Chapter 4

FOUR

ELLA

Cashmere sweaters tickle. And not in the good way. The microscopic pieces imbedded into Ella’s skin. But the top looked cute, so the tradeoff was acceptable. Ella smoothed the neckline and clasped on a simple pearl strand. Pink was her color, her mother had told her on more than one occasion. And sure, it was risky to wear white pants in the spring, but there wasn’t supposed to be rain today.

Maybe cashmere was too much. The suit yesterday had definitely been too much. But she’d been so focused on learning all the tasks that she wasn’t sure what everyone else wore. Her father was old-school and wore a suit and tie almost every day. Surely cashmere was acceptable in the office? She bit her lip and swapped her pearls for a simple gold clasp.

She probably should’ve visited more over the years and gotten a feel for the office culture. But besides the fact she had a complicated relationship with her father, she rarely had time in between school and appointments. And after meeting snarky-ass Sophie all those years back, her desire to visit turned to nil.

Stepping past her easel with her latest work in progress, an ocean-at-dusk scene, she made a mental note to order more crimson, aquamarine, and yellow #5. She’d been too nervous this last week to work on the canvas, focusing instead on rereading old textbooks and conducting project-management internet searches. But hopefully this weekend she could buckle down for some serious self-soothing painting time.

The natural light bulbs on her chrome vanity illuminated her face and she stared. “Ugh.” She could just imagine what her mom would say. Reflected in the mirror was her lack of sleep, plagued by dreams of wandering an empty parking garage, frantically seeking an unlocked door. She dabbed extra concealer under her eyes and heated her iron.

Thirty minutes later, Ella spritzed on heat oil spray and flat ironed her bangs one last time, finally achieving optimal smoothness. After years of having long, bang-free hair, it took some getting used to this new shoulder-length blunt bob. She pushed her chunky frames up with her forefinger and made her way through hallway one, then hallway two. The only sounds around were the quiet buzz of the housekeepers starting their daily routine. The place was eerily quiet. She refused to look at any of the six-foot-tall paintings of Italian women that lined the burgundy walls. She swore their gaze followed her, judging her behind the frames. She loved art and painting, but these ones had freaked her out since she was little. Sometimes she had this tingling sensation that they, or something, were following her. She’d bolt down the hall, or run up the stairs, and slam her door shut.

The kitchen had a fresh bouquet in the middle of the marble center island. Her mother was a stickler for the arrangements, usually requiring a mix of colors and sizes. This arrangement was all pink Stargazer lilies. Beautiful, but hopefully none of the staff were on the receiving end of her mom’s disapproving frown and a passive-aggressive statement like, “It’s okay. You must not have been given the right instructions.”

“Umph.” Ella’s breath released as she opened the massive stainless-steel double-door fridge to grab a quick breakfast. Facing her was a lunch bag with a note.

Good luck on your first day! So proud of you.

Mom

Despite herself, she grinned. Although her mom most definitely had someone make whatever was inside, it really was thoughtful. Needing to bolt out of here before her mom returned from Pilates, Ella double-checked that her emergency nasal spray was in her purse, and that her smartwatch with the medical alert had a full charge.

Let’s do this . She texted Thomas, her driver, that she was ready to go.

Among a household of revolving-door staff where Ella long ago stopped trying to learn names, Thomas had been with her family since she could remember. He drove her family to doctor appointments, dinners, and random events. When she went to college, every day he dropped her off, then waited on a bench at the University of Washington’s Red Square, or a “within jogging distance” coffee shop. She hated it… until she didn’t. Especially after a particularly turbulent period during her sophomore year when she’d blink open her eyes to a sea of concerned bystanders, disorientated with a bloodied lip or nasty head bump. His face provided the comfort she needed to cut through a confusing blacking out.

When she was little, he seemed so old , like her parents. His blondish hair turned white in the summer, his cheeks were red like he carried a permanent sunburn. But over the last few years, she noticed the gray fanning his temples, the lines across his forehead deepening, the crinkling of his crow’s feet spreading.

“Good morning, Ella.” He held the door open, long ago swapping the “Ms. Northwood” for “Ella” after she told him it felt weird for him to address her that way. He’d smiled that day and said that was his way of showing respect. She remembered thinking it was a funny statement since she was only thirteen.

She slid into the back and set her bags on the floor. “Morning.”

