Page 33 of A World Without You
I stare at it for a moment. Olivia Baker is written in gold lettering and underneath, Director of Marketing is printed in all caps. It isn’t your typical placard. It’s high quality, made with metal, not plastic, and with a fancy embellishment just under my title.
A smile traces my lips as I look at it. I feel so important—needed, wanted, respected. Things I haven’t felt in a very long time.
I even have an assistant. One who worries enough to order me extra breakfast and throw an extra shot of liquid energy into my Americano. All my self-confidence for this kind of atmosphere evaporated while I was in Roslyn. I think of the girl I was, and I want her back so I throw back my shoulders and smile, entering my office.
“Petra, I need you,” a young man with bright red hair and deep brown eyes says to the presumed assistant.
“Petra!” I exclaim, falling into my office chair with a spin. “That’s a fun name!”
The young man turns to me with wide and apologetic eyes. “Sorry, Ms. Baker, can I steal Petra for a moment?”
There’s a little fear in his eyes, and I withhold a laugh. “Not a problem...”
Again, I trail because I don’t know anyone’s name.
“Sean,” he answers with a breath.
“Good name,” I say, smiling, and he grins in response as if my simple compliment fueled his self-confidence.
Petra narrows her eyes on me. “Are you okay, Ms. Baker?”
“I’m great!” I answer, far too enthused for eight a.m. on a Monday, so I clear my throat and I remember who I am in this world. “Have her back by the meeting?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responds, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Don’t call me ma’am. Call me Olivia.” I offer a smile, and the breath he’s clearly holding in his chest exhales slowly.
“Really?” he asks.
I grin at him over the rim of my Americano. “Ma’am is reserved for librarians and the old ladies who need help loading their groceries in their hatchbacks.”
I sit in the black leather office chair, feeling the smooth swivel as I pull into the glass desktop with a white Mac on top. “I’m neither of those things yet. So, yes, just Olivia for the both of you.”
There’s a look of relief and shock on both of their faces, but they disappear down the hall before I can truly examine their expressions. But the first inkling I have is that I’m a bit of a bitch in this life.
I lean back and sip my Americano, letting out a low cackle. I kind of love it.
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FOR THE NEXT FEW HOURS, I scour over the notes the previously dream-like state of Olivia made for this extremely important meeting with Jansen Enterprises.
And I still know nothing.
Well, next to nothing. Jansen Enterprises is a highly sought-after, multi-million-dollar developer in the US and Canada. They have offered services for expansion and distribution for the ever-growing mom-and-pop shops and small businesses that sprouted during the year 2020 and beyond. They are high-quality manufacturers with an unlimited number of suppliers and warehouses, but their marketing sucks. They need someone like Bella Mae—or me—to reinvent their wheel and help them keep their foot in the door.
I couldn’t even keep a small press in the Cascades in business, but this is fine. Totally and completely fine. I can handle it. I have an office and placard and an assistant. I’m a boss bitch with a résumé and a degree.
But when Petra pokes her head in my office and asks, “Ready?” I almost cry.
I haven’t been this nervous since my sixth-grade best friend, Roxanne, convinced me to dance in the school talent show. NSYNC’s “Bye-Bye-Bye” never looked so uncoordinated.
“Do I have to?” I ask, and she smirks. Her smile is traced with understanding, amusement, and a hint of confusion.
“Are you serious?” she asks speculatively.
“I’m serious.”
Petra walks toward me, breathing in through her nostrils before she rests her hands on my desk. “I’m going to tell you what you told me on my first day of this job.”
