Chapter 26

TWENTY-SIX

SOPHIE

Sophie thought Ella would follow her back to the office. Or at least hoped she’d follow her, but no. As Sophie rode the elevator solo to the top floor, she bit her shaky lips. Should she have followed Ella down the street? This was bad, so effing bad. But she thought after Malcolm called, Ella would push aside this terrible, awful, horrible moment and come back to the office to work on the campaign.

But Ella didn’t. She ran. Deserted Sophie, without letting Sophie speak, without a mention that they would talk later, without a hint that she was still her partner at work.

She was sick about this. She had no idea the woman from happy hour had been Jasmine. How could she? And what in God’s name were the chances? She would never sleep with someone who was in a relationship. Except that she had. But seriously, how the hell was she supposed to know?

No, no, no. This wasn’t really happening. All of this was some terrible nightmare, and she’d wake up in a second. Sophie chewed on her lip ring and watched the elevator floor numbers rise. Maybe Ella just needed to cool down. Surely, she would think logically about this situation, realize that Sophie had never meant to hurt her, and she would come to her senses. Because this, them… was not done. They had only just started and no way would Sophie let it slip away.

The elevator doors opened and even if Sophie wanted to wallow in the shithole of the last twenty minutes of her life, she didn’t have the luxury. The office energy mirrored the one on the sidewalk, but even more frantic. If that was possible.

As much as she didn’t want to, right now she had to push Ella out of her mind. “What the hell happened?” she called to Malcolm as she marched to her desk and flipped open the laptop.

“Can you gather everyone in the conference room in ten minutes?” He dug his phone from his pocket. “I’ll text George.”

“Got it.” Her fingers sped across the keyboard, adding names to a large group message.

“All hands on deck, Soph. Let the team know. We’re working through the weekend and might need to pull a few all-nighters if we have any hope of launching on time.” He was looking at his phone, his fingers tapping the screen at the same rate as his voice. “I’m grabbing the creative director from his three p.m. meeting, and I’ll see if George can get ahold of the VP.” He stuffed his phone and looked around. “Where’s Ella?”

Sophie swallowed. “She, um…” Christ. We had a fight and she took off, and I know it’s not cool, but it was a really big blow and… “She wasn’t feeling well. I got this.”

He nodded and stroked the dark hair on his beard as he left for the creatives’ desk.

Sophie blasted the message to everyone on the team: Urgent meeting in conference room G-1 . She grabbed her water bottle and ripped the laptop cord from the socket. After bolting to the conference room to set up, she pulled out her phone.

Sophie:

It’s super busy, but it doesn’t mean this isn’t important. We need to talk. Call you after work?

She stuffed the phone in her back pocket and poised her fingers as the team funneled into the room. Squeaky chairs, animated conversation, and opening laptops sounded until she got everyone’s attention. “What do we know? Did anyone speak to the client on why it was rejected? Is this something small and fixable? Talk to me. Ideas on how to make it right?”

“This is bullshit,” a designer yelled from the corner. “We followed their creative brief to the tee. They cannot come back, this late in the game, and say they want it re-done.”

Sophie agreed, but they didn’t have a second to indulge in the time-honored group bitching bonding moment. “Is anything salvageable?”

“Malcolm talked to the marketing director. He should know the full scoop,” an editor commented from the back.

Sophie glanced at her watch. “Okay, he’ll be here in a few minutes. He was going to text George and brief him.”

Murmurs surrounded her, some more frantic than others, with tones of how hard they worked.

“The timeline’s already too aggressive.”

“We just dumped weeks of work down the toilet. May as well throw the entire campaign out the window.”

“If we don’t hit this, then the team can’t go on the cruise.”

“Forget your cruise.”

Sophie’s head snapped to the angry voice. “Seriously?”

The designer stiffened. “Not everyone gets to go. In fact, I could go on about how unfair it was you all were chosen.”

“Don’t be a dick,” another designer chimed in. “Just ’cause they didn’t choose you doesn’t mean that the ones they did don’t deserve it.”

“So, you’re saying I don’t deserve it?”

“Are you saying I don’t, either?” The man’s tone snapped. “I wasn’t chosen, but I have personal integrity and want to see this executed cleanly and on time.”

“So now I don’t have personal integrity?”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t say?—”

“Enough!”

Sophie didn’t need to look to the doorway to know the booming voice belonged to George. The room settled like a dad just walked in and caught the kids fighting.

George stomped into the room. “Talking shit to one another stops right now. Capisce?”

Yikes.

George snugged his tie, then crossed his arms. “Now, someone tell me exactly what happened.”

