Page 70 of So Not My Type

He nodded. “I’m really rooting for you two.”

Her heart pinched. She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a hug.

“Well then.” He patted her once on the back with a chuckle and took a step back. “I’ll double-check with HR that I don’t need to file a report for this.”

Once she was down the driveway and out of eyesight, tears fell. Maybe she and Ella would be okay. She at least had hope.

She glanced at her watch. It was after 8:00 a.m. and she was late. Did it really matter, though? They couldn’t finish the campaign. Not unless the mother of all agency Hail Mary passes landed in their inbox.

TWENTY-NINE

SOPHIE

At exactly 1:23 p.m., a potential Hail Mary was exactly what landed in Sophie’s inbox. Sophie’s stomach lurched into her throat when she saw the email from Ella. Subject:For you.

Her fingers raced to open the email and then paused.For you. NotI’m sorry, orHi, orLet’s talk. Nope, justFor you.

What if this was a resignation note? What if it was a breakup note? What if it was both?

She couldn’t read it. Not yet. Her palm whipped to the back of her head, and she rubbed her scalp like she was trying to release a genie. Looking around, she saw slanted frowns, creased foreheads, and people barking at each other. Her work family was being torn apart, her relationship was wobbly, everything was a jagged-edged rock. She was one hundred percent over it. Whatever this email contained, she had to deal with it.

A quick, shaky breath left her mouth, and she clicked open the email.

Sophie,

Show the team if you see fit.

Ella

The words lacked even a hint of emotion. Sophie read the email five different times, speaking it five different ways, and nothing. It was factual, brisk, to the point. No smiley face, no heart emoji, nothing.

She exhaled. Was this post-seizure talking? Was this a post-traumatic sidewalk event result? There was no way to know. Later, she could read it again and decipher. But for now, she tilted her head at the three attached images, and clicked open image one. “What in the…” Her heartbeat increased, slow and steady at first until it raced and thudded in her skull.

Before her was a graphic of a sexy angel with flowing red hair, reminiscent of an old pinup from the ’40s. She stood with a wink, biting into a glazed dripping doughnut. The image was fun and sexy, and hit on the key pieces of the creative brief.

Image two popped on the screen. A black-haired angel with a deep undercut, heavy emo-style makeup, and fire-red angel wings. She was lying on the floor on her belly, elbows propped up, blood-red fingernails gripping the doughnut. Sexy, edgy, smart—another requirement from the brief.

When she opened the third, it took all of five seconds for the image to register. Shaved head, lip ring, retro-rocker-style angel with fishnets, black fingernail polish, and a smirk rising at the corner of her lips. The angel held a glazed doughnut with the gum wall in the background.

She drew me?The picture was Sophie-esque. Her likeness at the very least. And the gum wall? Sophie’s heart lifted and dipped so many times she got dizzy.

Did this mean they were okay? Was this Ella just throwing some things out there for the team? At this point, thereasonsbehind the images didn’t matter.

She whipped the plug from her laptop and dashed across the floor. “Amanda!” she yelled to a senior project manager. “Favor. Can you grab the leads and have them meet me in G-1. Urgent!”

“On it. G-1’s booked, go to G-2,” Amanda called while her fingers flew across the keyboard.

Sophie’s eyes darted across the room. These graphics could work. Maybe. Ella was a painter, not a graphic designer. And these could be too artsy, but they differed from what the team had created, possibly in the right way. They could absolutely, maybe, dear sweet baby doughnut angels, be what the team needed.

“Erica!” She knocked on the window of a huddle room to grab a creative manager’s attention.“G-1—no, G-2—get your team, meet me there immediately. Please. Hot item just came in.”

“Absolutely.” Erica pulled out her cell phone and waved one of the leads her way.

Sophie’s feet barely touched the floor as she sprinted through the hall, grabbing anyone she could find who had worked on this campaign. She searched for Malcolm, who was not in his office, and swore louder than she meant. Her breath came out in spurts. Yes, she needed to exercise more, but as long as she didn’t pass out and waste any more time, she’d worry about cardio later.

“Malcolm!” she called out when she spotted him turn the corner.

“Hold up. Take a breath. I really do not want to perform mouth-to-mouth on you.” He shoved his cell in his pocket. “What’s going on?”

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