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Chapter 17

"Dash, I can't even pretend to find another one of your cups of coffee to be a kind gesture today," I muttered walking past him as I came out of the elevator. Slumping down at my assistants desk, I dramatically layed my head down on the desk, tired.

A moment later, Dash's head came into view, head tilted at an angle so he was looking me eye to eye. "Rough night?" he asked amused. "Another bad date?"

It had been a week filled with bad dates—terrible dates. Nothing like the one I had with Jake, but they were all boring or somewhat leery. It made me wonder where all the normal conversationalists had disappeared to.

Is there an island filled with all the amazing single conversationalists? Is this some kind of prank?

"Dating sucks," I muttered. "Why do people do it Dash?"

He leaned his head against the desk, keeping his eye-line parallel to mine. "Because at some point you find someone worth going through all the terrible dates for." He offered a small smile. "You'll see. Someone will be worth all the bad dates for."

I leaned up, placing my chin on my crossed arms. "That's weirdly romantic of you."

Dash sat down on top of my desk, criss crossing his legs, looking down at me without missing a beat. "I can be romantic."

"Suuuure."

"Okay, Work Wife. What do you consider to be romantic?"

Shoving curls out of my face I smiled to myself. "A long term commitment. Someone who takes you for all your good and bad."

Dash sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Well that's unfair. I can't do that."

I shot him an amused smile. "You can. You just haven't found your person yet. You'll see."

Dash looked away for a beat.

I sat up straight, gasping. "Wait... you have. Haven't you."

His face burned.

"Who!?!" I nearly screamed, excited.

"So, are you ready for Costa Rica?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Dash! Answer the question."

He turned to me, a warning on his face. "Not going to talk about it."

The sudden shift in his mood was surprising. "You okay?"

Sighing, Dash shrugged. "Yeah. Just... I don't want to talk about feelings stuff."

"And yet... you always want me to talk about feelings stuff," I pointed out.

"You are good with forever feelings stuff. I am.... not." He leaned forward, still sitting on my desk and booped me on the nose. "So please humor me and let me change the subject."

Ignoring his nose tap, I finally changed the subject. "I am nervous about the Costa Rica trip," I replied, letting him off the hook. "I'm worried I'm going to mess it up."

"You'll do great. The clothes are Allie's baby. She wouldn't just let anyone to babysit them."

"So I'm a glorified babysitter?"

Dash's eyes lit up, loving his own analogy. "Think about it! You make Boss Man and Boss Lady play nice, you have to keep everyone on task, like a teacher in a preschool classroom, and you have to teach the new guy who has zero coffee making skill to make coffee— like he's some toddler or something."

I groaned, throwing my hands over my mouth, eyes wide. "Oh my gosh... I am a glorified babysitter!"

Dash leaned toward me, eyes alight with mischief. "And with all the men you've been dating— who are apparently terrible, you can count that toward your babysitting hours too!"

Just then, Laurence Royal walked by and seemed to miss a step at Dash's loud, very strange sentence.

My face burned, my eyes going wide before I managed a glare at Dash, who began to shake with silent laughter as Laurence continued on to his office without a word.

"I am going to kill you!" I hissed. "Why did you say that?!?"

Dash glanced over my shoulder toward Laurence's office. "Because I wanted to see the look on his face. Did you see that? He nearly fell over."

"That's because you say everything like someone shouting into a megaphone." I slumped down in my chair, wanting to disappear. "Please don't make things weirder than they already are," I muttered.

Things on my desk were pushed aside as Dash slid to the other end of my desk and settled back down, face nearly level with mine as I continued to slouch in my seat. "UMMMM.... WHAT. Weird? What happened? Why weird? And notice that I am not using a shouty voice, Work Wife. I'm a fast learner."

Except for when it comes to coffee...

"Nothing happened."

"Then why'd you say weird?"

"He's always weird. I mean who isn't weird?" I asked far too quickly, speaking faster with each word, my voice pitched higher, like a video in fast forward. "You're weird. I'm weird. We are all weird really," I said, my face still red. "He just went out of his way to tell me he isn't a commitment guy. So just normal stuff... not weird. Just... whatever," I stammered.

Dash's smile faded. "Wait... he told you he doesn't do commitment?"

I looked away with a sharp nod.

"He took you out for coffee, and casually brought that up?"

I thought of Carter. Of how Laurence had built his life with no connections. Everything surface level.

Would he be different if Carter wasn't a factor, or is he just an excuse?

"It's... complicated."

Dash ran his fingers through his hair, sending strands standing up sporadically. "So you're going to just... let it go? And he weird around him now?"

"I've always been weird around him. And I never intended to pursue anything. So this doesn't change things." The words felt sharp, like shards of glass, painful to say.

But it was honest. And sometimes honesty hurt.

