Page 66 of So Not My Type

She stepped out of the room and found George and Malcolm in a hushed conversation.

“Sophie.” George motioned her forward, and Malcolm stepped away. “Where’s Ella?”

This was why people don’t like workplace romances—because when something happens with the couple, the work suffers. Sophie refused to let this happen. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

George’s face dropped, and he reached for his phone.Shit.He was a dad with a medically compromised daughter, and no doubt his mind just went to a dark place.

She cleared her throat. “I mean… ah. Look, we had a fight. She was upset and left. But I would love to, um, not get into the details with you.”

His face lifted with relief. “Okay. Well, we need her here. You cannot run all of this on your own.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m calling her.”

Good luck. “I’ve got this. Really. Just in case she doesn’t answer or…”Just in case she never wants to see me again, just in case she quit, just in case Sophie unintentionally ruined the best relationship of her life.

George frowned into the phone and moved to text messaging as Sophie scooted back to her desk. Once there, she tried once more to call Ella. The call went straight to voicemail. She left a quick, hushed “please call me back” message, and used her last remaining seconds of the break to run to the bathroom, fill her water bottle, and scramble a text to Ella.

Sophie:

We need to talk. We cannot leave things like this, please. We’re adults and I know we can figure this out.

Her fingers hovered. Now was not the time to say what she wanted to say, to confess her deepest feelings, to share how much she’d fallen and that she saw a future with Ella. And maybe it was fast, and she wouldn’t be the first lesbian this side of the Pacific who U-Hauled. She poised her fingers, fumbling the rest of her message.

Sophie:

I don’t want to lose you.

TWENTY-SEVEN

SOPHIE

Maybe Ella’s lack of response since the blowup on the sidewalk was a blessing in disguise. Because for the last seventy-two hours, she hadn’t gotten home earlier than eleven. Last night she didn’t even have the energy to floss.

Seven days. They had exactly seven days left to execute a campaign. The team threw everything they could on the wall—changing graphics, updating copy, crying, swearing. Coffee overflowed along with a few frustrated tears, and everyone was exhausted.

Her heart hurt over Ella. But the ache started morphing from pain to anger, splashed with resentment. For someone who wassooosupportive of one-night hookups, creating an ad for herself to find a no-strings-attached relationship, and so open with her sexuality, Ella held that night against Sophie this much? It wasn’t like Sophie hadtriedto hurt Ella.

But her heart hurt for something else. Maybe it seemed ridiculous, but now that it was so close, she wanted this cruise so bad. She needed sleep and rest and to see the ocean. Her entire life, she’d dreamed about having a vacation like this, and dammit, she deserved it. She’d have to save up for a year to do this on her own and burn through a week of vacation time.Her dream was being flushed away because the team couldn’t generate some goddamn proper images of doughnuts. She dug her knuckle into her eye as her spirit cracked.

Unfair. Everything was unfair.

7:00 a.m. of the final forty-eight hours arrived early, but she was not the first one in the office. The design team were unloading their backpacks, all ponytails and sweatshirts and makeup free, looking like they’d barely showered.

Sophie grabbed her phone. One last-ditch effort before she’d be considered a full-on stalker.

Sophie:

Can we please talk?

Her breath hitched and stuck in her throat when she saw the bubbles arise.Thank God. Hopefully Ella could wait for a week, though. Right now, she didn’t have a free second.

Ella:

No

No?No?Was she actually serious right now? Sophie exhaled through her nose and pulled in two more cleansing breaths. Okay, enough. Later, they’d clear this mess. Right now, she couldn’t. The internal stress-level barometer reached a fever pitch. She missed Ella, and wanted to know her girlfriend was okay.

But another layer added to the stress. So much work surrounded her. She was getting lost in approvals and documents and asset refreshes and headlines, and she needed Ella to help manage the project.

Her lips trembled. This was all too much. Everything was too much. She slumped, and rested her head in her arms on herdesk. She wasn’t sure how long she lay like that, but the room increased in volume.

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