Page 132 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

“I don’t deserve you,” I say once we’re facing the elevator together.

The doors open, and we step in.

“Just so long as you remember that, Alexander, we’ll be fine.”

She’s smiling, but I know the hurt I caused isn’t erased simply because I backed out of the management opportunity.

“I’ve done a lot of soul searching over the past two days,” I tell her.

She looks up at me, her brows raised and her eyes wide.

“I had a blind spot. More like full-blown blindness. When it comes to something I want, I tend to get tunnel vision. The prize is all I see.” I pause. “Was.Wasall I saw.”

The doors to the elevator open and we step out, Olivia’s fingers still interlaced with mine.

“So you’ve had a change of heart?” she asks with a note of teasing in her tone, but her face is very serious.

“I’d like to hope so. I told Darwin to promote you. Not because I pity you or want to give you a consolation prize. You earned that position. You’ve been here six years, working hard, proving yourself, satisfying clients, holding teams together, giving Barnes the reputation it has partly because of your excellent work. I just got here. Yes. I’ve been in line for a management position for years. That doesn’t mean this position is mine. It’s yours. I’m not in the running anymore. Darwin told me he thought you have what it takes to make an excellent manager.”

“Should we ride over to the deli together?” Olivia asks, neatly evading the topic.

I don’t tease her. I’m too afraid I’ll send her running. We’re making an attempt at healing, but our connection is still fragile.

“I’d love to drive you. Unless you want to drive,” I tell her.

“You drive.”

We walk toward my car.

“Did Darwin mention that he doesn’t want to lose me as a content creator? Did he mention me getting a raise?” Olivia asks me.

“He told me vaguely that he had a plan to compensate our salaries equally and that he had thoroughly considered who would be easier to replace at the content creation level.” I open Olivia’s door, and she slips past me, looking up into my eyes before she settles down into the seat.

I jog around the front of my car and climb into the driver’s seat. As soon as we’re on the street, I set my forearm on the console, my hand palm-up in invitation. She laces her fingers through mine again, and I smile over at her.

“It turns out I’m replaceable,” I say. “You, not so much.”

I mean that in the context of our workplace … but also between us. No one could ever take her place for me.

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“I’m just quoting our boss.”

“Well,” Olivia says, “I’m not sure I want the management position anymore.”

“Really? Why not?”

“I was up last night, thinking about everything. For one thing, I realized how strong you’d be as a manager. I know I could lead the marketing teams at Barnes. We’d approach the position differently, but we’d both bring strength and experience to our leadership.

“The thing is, I love content creation. I didn’t fully form that thought until I spoke with Darwin. At some point during my conversation with him today, I realized I don’t really want to give up content creation in exchange for overseeing whole projects and managing people.”

“Hmm.” I don’t know what to say, so I’m quiet.

“I wouldn’t mind occasionally leading a project or a team,” Olivia explains. “But I don’t know if I really thought clearly about what I have been gunning for. I wanted to move ahead—to grow to the next step. Management seemed to be the natural progression. When Darwin said he was going to give me a raise to stay where I was, I thought, ‘Why would I want to leave content creation if I’m going to make a manager’s salary?’”

I’m quiet.

“That was the first time I really acknowledged it wasn't a management position I wanted. I just want to continue to advance and grow.”

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