Page 1 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
Chapter 1
The day my promotion was stolen, I was supposed to be on vacation. I spent the morning decorating my cubicle as if sprucing up my workspace would compensate for losing the trip.
I replaced my mousepad, which looked to have survived Y2K, with a fresh find patterned in vibrant green banana leaves and dropped a collection of pens into a new holder—this one a golden pineapple.
I’d just finished hanging a group of hexagon tiles decorated with water-colored hibiscus when Anna waddled by my cubicle. She stopped to sniff audibly.
“What’s that smell?” she asked. “It’s so tropical.”
I inhaled deeply but couldn’t pick up the scent yet. “You and your superhuman pregnancy nose.” I gestured toward the parrot-shaped wallflower. “It’s coconut.”
“Wow. And I thought I was nesting.” She reached to examine my new dollar store pineapple pen holder, and her round-tight stomach brushed past me. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the vacation you should be taking right now, would it?”
My eyes flicked to my desk calendar. Though crossed out, the words Key West might as well have been a neon sign. I didn’t need to look at the itinerary to know that my sister and I had planned to go on a dolphin watch and snorkel cruise today. In an alternate universe, I was two pina coladas deep with Nemo and friends.
In this twisted timeline, a new company within our business went live five days ago, the swing of which hacked my trip like a guillotine. So, instead, I’d spend the day trudging through support tickets, and my sister Hailey was enjoying Florida with my replacement—a DJ she’d met at a wedding two months ago.
The timing had been romcom-level perfect for them. After I bailed on Hailey, she had the choice to cancel the trip altogether or go to Florida alone. Then she met Braxton, who was headed to Florida for a DJ gig. It was as if the universe had tilted the frame, knocking me from the picture to make room for Braxton, the DJ.
I stood so suddenly that I almost collided with Anna’s baby bump. “We’d better get going. Meeting is about to start.”
“That’s right,” Anna said as I folded my laptop. “Big announcement today. You ready to get that promotion?”
The promotion was only a slight step up. It’s not like I was going to be a supervisor or in any kind of management position. Still, I would have superiority when making decisions on projects, and, more importantly, I’d be making more money. I tamped the rising excitement.
“We don’t know if I’m getting it,” I said. “There are lots of deserving people on our team.”
Anna looked at me and snorted. “Who else on our team is senior-level material?”
“If you weren’t leaving, we wouldn’t have to worry about who will fill your position,” I deflected with a pouty lip.
I was mainly just teasing, but the pain rang true. I knew she’d make priceless memories—staying home when little Grace arrived, but a bitter taste always hit the back of my mouth when I pictured coming to the office and not having Anna to get me through the day.
“Exactly. You should be thanking me. My leaving is forcing management’s hand. Because God knows you would never risk rocking the boat by asking for something you deserve.” Anna lowered her voice as we neared the conference room, where most of our team already waited. She grabbed the box of donuts off the conference table and extended her arm. “Here, have one of these. It will make you feel better.”
I plucked a pink frosted sugar bomb from the offering and took a less-than-lady-like chunk out of it before greeting the rest of the team.
“Oh! I almost forgot.” Anna reached into her cardigan and pulled out a lavender sticky note. “Can you add Georgia to the mailing list for the baby shower? She’s my cousin. And I haven’t seen her in forever, but I know there will be drama if I don’t invite her.”
I laughed, mouth still full, and took the note from her. “Can’t have that.”
“Are you sure addressing the invites isn’t too much right now? Work is crazy.”
Understatement of the century. I kept promising myself I’d start on the envelopes, but the earliest I’d left last week was seven-thirty. And I’d been so exhausted that I’d flopped down on my couch, still fully clothed, and had fallen into a light coma. I’d woken in a cotton-mouthed panic to my alarm the next day—my phone barely hanging on at seven percent battery life.
If I waited until work slowed to get started on addressing the invitations, then I might as well forget the baby shower. Instead, I’d be addressing invitations for Grace’s first birthday party.
I could admit to Anna that work had me pulled tightly in too many directions. After all, I wasn’t letting her pay me for the service. She could find someone in time to get them done if she started looking now. But I didn’t want her to.
“I’ll find time,” I said as much to myself as to her.
Calligraphy was one of the few things I looked forward to. I needed to make time for the things I enjoyed.
Not long after we joined the team at the conference table, Wesley—our supervisor—strode in. Behind him was someone I didn’t know.
He looked about my age, so he was probably in his late twenties. Everyone in the conference room dressed professionally, but this guy looked sharp. His dress shirt had to be upwards of a thousand or so thread count. However, his wind-blown curls offset the crisp look.
“Thank you for waiting,” Wesley said, taking his place at the head of the table like the good papa he was. Good at delegating. Good at leaving before four-thirty every day. Good at taking credit for things he had little to do with. Good at making more than twice what I made, all for pointing his finger and continuing the patriarchy. “Everyone say hello to Beckett At—”
