peace.”

“And we thought she was bad during the wedding.”

“That was a play date compared to this,” she says. “Also, stop changing the subject. You were waxing poetic about Charlie’s suits.”

My favorite topic of conversation.

“No matter how well he dresses, he’s still a demon.”

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