Page 47 of Reconciling With the Rival

“Grant wanted me to. He also wanted me to tell you he made his own invites.”

“Okay…?” I question.

“Look, Ella, you’re the queen of hosting things. I think he really wanted your approval of how he did. This is all him, notme. So if you can call or text him and hype up his party-planning skills, I’m sure he would love it.”

I can only laugh. That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Not only do I pride myself on the events and parties I host, but it feels good someone else thinks I do okay at it. Grant never fails to make me feel better, and truth be told, he isn't bad at designing invitations at all. This one looks good. “I’ll call him later and let him know I love it.”

“Thank God,” Hads says. “He was nervous to send these out this morning. It’s all he talked about at breakfast. I love the man, don’t get me wrong, but he is taking this way too seriously.”

“Hads, not all of us hate our birthday like you and Oliver do,” I point out.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I have to go. I’ll see you at book club?”

“I’ll be there. I love you.”

“I love you too, Ells,” she says as she hangs up, and I hear my stomach growl. I didn't have time to grab something for breakfast this morning since Leo took so fucking long in the shower.

I get up from my desk and head to the kitchen, but not before I stop in Rae’s office. I knock twice on her already-open door, and she looks up from her desktop.

“Do you want coffee or a snack? I’m grabbing something from the kitchen.”

“How nice of you.” She smiles at me. “I’ll take a coffee, please.”

“Coming right up.”

“Two—”

I cut her off. “Two sugars and a cream. I know, babe.”

“I knew I loved you.”

I only smile as I head over to the kitchen. I was going to ask Adam if he wanted something when I passed his cubicle, but I forgot he’s out of the office with a client today.

I’m almost to the kitchen when I hear a bunch of voices drifting out of it. I recognize them—Brody, Leo, and all the other assholes in the office. They’re all standing around in the kitchen, talking about something. I’m not sure what, but when I hear my name brought up, I pause.

I stop just out of sight as I listen to what they’re saying. Normally, I’d walk in and say something, but I want to know what they're talking about.

“You’re competing with her on that one project, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Leo answers.

“You’ve got it in the bag, then,” Brody says to him. “Why do you think I got promoted over her? She’s been turning in mediocre work for months.”

“Yeah, I saw one of the campaigns she did for this one small business. It was average at best,” another asshole says.

Are you fucking kidding me? This cannot be happening. First of all, to be talking shit about me in the office we currently work at is highly unprofessional. Secondly, I only create what the brand wants from me, and they loved the campaign.

“Don’t even get me started on her side hustle,” some guy says.

“What?” Leo asks.

“You haven't seen her online profile? She does a bunch of marketing on the side for authors or whatever. It explains why she wants this project so bad. Though, with the shit she makes online, I doubt she’ll get it,” Brody says, and I think he smacks Leo or something. Maybe he’s giving him a pat on the back; you know, that thing assholes do to one another when they think they’re funny but aren't.

“Listen, mate, we work with her. Show some respect to your coworkers occasionally. Ella works hard—harder than you, even. If there’s one thing I admire about her, it’s her work ethic. I’ve never seen you stay later than three in the afternoon, Brody.”

Leo said that. Leo Zimmerman just stood up for me in front of a bunch of assholes trying to degrade me and my work.

He stood up for me not knowing I’m listening in around the corner.

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