Malcolm moved to the front of the room, bringing the kind, calm presence needed. He put his hands in the air like he was blocking the team from yelling. “All right, all. We need to take a breath. We’ve been under tight deadlines before, and I believe in all of you. But I’m gonna be real, here. We will need heads down, all hands on deck, laser focused if we have a chance to execute on time.” He grabbed the marker for the whiteboard and jotted down a number: 10 . “We have ten days to redo and launch. Ten. It’s not a lot of time?—”

“It’s no time!” the designer yelled from the back.

When Malcolm turned to face him, tossing him a look like “how dare you question me in my own home,” the designer shrunk. “It’s not a lot of time,” he repeated, “but I’ve seen you pull miracles before, and this is no different.”

Sophie took a deep breath. She believed in the team, but ten days? They spent a gazillion hours to reach where they were now. Malcolm was right, the team had performed some marketing miracles in the past. But ten days was impossible.

“Let’s go through the positives here.” Malcolm poised his marker over the whiteboard. “Legal has already been reviewed. As long as we stay within the realm of what we said before, a follow-up review will take less than an hour. Headline copy needs to be adjusted, but they approved the messaging on the lower hierarchy. The design, however, was totally rejected.”

“Cool.” A designer slumped back in her chair. “They rejected the most time-consuming thing.”

“Why does everyone think copy takes no time? I’m sick of everyone saying, ‘It’s just some copy,’ with a sense of ease, as if I pull words straight out my a— out of the air . Maybe design takes less time, huh? With AI now, it’s not like you’re creating anything original.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Guys!” Now it was Sophie’s turn to snap. “Come on! You all are the greatest team I could ever work with. Brilliant, all of you. And we’re a family, and families fight. But right now, we need to seriously cut the shit and put heads down.”

George gave her the slightest nod of approval. She looked at her watch and nearly choked. This meeting alone was cutting into valuable seconds that should be spent on recreating images.

“The backup files from the creative we rejected internally are attached to the project plan. Step one, retrieve.” Sophie continued and Malcolm scribbled on the whiteboard. “We’re going to follow standard rush-job protocol. Refresh current assets, pick the three top choices, war room mentality. I’m going to chat with the EA to bring in food and snacks. Design in room B-14, copy in B-25, legal will be on standby. Two team members will be responsible for coming up with something entirely new as an extra fail-safe. Directors, please choose your person and let me know.” She took a breath and glanced up at Malcolm, who motioned for her to continue. “One single source of truth. One . We can’t waste time bouncing back and forth, wondering which spreadsheet or person has the latest information. Everything runs through me, and I will update the project plan in the platform. Any questions?”

The room steadied, all shifting and groans hushed. She’d take that as a no.

George inched closer to the middle of the room. “Everyone, take ten minutes. Call your family to let them know you’re going to be late, and gather what you need. Sophie, let’s get some food delivered by six.” He turned to leave but paused in the doorway. “You guys can do this. I believe in this team.”

The room scattered. Some took out phones and talked in their chairs, some bolted from the room. Sophie gathered her items and glanced at her phone. God, she wanted to talk to Ella so bad. But right now was absolutely not the time to try and call.

She stepped out of the room and found George and Malcolm in a hushed conversation.

“Sophie.” George motioned her forward, and Malcolm stepped away. “Where’s Ella?”

This was why people don’t like workplace romances—because when something happens with the couple, the work suffers. Sophie refused to let this happen. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

George’s face dropped, and he reached for his phone. Shit. He was a dad with a medically compromised daughter, and no doubt his mind just went to a dark place.

She cleared her throat. “I mean… ah. Look, we had a fight. She was upset and left. But I would love to, um, not get into the details with you.”

His face lifted with relief. “Okay. Well, we need her here. You cannot run all of this on your own.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m calling her.”

Good luck . “I’ve got this. Really. Just in case she doesn’t answer or…” Just in case she never wants to see me again , just in case she quit, just in case Sophie unintentionally ruined the best relationship of her life.

George frowned into the phone and moved to text messaging as Sophie scooted back to her desk. Once there, she tried once more to call Ella. The call went straight to voicemail. She left a quick, hushed “please call me back” message, and used her last remaining seconds of the break to run to the bathroom, fill her water bottle, and scramble a text to Ella.

Sophie:

We need to talk. We cannot leave things like this, please. We’re adults and I know we can figure this out.

Her fingers hovered. Now was not the time to say what she wanted to say, to confess her deepest feelings, to share how much she’d fallen and that she saw a future with Ella. And maybe it was fast, and she wouldn’t be the first lesbian this side of the Pacific who U-Hauled. She poised her fingers, fumbling the rest of her message.

Sophie:

I don’t want to lose you.