That would be the extent of their conversation. Where her parents suffocated her daily with a blanket of questions, Thomas seemed to know during solo drives she needed time to rejuvenate in silence. She was never comfortable with small talk. Most any talk, really. During a high school junior year homeschooling class, she studied nature vs. nurture, and went to bed that entire week wondering if her aversion to eye contact and conversation was because she was born that way or was a product of her parents’ forced isolation.

The massive black SUV bumped over the gaping downtown Seattle potholes like the dips were pesky puddles. Each jerk made her want to lurch, and she exhaled through her nose, breathing in sets of four. She closed her eyes. I can do this. I can do this.

Social media. That will help. As Thomas weaved through rush-hour traffic, with coffee shops, pho restaurants, and tourist T-shirt shops selling cheap, yet expensive, souvenirs zooming by, she scrolled. A blur of images and faces and reels overtook her space when her breath hitched. Was that… No … Ella’s finger flew back until she confirmed what she saw. Jasmine . In a lip-locked, posed selfie with a mutual, the sun setting in the background creating the absolute perfect shadowed profiles.

Bet it took her an hour to pose. Whatever.

Ella enhanced the image. Was her ex really dating a former college-mate of Ella’s? Or did Jasmine snap this photo knowing Ella was linked with this woman on social media? Probably. The level of mind-fuckery that took place during their yearlong relationship could fill a book.

She shoved the phone back in her purse and stared out the window. Jasmine was the one who decided to bring someone else home that night, disregard her commitment to Ella, throw their relationship out the window like trash, like Ella was meaningless. The heartbreak was more than Ella ever thought possible. Her stomach knotted thinking of the night she discovered what Jasmine had done.

Gray clouds hovered, blanketing her in murkiness. Even with the windows closed, the damp, briny Puget Sound air filled the vehicle. She shivered against the luxury leather seat and snugged her jacket lapel. Seeing her ex was not the way she wanted to start her first day of work. She had to focus. Starting now, she would bring her A game every day until she could land a different job on her own.

The car eased into its double-parked position. She’d long ago accepted the fact that her family had a driver. But was it necessary to have a twelve-mile-a-gallon giant that was the least subtle car known to exist? She didn’t love the fact that five times out of ten when she stepped out, bystanders tossed disappointed glances. People probably hoped she was a celebrity. Or maybe they scowled because she was contributing to the ozone layer deterioration.

Thomas opened the door. “Happy first day.” He inched closer. “You’re going to do amazing.”

Those hushed words and the genuine tone delivering them was the boost she needed. She thanked him and pulled in a deep breath.

A hint of cherry blossom scent wafted to her nose from a budding tree. She stepped onto the sidewalk, careful not to slip with her low heels on cracked pavement. The last thing she needed was a nosedive on the sidewalk.

She tugged the strap of the luxury cross-body laptop bag her mother bought her and glanced up at the skyscraper that would be her home for the next few months. The career self-help book she read last week repeated in her mind. Look people in the eye, smile, firm handshake. I can do this. Her first real day of work, earning money that was actually hers. Her parents were staunch regurgitators of the phrase Just because we’re rich doesn’t mean you are . They aligned to the philosophy that they would never give her enough money to live on her own, otherwise she wouldn’t properly understand the value of a dollar. Which she called bullshit on as her mom handed out this lecture over the years while drinking from her heirloom teapot that cost more than most people’s weekly income. And she called double bullshit as her mother never worked a day in her life, after being handed down money from grandparents to parents to her. Ella knew in her core that withholding finances wasn’t only to teach ethics or fiscal responsibility. It was another way to tighten her golden handcuffs, which may have worked for a while. But she’d be damned to let them hold her hostage much longer.

A metro’s electric wires banged against its metal roof and the bus screeched to a high-pitched stop. And out popped Sophie, headphones wrapped around her buzzed head, rocking a retro ’80s punk-singer outfit with a skull-patterned skirt, backpack, and off-the-shoulder black shirt. Ugh. If Ella even attempted to pull off an outfit like that, she’d look ridiculous. Cool was never a word one would use to describe her. Not that she hadn’t tried. Two years ago, she made a nose-piercing appointment and freaked out when the guy approached her with forceps and a giant needle. And here, Sophie had her lip, nose, ear cartilage, probably even nipples pierced. Ella tapped her fingers on her neck and thanked herself for at least having the foresight to swap her strand of pearls this morning for the gold clasp.

