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She resembles everything I strive to be in an office instead of the hot mess I am today. I feel like a piece of wilted lettuce.
“Thank you,” I say weakly, pinning on a smile. “I’m okay, but I appreciate it.”
She smiles like she doesn’t believe that at all.
And she’s right. I’m so not okay.
“For the record, I’ve seen the photos,” Rebecca adds carefully. “It’s not all bad. Now the world knows about the sea otters. Oh, and I’m not sure anyone knew how much Mr. Foster loves his kayaking.”
The woman is a total cinnamon bun, sincere and sticky sweet.
This time, my smile feels slightly less painted on. “He’s great at it for sure, much better than me. The trip was my first real try at kayaking and he taught me a lot.”
She nods again. “You look exhausted, sweetie. Good luck with your presentation. You’ve got a few of us in your corner, no matter what. Carol wanted me to let you know she promised to strangle someone if they shoot you down.”
I snicker at the image. Relief flutters in my chest, too, knowing I still have her on my side.
“Thanks, Rebecca,” I say again and scurry back to my desk. When I stop by the water coolers briefly, three guys whistle, practically right in my direction before they turn back to each other and burst out laughing.
Idiot ass-clowns.
For a second, I toy with the thought of reporting them to Rebecca, but I can handle a few petty comments without tattling.
I shouldn’t care.
Shepherd wouldn’t.
Even with the Dumas thing, he seemed more concerned about how it would impact the company and the employees under his brand than his own credibility.
The man is a rock, strong and indifferent. I’m sure he’ll throw off the bad thoughts just like he does the ocean waves.
But the difference between us is that I’ve made a living out of what people think about me.
The fact that people trust me on social media makes a difference.
If that trust is shattered, I don’t have a brand anymore.
It’s hard to shake that mentality.
So I shut myself in my office and focus on finalizing my big presentation. Eventually, Mark sidles back in with a look of concern.
“Destiny, I saw the email,” he says. “How you holding up?”
Deep breath.
I so don’t need this today. But I also don’t want to be rude to one of the few people here who’s still trying to act human.
“Fine. About as well as you’d expect.”
“If you need anything, just shout,” he tells me.
God.
You know what I really need?
I need to stop feeling like I made Shepherd’s life worse.
I need to stop knowing that the world is always judging him for what they think he is, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
