Page 21 of The Back Forty
“Good.” He taps his pen once more and then glances back at the papers on his desk. “I have a stack of resumes from when we posted your job last summer. I dropped them off in your room. Do you need anything else to get started?”
I shake my head, even though I kind of want to stay in this strange little bubble that we’re in—late-night Lawson with his glasses on and his compliments flying like I didn’t have to pry them out of him with tweezers. The place where he refers to my bedroom at his houseasmy room.
But I know this version doesn’t last. It can’t last. So, I rise from the chair.
“If you need anything for your room, let me know,” he says, without looking up.
And that’s it. The bubble pops. The moment’s over. I close his office door gently behind me, heart thudding a little too fast as I head upstairs to my room.
Myroom, which feels more mine than it should—greets me with quiet and warm lamp light. I plug in my phone, grab my charger, and drop onto the bed, still reeling from my new title.
Then I open our group chat, the one that’s been going strong for months now with my four best friends in Whitewood Creek, who also happen to be Lawson’s sister-in-law’s, sister, and their childhood best friend.
Dani:Oh my god, y’all will never guess what just happened.
Rae:TELL US
Molly:What?!
Dani:Lawson just promoted me to VP OF SALES AND MARKETING
Regan:??
Dani:YOU KNEW?
Regan:Yes, he told me he was going to do it last night.
Dani:OMG and you didn’t tell me??
Regan:I knew he’d deliver the news horribly, and I wanted him to squirm while having to give you a compliment. Did you make him beg?
Dani:No, but maybe I should have.
Rae:That’s amazing!!! So well deserved.
Molly:Agreed. Seriously, you’ve crushed it this year. Colt—Mr. Man-of-Few-Words—won’t shut up about that interview you did about the whiskey in New York last week. Said it sounded like you were born and bred a Marshall.
I stare at the screen, chest warming, heart thudding, and brain still spinning from everything that just happened. From what he said. From the look in his eyes when he said it. But that’s not what has me reeling. It’s Molly’s casual words. Born and bred a Marshall, huh?
Dangerous territory, that thought.
My friends continue to compliment me and sing my praises through text, and it warms my heart. Those are my love language. Words. Affirmation. Telling me I’m doing a good job. That I matter. That what I’m pouring my whole heart into is noticed.
And I have poured myself into this job. Every pitch, every campaign, every late-night brainstorm while inhaling Beckham’s leftover pizza at the kitchen table and covering for Lawson when he’s on the road and needs someone to stay behind. Every hotel room prep to be sure Lawson was prepared for whatever next they’d swing his way, even the new ads that we’re running on TV for our eggs, it all came from me this year.
This last year has been a full-body deep dive into learning, adapting, pushing past burnout, and constantly trying to live up to Lawson’s impossibly high standards.
And I did. Hell, I crushed them. And I’m proud of that. I’m proud of me and how far I've come from the life and girl I was in California that I left behind. I check my phone again and type up a response.
Dani:Thanks, guys. Okay, one more thing. I need to hire a replacement for me.
Rae:Oh FUN. Can we help?
Molly:Yes. Let’s interview them. Definitely don’t want some weirdo lurking around the Marshall property with creepy vibes. I can run background checks at the precinct for free.
Dani:Honestly… that’s not a bad idea. I’m about to go through this stack of resumes Lawson left in my room. He said they were people who applied for the job before he hired me a year ago. I’ll see if any of them are still interested and make some calls tomorrow.
Rae:Wait. Hold up. He left them in your room?