A couple of cars honked behind Thomas and swerved, and the heat of a stare bored into her. She peeked at Sophie, who held an unreadable expression. Sophie’s gaze flicked between Ella and the monster SUV, her mouth twisted in an odd half smirk, half frown. Ella may not have decoded the expression, but her body did, and a sickly bubble rose in her chest.

Whatever. A lot of people had drivers, right? Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. Growing up, she hadn’t even questioned it. Only when she turned ten or eleven did she start to notice how different she looked from other kids tripping out of cars at the mall. The hot second she spent in a certain prep school in the greater Seattle area (yes, that one), she distinctly remembered a fleet of black SUV and sedans. Not all were parents dropping off kids. Right?

Sophie stomped over, thigh-high, thick black boots with buckles running down the side.

Cursing herself for forgetting to do one final lipstick-to-teeth mirror check, Ella ran her tongue over the ridges.

“Morning.” Sophie removed her headphones and hung them from her neck. “First day. You ready?”

Not even for a second. “Yes.” Ella held back a smile until she could verify MAC Ruby Woo lipstick hadn’t seeped onto her pearly whites.

The SUV pulled into traffic, and Sophie’s gaze followed it down the street. “Funny how vehicles like that think rules don’t apply to them and can double-park and hold up traffic.”

Vehicles like that. Ella’s face heated. It didn’t take a genius to catch what Sophie was throwing. Ella bristled and walked toward the large glass doors. “I’ve seen plenty of Uber and Lyft drivers doing the same.”

Sophie glared, and Ella felt a surge of satisfaction in seeing defeat.

Sophie stepped ahead and looped her backpack behind both arms. A large button pinned to the top featured a feminine flying superhero with a rainbow cape and the words Have no fear: I’m here and queer .

It wasn’t any of Ella’s business if Sophie was queer. And she didn’t appreciate the tiny tingle that manifested in her belly from knowing that information.

“After you.” Sophie held the door open.

Ella wondered if Sophie was being polite, or digging at her perceived princess-nature. Ella couldn’t help but sense it was a dig.

The building was too quiet, with only a few folks trickling through the lobby, sipping coffee with AirPods glued to their ears and faces buried in cells. Ella squared her shoulders and tried to ignore the amplified clacking of her heels against the waxed floor as she moved toward the elevator. She cleared her throat, part to mask the sound, part to rid herself of whatever tacky monstrosity was happening in the back of her throat, part to cut the thick tension lingering in the air.

Was Sophie nervous? Even a little? Ella shot a quick side-glance at her and… nope. Thumbs looped through the backpack straps. A foot tapping against the floor to whatever was still streaming through her headphones. Blinking up at the flashing floor numbers. She had no idea what a monumental moment this was.

In all fairness, Sophie couldn’t possibly know. That Ella being here, now, meant Ella was on the cusp of changing her life. That what happened that night with her parents might be worth it… The threats… the words she screamed… She shook her head. She refused to revisit that moment.

Her phone buzzed, and she swiped it open.

Reminder: Appointment at UW Med. 11:00 a.m.

Crap. How had she forgotten to cancel? She shoved the phone into her bag. No chance in hell she’d leave early on her first day and let Sophie think she was getting another favor.

“The facilities person should’ve set up your desk by mine.” Sophie stared ahead.

Was Sophie avoiding eye contact? Hard to tell. Maybe she wasn’t a morning person. Or maybe Ella should apologize for being a total shit yesterday.

The elevator door opened, and Ella followed Sophie. Tables with dangling cords and monitors sprawled before her. They rounded a corner to the “Creative Hub” space, with long working tables, empty rolling chairs, funky lamps, and strange bobbleheads strewn on the desks. Ella breathed through the belly knots at seeing her home for the next few months.

“You’ll be sitting right next to me until we get through this.” Sophie jerked her finger towards a vacant space next to Sophie’s with nothing but a monitor and docking station.

Sophie’s space wasn’t messy, per se. It felt more lived in. Seasoned, almost. The half wall had an oversized Sasquatch mug stuffed with pens and highlighters shoved up against it. A faded rainbow mouse pad held the mouse. Stacks of Post-it notepaper and several notepads scattered the desk. In the corner, a tiny-framed photo of Sophie, a pretty blond woman, and a kid.

