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“I— I may have told Sartoria that the only way Stevenson would drop the lawsuit after that whole tariffs fuck up is if they hired you back.”
I gasp. “Are you serious?”
He nods. “I know it was super bad and manipulative, but I felt awful, and I couldn’t believe that something that had nothing to do with you ended up costing you your job. You didn’t deserve that. I knew you loved working there and were probably devastated about losing your job. I wanted it to be the last thing I got done before leaving my official post as CFO. It was manipulative and gross, but I figured you weren’t speaking to me anymore, so…” He shrugged. “I wanted to use my evil powers to make you happy, Bridge.”
For some reason, this makes me laugh. The thought of Sartoria’s corporate offices freaking out over having to find and rehire a fired assistant in order to avoid a lawsuit gives me more satisfaction than it should.
“My friend Molly mentioned being pulled into a meeting with HR to get me to come back. But they never called.”
He grins. “I know. When I saw you posted a photo on Instagram with the caption ‘First Day at new job!’ or something like that, I called it off. You looked really happy—happier than I ever saw you at Sartoria when things were still good.”
“Did you guys sue them?”
“Nah. We paid the fines and they covered the loss. Everything ended up okay. In that regard, I mean.”
I ignore that last comment when I suddenly realize something. “Wait, hold on. So you have an Instagram, now? I thought you were fully off socials.”
He looks like he extremely regrets telling me this. “It’s new. I don’t really post anything.”
“I haven’t seen any follow notifications in a while…”
“I don’t. Follow you, that is. If I did, I’d be stuck to my phone all day. But I do check up on you,” he explains. “I wasn’t trying to go all creepy stalker. But I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He pauses while I gawk at him. “And now that I hear myself say it out loud, I realize how creepy I sound.”
Surprising myself, I laugh once more. “A little bit. But kind of cute.”
Nowthatsurprises him.
“Do you like your new job?” he asks.
My smile is big and genuine. “Love it.”
“Good,” he says, smiling back.
“What about you? What are you going to do now that your time at Stevenson is done?”
“I’m not sure yet. But I look forward to finding out.”
I nod, loving this journey of self-exploration he’s embarked on. He deserves it, no matter what anyone says. Including himself.
Will looks at me with a wistful smile before speaking again. “Anyway, I guess I’ll leave these cookies here with you and—Wait, what are you doing?” he asks in a panic when he sees me carrying the box over to the kitchen counter.
“Opening the box, obviously.”
“Can you wait ’til I’m gone, please? It’s— They’re a little embarrassing. I don’t want you to think I’m crazy and?—”
“Not a chance.”
“Bridget,please. I don’t want?—”
But it’s too late. I pull the lid off and?—
I gasp, bringing my hands to my mouth.
Speechless. Utterly speechless.
Because the second I pop the lid open, I see the most gorgeous collection of iced cookies. I don’t know if I’m biased because of its designs, but I’m pretty sure this is the best Annie Rose has ever produced.
“Will, I…” I shake my head, in shock. “Are these…?”
