Page 57 of More than Paper

My expression probably resembles the confused miens of my co-workers. Half Dick also likes to talk in code words.

“Let’s reiterate who is in charge of this ship. Quinn, who’s the boss?”

Oh God. Not again.

“You are, Mr. Atwood.”

“Congratulations. You know your place in this company. Lindsay will no longer be the Team manager. Quinn, since you seem to understand the hierarchy around here, you may take over her role.”

Team manager. Oh no. No, no, no!

“Sir, that’s very kind of you, but I don’t feel I’m qualified for that position.” Nor do I have any desire to be in management. And I don’t want to be reporting to Half Dick any more than I already have to.

“Rule number one, which you should already know, is not to argue. You will start your new role on Monday. The novel you are currently working on will be reassigned.”

“I’m not going to be allowed to edit anymore?”

“No. You will be leading your team and overseeing their work. Now, it’s Friday, and I have plans. I expect you all here on time come Monday morning. Quinn, I’ll email you your new compensation package.” Half Dick walks out as everyone stares at me.

Tim winces. “Congratulations?”

My other co-workers mumble the same with sympathetic expressions. I put my face on my arms, which are on the table.

I hear chairs moving, and Tim pats me on the back.

“Have a good weekend, Quinn.”

I don’t even look up and give him a wave. “See you Monday.” When I eventually look up, everyone is gone.

This is one of my worst employment nightmares. I do not have a management bone in my body.

I go to my office and grab my laptop and slide it into my bag. I put on my coat and make my way through the building.

This week has been a cluster of highs and lows. My brother and I haven’t spoken. He texted me he wanted to talk, but I ignored him.

I snort.My brother.He would be happy about this horrible promotion I’ve somehow “earned.”

The book I’ve been editing is with an egotistical author I want to kill. She’s not taking any of my suggestions and keeps putting comments on my edits that I must not get her story.No, it’s just not that good,I want to write. The fact she got a signing bonus even to write the story irks me. She’s nothing like Kim or the other authors I met in New York.

At least you don’t have to deal with her anymore.

Charlotte sounds depressed anytime I call her, and Piper can’t deny it, so I’m worried about her.

Jamison, besides the pain of missing him, has been my happiness this week. On Monday morning, I got a surprise delivery of pink roses with a note that he loved my book and wanted to read the next one. Part of me wondered if he was telling me that so I didn’t feel bad, but when I texted him to thank him for the flowers, he called me right away and went on and on about how awesome different parts of the book were.

Since he seemed to genuinely like it, I sent him book two. The next day I got another set of roses with a similar message, and he’s now read five books. Well, I’m not sure about the fifth book because today is the only day I haven’t gotten roses.

Hmm. Maybe that means he read it and didn’t like it?

I’m lost in thought, telling myself to chill out, that maybe he hasn’t read it and cursing myself for sending him any of my books because he probably didn’t like it, when I turn the corner of the lobby.

Jamison is standing outside the security area, wearing a black suit, holding a pink bouquet of roses, a big grin on his face.

Damn, he looks good in that suit.

My heart flutters. I run over to him and leap into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Kiss first. Talk later.”

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