Ella glanced at her own space. The area felt too sanitized, even a little sad. “Where will I sit after training?”

“No idea. Not up to me.”

Je-sus . It was not like she asked Sophie for her blood type. The snark was at skyscraper level, and it wasn’t even 7:30 yet.

“Gonna grab coffee.” Sophie walked away without an invitation for Ella to join. Not that she needed one. Ella was just fine sitting here in the creepy open space, with strange radiator sounds and the jarring electric buzz of fluorescent lighting, thank you very much. The second Sophie rounded the corner, Ella grabbed her purse mirror and checked her teeth.

Opening her laptop, she logged into the software she’d be using, and tried hard to remember all the passwords. Yesterday, the IT guy had put the fear of the technology god into her that she had to memorize her passwords, but she had multiple different logins on several platforms. She’d finally settled on “IcanDoThis#90days.” She wouldn’t forget that one.

“You getting all set up?” Sophie stirred the coffee, then chucked the stir stick into the wastebasket a good ten feet away.

“Impressive.”

Sophie’s lip bounced as she lifted the corner of her mouth. Oh boy. That mouth. How had Ella forgotten how pretty it was? Sophie had a pair of lips that people don’t normally forget. Maybe it was the ring accentuating the Cupid’s bow shape, the small gap in between her front teeth, the plump, nearly symmetrical top and bottom. Or maybe it was because Sophie was wearing gloss and the moisture drew Ella in. Or maybe Ella needed more than a yearly hookup and her body was making her very aware that her last hookup was almost twelve months ago.

“Today, we’ll develop a solid workback schedule.” Sophie flipped open the laptop and patted the space next to her.

Ella gave one firm nod. Exhale, inhale. I belong here as much as anyone else. She vowed to keep saying that to herself until the words sank in. Slipping into the chair near Sophie, Ella couldn’t help but indulge in the surprising scent drifting from Sophie’s skin. She thought Sophie would smell like leather and bourbon, but instead, coconut and vanilla wafted to her nose.

Thank God Ella remembered building several mock workback schedules during her final year in college. But just because she knew how to build a project plan backwards in school didn’t mean she had any idea how to do it in the real world.

“You want to take that one?” The keyboard clicked like gunfire under Sophie’s fingers.

Ella’s cheeks burned. “Oh, um…” This project management software looked totally different than the one she’d used in college, which was like a spreadsheet. As she frantically clicked the mouse, fancy colors, headings, and different navigation, fields blurred in front of her. She barely knew how to log into this platform, much less navigate to the right places.

Sophie glanced at Ella with a tilted head. “Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

Whew . The tightness in Ella’s chest released at the surprising kind words. Maybe Sophie wasn’t completely horrible.

“Sorry. I keep forgetting you’ve never worked before.”

And now her chest turned cold.

The next two hours muddled with content documentation, terminology, and training videos when Sophie’s phone rang, interrupting the tornado of information. She grabbed it on the second ring. “What’s up, kiddo? You good?”

Ella’s ears perked up at the gentleness. She tried to busy herself with reading asset-approval documentation, but the curiosity nipped.

“I mean, you called without texting first, so clearly I assumed that a demon crawled out from that sketchy-ass cellar in the basement and was dragging you by the ponytail down the hall, and this was my time to lecture you that if you’d just shave your head like me, then you could avoid these types of mishaps.” Sophie grinned, and several moments passed. “Okay, yes, for sure. I promise. I’ll be there.” She hung up and faced Ella. “Sorry about that.”

“Sister?” Ella asked, curious about what would soften Sophie like that in a snap.

Sophie exhaled. “Sort of? She’s my best friend’s younger sister, Harper. But we’re tight. I don’t have any siblings, so I kind of adopted her as my own.” She turned back to her laptop. “And by adopt, I mean I basically forced Harper to pretend she was my sister when we were growing up.”

A tenderness filled Ella with Sophie’s light chuckle.

Sophie peeked at Ella with the corner of her eye. “You have any siblings?”

I wish . For so many years Ella wished for a sibling. When she was younger, she tried everything to will it to happen—squinting as hard as she could at the stars and crossing her fingers while begging, throwing coins into each one of their four Greek god stone water fountains on their property, rubbing a crystal rock her aunt gave her. Friends were minimal, she had no close cousins, and she just knew if she had a sibling, she wouldn’t always feel like this . Lost, or wondering if the thoughts in her head were healthy, or wondering if her parents were terrible or good. She’d have someone to play with besides a nanny or her mom.

