Page 16 of Untruly With You

There’s a big difference between an editor’s assistant and an assistant editor, and for a few minutes, I’m sure my eyes are betraying me. I read through the email four times over. Suddenly, I feel like someone has thrown me a lifeline amidst a sea of uncertainty.

8

LAINE

“I hopeyou bought those cowgirl boots.”

I sit up from my bed, my mouth popping open. “Are you toying with me right now?”

Sutton’s laugh is a delight, even when I can barely hear it over the sounds of the city backdropping our call. “Not this time.”

“What changed?”

“I got a job offer…”—he pauses for dramatic effect—“at Imagineer Books.” I can hear Sutton’s smile through the phone.

“You’re lying!Sutton, that’s amazing.” My grin is so wide it actually hurts. Even if Sutton thought it was a long shot to get his dream job right out of college, I never doubted him for a second. “I’m so proud of you! Everything is falling into place for us.”

“I can’t believe it. And…” He pauses, and I can picture him furrowing his brow as he thinks out what he’ll say next. “I figured if I can step forward in my professional life, maybe I can do the same in my personal life.”

I click the heels of my thrifted cowgirl boots together, like a western Dorothy. “Please tell me I get to come too.”

“Laine, I would be honored to have you join me as my fake girlfriend.”

“Hurry over so we can work out the details!”

“I’m already on my way,” he promises before hanging up.

First things first. I find Ophelia Brook’s contact information on my phone and text her.

How would you feel about a collection of articles painting the lives of a quaint Montana town?

She replies quickly.

Go for it. With your writing voice, you could do a piece on the invention of shoelaces, and I would love it.

My entire body feels the effects of the respite. After months of stress, I have my golden ticket. Go to Montana, write some stellar articles, get hired as a full-time journalist atWonderings, and help Sutton in the process. It’s foolproof. And when I am hired on, I’ll finally be able to prove to my parents—and to myself—that I can have a real career, a path.

Next up: find some way to keep Sutton riding this high wave.

I rifle through my dresser and find the most cowgirl thing I own to accompany my new (to me) boots. Luckily, I still have my cutoff denim shorts from freshman year. They’re two sizes too small now, but I squeeze into them, trying to ignore the way my love handles spill out over the top. It’s worth it for the bit. Next, I add a white eyelet lace tank top. To finish the look, I fish out my pink bedazzled cowgirl hat I wore to a Harry Styles concert years ago.

With a minute to spare, I pull up a classic country playlistfrom Spotify on the Bluetooth speaker. The song is unfamiliar to me, but it has a steel guitar and an opening line about a pickup truck, so I think it’s fitting enough.

I wait by the front door, opening it at the first knock by Sutton. He eyes me up and down, his smile erupting into a full laugh. I do a spin, kicking a leg up at the end to show off my boots. “Howdy,” I say with a twang in my voice, tipping the brim of my hat. “I’ll fit right in, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he says, wrapping an arm around me in a sideways hug that pleasantly surprises me.

“So, when will you officially become Mr. Cowboy-Slash-Editor?”

“Mr. Cowboy-Slash-Assistant-Editor.” He returns my grin. “I start in three weeks.”

I clasp my hands together under my chin. “Perfect timing with the wedding. And at your dream publisher. How do you feel?”

“Great. Anxious.”

“Sweatin’ like a whore in church?” I ask.

Sutton scoffs. “I don’t know if that’s something you’re allowed to say these days.”

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