Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I found myself typing before I could think: All of this, Bear. I love my BFF. Heart emoji.
Two seconds later, a notification banner dropped to tell me Baird had liked my comment.
Then he responded. Love my BFF too.
I knew he meant it platonically, but it still made me feel all squishy again.
My phone beeped.
It was Baird.
U got my txts then …
My fingers flew over the screen.
We’re all good. People are creeps.
We won’t let them win.
Thanks for putting me to bed.
The dots popped up on the screen instantly. And then:
Anytime. Ur cute when u snore.
I made a noise of indignation.
I do not snore!
U do. It’s cute.
I do NOT.
OK. Whatever u say, babe.
I sent him the middle finger.
He sent back a crying-with-laughter.
Grinning, I got up to prepare for the day and the inevitable commentary from Becky’s peanut gallery.
I fought against the overwhelming urge to ask Becky why she was stalking me after she accosted me before I even got to my desk.
“I just wanted to say I’m so sorry about Baird. Men will be men, I suppose, and sometimes they need more than a pretty face. Hilary wants to see you in her office to make sure this awful revelation isn’t going to hurt the campaign.” Becky had given me big Bambi eyes filled with fake sympathy wrapped up in malice.
Instead of calling her out for her unkind “pretty face” comment, or calling her a stalker, I shrugged with a nonchalance I knew would annoy the absolute heck out of her. “There’s no issue. Baird and I are stronger than ever. Jealous people do destructive things. Don’t they?” I gave her a pointed look, and her fake sympathy slipped. I brushed past her, feeling like I was starting to win against her bullying.
I spent the next ten minutes reassuring my boss that all was good in the world of Maia and Baird.
However, at lunchtime, I broke my promise to myself that I wouldn’t check the comments. I found myself back on Baird’s post. Hundreds of people had liked my comment. And there were replies like, “Aw, she calls him Bear!” and “I want a love like yours!”
But there were also comments like, “You’re a bad feminist!” and “You should be ashamed of yourself for taking back a cheater!” and “As a woman, you should believe women.” Like Baird had committed some crime against a girl he hooked up with consensually at a party.
Seriously, the illogical, emotionally unintelligent crap people posted was exhausting.
It was like Baird knew I’d looked at the comments only for them to upset me because a text from him popped up on my phone.
We’re goin’ out 2nite. U, me, Callan, John, and Beth.
I quickly texted back:
Where?
A few seconds later he replied:
Niteclub. Blowin’ off steam/damage control.
I hadn’t been dancing in such a long time, and he was right. We needed to be seen together outside of the campaign.
Tell me where? When?
Pick u up at 8 pm.
I replied with a heart emoji and turned my phone on silent to get back into a work headspace. Yet, within minutes, I was striding out of my office and into our wardrobes where we kept all the new products we were still reviewing and all the products we’d already decided on. There was a dress on one of the rails I’d been eyeing for weeks.
It was a thin-strapped minidress with a slim A-line silhouette and a risqué side split. It contoured to the body and was handsewn with shimmering midnight-blue sequins. On the left side of the abdomen, the midnight blue was broken up with a gold sunburst and on the right side of the hem was a cascade of half-moons.
It was sexy and flirty and classy all at once, which was hard to pull off with a minidress. The one on our rails was my size. Kismet! Grabbing it, I hurried to Christina’s office and knocked on the door.
Upon entering, I held up the dress. “Baird and I are going out in public tonight to do damage control.”
“Yes, I saw that unfortunate video. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I replied honestly. “Baird didn’t cheat on me.”
My boss didn’t look so certain, but her gaze moved to the dress. “Well, that’s stunning.”
“Yes, and it’s up for preorder so it’s not available yet, but I need to look amazing tonight, and I wondered if I could buy this with my discount?”
“No.” Christina shook her head but with a small smile. “Take it. A gift from Pennington’s as part of the campaign.”
I gaped at her. The dress was worth seven hundred pounds. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. I assume we’ll see it all over social media tonight. Marketing can make up a post later tagging the designer and the link to the preorder. I’ll talk to Hilary.”
“Thank you, Christina.” I meant it in more ways than one.
She gave me a kind smile but then shooed me out. “Now go work.”