Page 61 of Taking A Chance

“Okay, let’s get on the phone with the vendor and tell them to replace them,” I say. “And tell them we want them expedited at no extra cost, since I assume this is their fuckup.”

“It is,” Claire says. “I’ve been on the phone with them all day. They can’t expedite a new batch until Monday and these are due to Mr. Briggs by Friday. We can’t be late on our first deadline with him.”

She’s right, too. That doesn’t exactly screamprofessionaland I refuse to even call him and explain the situation. Though I’m sure he’d be understanding, I won’t even broach the topic. This is not the way we operate.

“Sara,” I turn in her direction as she joins the conversation, “get on the phone with every vendor we work with and explain the situation to see if we can get the right samples here by Thursday to deliver on Friday,” I say. “Claire, get back on the phone with the original vendor. Tell them Monday is unacceptable and that we need another vendor to do it this time. And tell them we want a refund for this order.”

Both women nod along, agreeing with the plan for a path forward. Getting this resolved today is the key to my weekend plans, or rather, making sure I still have weekend plans. I will not disappoint a client or ruin my own damn weekend over a vendor screwup.

The two women depart as I sink down into my chair for the first time, inhaling deeply. It’s times like this I wish I had a healthy habit like meditation. I’m sure that shit helps people. I’ve even tried it a few times, but I just end up staring blankly as thoughts race through my mind and I don’t think that’s the point of the exercise. So I gave up after three sessions.

My inbox shows sixty-three new emails since yesterday.Sixty-three.After contemplating a quick cry in the bathroom, I calm myself, determined to focus. Of course, that only lasts two emails in, and then my phone buzzes, alerting me of a text.

Declan:I miss you already.

My stupid ass grins down at my phone like I just won the lottery. In some ways, maybe I have. Hey, I suffered through nearly sixty shitty dates to get here. I’m not going to deprive myself of the simple joys in having a boyfriend.Boyfriend. Wow.The label still shocks me.

Me:I miss you too. But you’re distracting me.

Declan:From?

Me:Work. If I want to take off Friday, I have to be a grownup.

Declan:You’re right. I’ll leave you alone. Got packing to do anyway.

Declan:But there’s something first.

Me:What?

Declan:Any minute now.

The office door opens, catching my attention. A younger man—maybe college age—steps inside, flowers in hand.

“Delivery for Cora Reed?” he calls out to the room.

Setting my phone down, I stand and walk over to him, signing a screen and taking the vase from him. Fresh pink peonies sit inside a clear glass vase, a small white card tied to the base with black ribbon.

Back at my desk, I place the flowers in the corner, untying the delicate ribbon and pulling the card off.

Hope you have a great day,

even if it isn’t spent lying next to me.

Love, Declan

I’m smiling like an idiot again, so wide I’m convinced I might chap my lips if I don’t stop. He’s too much. And he used the wordlove.

Love. Whoa.

I shoot him a quick thank you text, just as Claire walks back over.

“Are these from the boyfriend?” she asks, wagging her eyebrows. She calls himthe boyfriendnow. That’s his official title here in the office.

I roll my eyes at her. Hearing her say the word sounds so insane to me. “Yes,” I say, pressing my lips together to contain my stupid smile.

“Things are getting pretty serious, huh?” she asks.

“We’re going away this weekend,” I say. “I won’t be here Friday.”

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