Page 303 of End Game

Chapter twenty-eight

Inspiration Granted

Cameron

The first person to make me cry for Valentine’s Day is Carter Larkspur.

Which feels unfair.

It is also February thirteenth.

So technically he is early.

“You’re looking at the wrong number,” he says through my laptop.

I blink at the spreadsheet on my second monitor. “I’m looking at all the numbers.”

“No. You’re looking at follower growth.”

“Because follower growth is good.”

“It is good.”

Alexis leans closer to the camera beside him. “She’s waiting for the but.”

“I can see the but coming.”

Carter points somewhere below his camera, presumably at the same report I have open. “But follower growth is the least interesting part.”

I curl my hands around my coffee mug.

This meeting has been on my calendar for three days.

Not because anything is wrong—Alexis told me repeatedly that nothing is wrong.

Which obviously meant my brain spent nine days trying to determine all the possible ways something could secretly be wrong.

Apparently imposter syndrome does not care that I have been doing some version of this work for years.

Freelance clients are different.

Freelance clients are usually one person telling me whether they liked the thing I made.

Laugherty has departments.

Reports.

Actual marketing people.

Carter fucking Larkspur.

And Alexis, who does this for a living at a level that makes my little creator business feel like selling friendship bracelets at recess.

Carter keeps going. “Organic reach is up significantly without a matching increase in posting volume.”

Okay.

“That’s what we wanted,” he adds.