Page 45 of The Love Rematch
“Sam!”
“How are you calling me? I thought you were on a communication blackout for another five weeks?”
“I am! I mean, I was. But wait, can you talk? I got too excited and totally forgot about the time difference. I can call back later or—”
“Emily Ann Peters, don’t you dare hang up that phone.”
“Aren’t you sleeping?”
Sam chuckles into the phone. “That’s cute that you think I sleep. No. I’m obviously at the office. I’ve been here since five in the morning and there is nothing I want to do more than take a break to talk to my sister before I’m forced to return to this absolutely fascinating and not at all mind-numbing financial model I’ve been working on for the past week.”
“Sounds…”
“Excruciating?”
Sam heaves a big sigh, and Emily smiles as she leans her head back against the wall. “You do remember you chose this profession, right?”
“I chose it for the mountains of cash I’ll be making in about ten years when I get promoted to Managing Director and have a team of minions working for me. Until then, it’s survival. Actually, speaking of business, don’t kill me.”
Emily frowns. “What?”
“Just remember, you voluntarily put me in charge of your Etsy shop while you’re away.”
“Sam—”
“And you love me.”
“Sam—”
“And you know I’m brilliant so obviously this is the absolute best decision anyone has ever made while temporarily running a startup jewelry line.”
“Spit it out, Sam.”
“Even with all the higher stock limits you implemented before going to California, your Etsy store is completely sold out—”
“WHAT?!”
“I know! So I decided to update your website to take direct orders, and I set up preorders for all the pieces I know aren’t made from one-of-a-kind stones. Then I blasted it through your social media, which is still absolutely bananas by the way, and voilà, you have two thousand orders on hold.”
“Two thousand orders…” Emily trails off into stunned silence. That’s more orders than she usually gets in a year, and the season hasn’t even started airing yet. They aren’t even done filming. Hell, they’ve barely started! Her throat feels tight, her chest hot. The bathroom is suddenly stifling. “I don’t think I can even fill that many orders.”
“So hire an assistant.”
“It’s not that easy,” she retorts, her mind already flooding with the what-ifs. What if she can’t fill the orders in time? What if she can’t train someone on her techniques? What if this all blows up in her face? What if she becomes a laughingstock? What if she fails? What if she’s simply not enough—not smart enough, not savvy enough, not strong enough to pull this off?
“Stop,” Sam interrupts.
“Stop what?”
“Stop spiraling. We’ll figure this out. I’ll help you. Take a moment to breathe, Em. This is your dream, and you’re really doing it. Be proud.”
“I am.”
“Good, because you should be. Now, tell me about the guys. How many have you kissed? How many have you sent home? Did anyone cry? Did anyone beg? God, I wish I was there.”
“Yes to the crying. No to the begging.”
“And the kissing?”