Ella rolled her lips into her mouth. “No,” she finally said.

A slight tilt of the head, and Sophie cleared her throat. “All right, launch date is May 15th. That’s exactly…” She counted on the calendar on her computer. “… thirty-eight business days from now. Although we’ll probably end up working some weekends, so let’s say forty.”

If Ella didn’t know any better, she’d swear Sophie’s tone softened.

Ella poised her fingers above the keyboard, clicking at a furious rate as Sophie rattled off information about buffering in a week in case leaders went off in a different creative direction, talking about aligning on the vision, and building strategy. “And we always, always need to do a final handoff to the legal department, no matter what.”

“Got it.” Don’t got it. Don’t got it.

The room spun as Sophie kept talking. Ella’s fingers couldn’t keep up. Her mouth grew dry, her lower back beaded with sweat. “Wait. I thought the leadership approvals had to be done before creative approvals.”

Sophie returned a deadpan stare.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ella swallowed. “No, sorry. I just misspoke.”

The screen popped up an error message and Ella froze. Did she press a wrong button? As Sophie continued talking, Ella pounded on the delete button. Nothing. Come on! Why wasn’t it working? Sophie’s going to think she was an idiot. Multiple mouse clicks and hitting escape like a lunatic did nothing. Her pulse thumped in her throat. She hooked a finger in her collar, pulling away the fibers sticking to her neck.

Her arm flung out to grab the reusable water bottle, but instead knocked it over, the metal clanking with a shriek against the desk. “Shit! Sorry.” She swiped it up, fumbled her grip, and breathed out a prayer of thanks she had kept the top covered.

A gentle hand rested on hers. “Breathe, okay?” Sophie’s eyes softened as she stared at the red error message of death on Ella’s computer. She sighed and leaned forward. Her sweater dipped, exposing a rounded, creamy shoulder with a constellation of freckles on the upper arm, and a hint of a racerback lace bra.

Ella averted her gaze.

“This program can be super finicky,” Sophie said. “It’s not your fault. Go back to the home screen.”

Ella slunk back into her chair, the thudding pulse lowering. “Thank you.”

Sophie returned to slapping at the keyboard. “Once we get set up, we’ll set a kickoff meeting…”

Soon, people began funneling through the office doors. Chatter and key taps thundered in the air. Ella took notes and updated a timeline using Sophie’s guidelines on time buffering when the large corner doors swung open, ricocheting into the wall with a thud.

“Teamwork makes the dream work!” Her dad’s booming voice filled the space how only it could.

Ella rolled her eyes.

His slicked-back, pomaded, thinning black hair bounced with each heavy stomp. Pulling his lips back for a wide, toothy grin, he patted a guy on the back, tipped a phantom hat at a woman in the corner, and smacked his palms together with a piercing pop. “How’s it going, you two?”

God, he’s loud.

Ella bristled and avoided Sophie’s gaze. It was inevitable, of course. She worked at her father’s company. Everyone here surely knew this was her dad, but they didn’t need a constant reminder. She may not have landed this job on her own, but she was damn grateful for the opportunity and determined to bust her butt to prove she earned her place. A terrible memory of her in a dance troupe class when she was ten flashed into her mind. She’d thought she was a good ballerina, great even. Her mom had told her a million times and cheered the loudest at rehearsals. But behind the backstage velvet curtains, she’d heard the dance instructor say, “We know Ella’s not gifted like the other students, but her parents are huge donors, so…”

Fourteen years later, the words still scarred.

“Sophie, this isn’t high school, you know. Hazing is totally legal and encouraged for new hires.” Her dad laughed with a sharp crack, and nudged Sophie with an elbow. “You can take it. Right, El?”

Ella wanted to crawl in a hole. No, a crater. No, she wanted to catapult to the deepest, darkest part of the solar system. She needed to hide from whatever the hell look was on Sophie’s face, with her lips pulled tight into her mouth. She was either trying not to laugh or seriously annoyed, and neither one was great for Ella.

“Sure can.” Ella smoothed out the top of her sleeves. Like it or not, her dad was her boss. She had to play the subservient employee-daughter game for just a few months. Then she could break free. Run like she was being chased, strip off the shackles that had been on her since birth.