"I'm glad I'm going to Costa Rica soon. I just..." I sighed. "Want a break from bad dates and weird conversations."

"Plus they have amazing non Dash brewed coffee."

I smiled at him. "That too. I'm just hoping it's a week filled with no surprises."

"Maybe you'll fall in love while you're there?" Dash suggested with an eyebrow wiggle. "A beautiful paradise, serene beaches, humidity that makes wearing lots of clothes more of a suggestion than an obligation..." he smiled wickedly. "Anything can happen."

...

The roar of the waves worked in harmony with the pounding in my chest, a symphony that felt beautiful and daring as I stood on Flamingo Beach in Costa Rica, color coded binder gripped tightly in my hands, the sea breeze a cocktail of hot air sunshine and cool water mist, the wind making my 1920's flowing pleated skirt flap, carving across my body like a second skin. The sun had just begun to breathe across the horizon and the beach was alive with people setting up for our first day of shooting. 

I couldn't help the nearly manic smile that consumed my face as people changed, props were set and everyone moved around in the near dark, setting everything in motion. So far there had been no surprises. Everyone worked in perfect sync, taking my orders as law even though I had half expected them to question every word.

Allie had made it clear that my word was final on every aspect of the shoot, and wether my unquestioned authority was due to fear of Allie's retaliation, or was something earned, I was enjoying watching written plans bleed out into reality, the world around us being built up from ideas that had been scratched out on paper. 

The sky began to turn a deep pink, the sunrise nearly there. Crabs skittered along the sand, ducking under each new wave, and popping back out once the coast was clear. Anticipation filled the air as everyone moved into position. It was almost time for our photographer, Michale to start shooting, and the lighting was going to change fast, from moment to moment— a purposeful choice— one that told a story, but one that needed to be handled carefully or we'd have to do reshoots tomorrow. Something that we could handle budget wise, but something I was hoping to avoid. 

"Ready?" I called to Michale, who's fingers itched on the shutter button. 

He jumped into action, taking several test shots. Staring intently into the back of the camera screen, he furrowed his brow, grabbed someone who was holding a bounce to adjust the lighting, he moved their arms without a word and took several more test shots before seeming satisfied. 

"Ready."

Giving a sharp nod, Michale was off, looking like a horse bolting out of a the track gate, full of speed and precision as he shouted praises and commands at the models, working to get them to make the perfect expression and pose. 

He took thousands of photos at impossible speeds before glancing back at me. I stood further up the beach taking in the entire picture, his camera sending the images back to a larger screen where I stood with several others— called spotters— taking in the details. "The clothes look good," one of the spotters said. "There are some shadows on the second models face." "Ignore that image. There are better ones further along." 

Taking in their quick analytical discussion, I scanned the images, satisfied with the details and the amount of images we had to work with and gave Michale the signal to have the models move into the second set of poses. 

As everyone on the beach began to readjust the scene, I couldn't help but smile. It had taken time to work through my fears, and although there were still there in the back of my mind, I could finally admit that I loved my job. Loved it with every part of me. I loved being COO. I loved working with people. Keeping them on task. Taking creativity and bringing it to live. It was intoxicating, invigorating, perfection. 

The reality that this was my life made me feel like I had clutched a live wire. One that jolted me awake. It made me willing to fight for something new and wonderful. I was worth fighting for and my job was something I would fight to become better and better at because it was magical. 

I stared out across the beach, the lightening sky sending sparks of color across the ocean. 

Today is perfect. This is perfect. 

I had planned for everything. Every piece was in place. Every aspect had been taken into account, and there were no surprises—

My thoughts were shattered, crashing into the water like a person on a jet ski as someone new walked out onto the beach, his white button down shirt flapping in the same breeze I had been enjoying moments before, carving across him like a frame showcasing an alluring piece of art. He was perfection, black slacks almost strikingly casual on a man who I had only seen wear suits until that moment. Feet bare. Hair strands brushed back out of his face as the wind made her way through it. 

It felt like watching a scene straight out of a romance. The leading man walking across the beach at sunrise. It was like watching a less scandalous version of 'From Here to Eternity,' that involved zero kissing and a whole lotta staring at said beautiful leading man. I had to blink several times before my brain accepted that he was there. A fixture in what had a moment before been a perfect, unsurprising day. But now everything was unpredictable. Everything felt like a surprise both wanted and unwanted as two sets of feelings bubbled up inside of me. 

Laurence Royal walked toward me, making me question everything because he wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be in California, far away from me and my thoughts and now he had ruined my plans for both. 

---

Thank you for reading chapter seventeen! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes! Add this story to your reading list to know when the next chapter drops!

UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!

Why is Laurence in Costa Rica?

Will something happen between Laurence and Lily?

How will the rest of the shoot go?

CHAPTER QUESTION - If you could take pictures of any beautiful place in the world, where would it be?

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