Page 90 of Hate Notes

As we walked to the meeting, I couldn't help thinking how far we'd come. The factory around us was transforming, becoming something new while honoring what it had been. Kind of like us, really.

"Stop smiling like that," Orion murmured.

"Like what?"

"Like you're thinking sentimental thoughts. It's distracting."

"You love it."

He didn't deny it.

The next fewweeks passed in a blur of meetings, planning sessions, and late nights at the office. Davenport insisted on being involved in every detail, though I noticed he scheduled an awful lot of meetings at Eleanor's house.

"For the duck ambiance," he claimed, but no one missed the way they looked at each other across conference tables.

Orion threw himself into the work with characteristic intensity, but something had shifted. He actually listened during meetings now, considered other perspectives. The fear that used to permeate the office had been replaced by something that felt almost like... respect.

"You know what's weird?" Julian said one evening as we were all working late. "I actually kind of like coming to work now."

"Careful," Roman warned. "He might hear you."

"I already did," Orion said, appearing in the doorway. But he was smiling—actually smiling—as he added, "And if any of you repeat that I smiled outside this office, I'll deny everything."

"There's the boss we know and fear," Julian said cheerfully.

I caught Orion's eye across the room, saw the warmth there that he no longer tried to hide. We still had our moments of friction—he was still Orion after all, and I was still me—but now they felt more like sparks than explosions.

"Speaking of our fearless leader," Monica stage-whispered, "when are you two going to make it official?"

"Make what official?" I asked innocently.

"Please," she scoffed. "The whole office has a betting pool on when he's going to propose."

I nearly choked on my coffee. "What?"

"I've got fifty on Christmas," Julian offered.

"A hundred on New Year's," Roman added without looking up.

"Better odds than Patricia Rosh got," Monica chimed in. "Did you hear what happened to Hate Notes?"

"No?" I perked up with interest.

"Apparently after Orion kept bribing away all her employees, she tried to pivot to 'Love Notes' instead. But the market for paying someone to deliver romantic messages isn't quite as robust as angry ones." Monica grinned. "Last I heard, she sold the company to some startup that's turning it into a singing telegram service."

"Complete with the red uniforms?" I asked.

"Of course. Though I hear they added sequins."

"An improvement," I decided, thinking of how far we'd all come from those morning confrontations on the steps.

“Maybe Orion could use them to propose now that they’ve changed their tune. A singing proposal!,” Julian mused with a smile. “Seems just like something Orion would do.”

“Hardly my style,” Orion said, but his words weren’t a denial that he was planning on proposing.

I nearly choked when I realized and tried to cover my surprise with a casual smile. “Yeah, Orion would probably send his proposal in a spreadsheet, or maybe a memo.”

Everybody laughed, but there was something mysterious in the smile Orion wore and the twinkle in his eyes—something that made my stomach do a few looping jumps.

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