Page 15 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
“I knew that would come back to haunt me,” he said, leaning against the wall of my cubicle. God, I hated how long and lean the action made him look.
“Come back to haunt you? I’ll be the one redefining attributes for a week. Minimum. On top of everything else I’m already doing.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t intentionally leave out your portion of the notes for that part of the meeting. But can you blame me? Your notes aren’t notes. They’re dissertations,” he said, thumbing through my pages from earlier as proof.
My jaw opened, then shut, then opened again. “I’m detail-oriented.”
“Then maybe you should be the one compiling the meeting minutes.”
“Because I’m detail-oriented, I shouldn’t be doing the meeting minutes. When I used to do them, I had to have everything perfectly aligned. It took me forever.” I scrunched my nose in mock sympathy. “Guess that’s the perks of being a senior-level associate.”
I turned back to my computer, ready to face the spreadsheets over another minute with Beck, but he hovered near the opening of the cubicle.
“Look, I really am sorry about screwing up with Frank. I made sure to add his changes to the new meeting notes. The newly defined attributes he requested are highlighted and bolded in case we need them next time.” I nodded but didn’t look back at him. “And I’ll help you with the reconfigurations, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. I have to go.”
My eyes darted to the time at the bottom of the screen. “Do you leave at four-thirty every Thursday?” I asked, turning back to face him.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you keeping tabs on me?”
My cheeks warmed. “I told you. I’m detail-oriented.”
Beck shrugged, stepping toward the exit. “I guess leaving early on Thursdays is just another perk of being a senior-level asshole.”
My mouth dropped open in horror.
Senior-level asshole.
He had overheard my conversation with Hailey.
Before I could do more than gape like a fish, he turned to go. “Night, Lane.”
I’d just flopped onto the couch to inhale a steaming bowl of beef instant ramen noodles, a great celebration dinner for finishing up the invitations for Anna’s baby shower, when I realized I had an unread message from Hailey. She’d sent it several hours ago.
Hailey: I have a bride who wants to meet next month. Have you thought about what I said? About taking over my business for a while?
Try on my life.
Her words echoed in my head: a sweet succulent dare out on a limb like a peach for the taking. But I couldn’t just try on her life. This wasn’t akin to squeezing my ass into her skinny jeans.
The idea was ridiculous.
And yet.
The possibilities rolled out in front of me. Days with the blinds open, the sun spilling onto my latest project. Listening to my favorite acoustic playlist while working my magic. Invitations dipped in gold foil. Envelopes sealed with wax. Names written on flower-embellished place cards. Menu items on glass in a flirtatious font.
It surprised me—how badly I wanted it. Maybe because I hadn’t given calligraphy as a side hustle any serious thought in years. Work was too busy to indulge in such fantasies. Besides, it was risky to start a business, let alone one considered a luxury service and, therefore, an unnecessary one.
Calligraphy added an elegant and personal touch, but when budgeting for an event gets tight, calligraphy is easily one of the first things to go. And, let’s be honest, if it were my wedding and I had to choose between pretty place cards and a three-tiered buttercream cake, buttercream would win every time.
Somehow, Hailey had managed to do it, started this business and found success, enough to make a living off her earnings.
I sent her a message back before I could chicken out.
Me: What platform do you use to keep in contact with clients?
Hailey: I created a Gmail just for Lettering Lane.
Next, she sent over the address and the password.