“So, we are, um, just locking things down here, Da—” She was this close to saying Dad , but sucked back the words. “Did you need something?”

Her dad smiled. “Nope, just making sure you’re putting your best foot forward. Don’t try to boil the ocean on day one.” He pivoted on his freshly shined loafers.

Someone she didn’t recognize muttered, “ Bingo .”

Sophie coughed through a grin and turned back to her computer screen.

An hour shy of lunchtime, Sophie rose from her chair and rolled it under her desk. “Follow me.”

Oh, thank God . As invigorating as it was being in the trenches, Ella needed a brain break. She trailed Sophie, pulling back her shoulders as Sophie led her past several glass-encased rooms. They stepped into a large, stark-white conference room where a smattering of folks huddled around a table. Besides a whiteboard wall and an impressive array of markers, the room was totally barren.

“Hey, everyone.” Sophie’s smile turned warm and genuine, and Ella wasn’t sure why that bothered her. “Thanks so much for being here. Super-quick pre-kickoff meeting to let you know what’s ahead. We all got the timing for the new project. It’s okay, let it out, we can collectively groan now.”

A couple people did actually groan, and Sophie chuckled. “Now that we have that out of the way…”

Sophie was 5’2” at very most. But in this moment, as she rattled off the project’s needs, timelines and expectations, she seemed a million feet tall. All eyes focused on her, furrowed brows and wicked fingers transcribing her words. Ella studied her, absorbed by what made this team respond to Sophie this way, made them lean forward in silence like they were afraid of missing anything she may utter. She was confident, yes, but her shoulders weren’t tight the way Ella’s mom told her to show self-assuredness. Sophie looked comfortable, at ease, even, like she was rattling off a menu at a pub.

Would anyone ever see Ella that way? Or was she destined to live a purgatorial life, always looked at as someone who received without earning?

“And… as I’m sure you all know we have a newbie in the house.” Sophie motioned toward Ella. “Everyone welcome Ella Northwood to the team.”

A half wave was all Ella could muster at the sea of faces. She stared directly above everyone’s heads to avoid collapsing on the spot from the invasive stares.

“Northwood like George?” some guy in a hoodie, who looked like he smelled like a gamer in a basement, called out from the back. Nearly everyone in the room threw him a distinct duh look. Either he missed the memo, or he was an ass for pointing it out.

“Yep, boss’s daughter, so everyone be nice,” Sophie said, her tone flat.

Ella’s chest burned. At this agency, she’d never be anything other than her father’s daughter. To the rest of the world, she’d never be more than her mother’s daughter, reaping the benefits of generational wealth. She had no merit. Her only clout was her last name. All eyes focused on her, measuring her, probably staggering through a laundry list of reasons why they had to accommodate her.

Maybe Sophie meant to call out the elephant in the room. Or maybe she’d meant to humiliate her. Ella ignored her dampening pits and forced her lips to twitch into a grin.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sophie wrapped up the meeting half an hour later. “Get your manis, pedis, and Reiki sessions in now while you still have a chance. It’s going to be a crunch once strategy comes in.”

The team scattered as quickly as they arrived, and Ella followed Sophie back to the desk. An anxious pit developed in Ella’s stomach, and no matter how much she tried to force it, her head refused to hold high.

Instant messaging, a trip to the IT department, and reviewing archived creative filled the next couple of hours. Ella’s stomach bellowed with a fury, and she peeked to see if Sophie noticed. Sophie’s eyes remained focused on her screen, minus the few smiles she directed at everyone but Ella.

Seriously, what was Sophie’s problem, anyway? She was the rude one. Ella had only ever acted in defense. Never the aggressor.

Sophie snapped her laptop shut and rolled her chair away from the desk. “I’m starving. Gonna grab some lunch.”

Ella checked her watch. “How long do we get for lunch?”

Sophie’s irritated stare was like Ella asked her how much she weighed. “We’re adults and treated as such. Take whatever you need.”

Seriously? Did every single word she muttered need to be done with such annoyance? Sophie spun on her chunky boots and speed-walked across the room.

Ella beelined it for the bathroom to fan her face and remove sticky cashmere threads from her chest and Sophie’s coconut vanilla scent from her mind.

That was it. Tomorrow, cotton only.