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A few minutes?What was Jamie doing here? Wasn’t she supposed to be looking after Cassie and Kyle while she waited for her friend to come home from work? I had a feeling of foreboding as the clock ticked by, and eventually, I heard footsteps coming from outside the corridor to my office.
There was a knock on the door, but before I could even stand up to let her in, Jamie burst through the door. Her brown hair was tossed over her shoulders, and there was panic in her eyes as she stepped into the office.
“Jamie?” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“There’s a problem,” she said quickly.
“What kind of problem?”
“I made a mistake,” she said.
“What kind of mistake?” I clenched my fists and felt dread weighing down my stomach. Whatever it was, if Jamie had just driven here straight from her house at this time of night, I knew it must be important.
I stood up from behind my desk and crossed the room until I was standing next to her. I could see Jamie’s shoulders were heaving, and her breathing quickened. I felt concerned.
“Come on,” I said. “Whatever it is, I know we can work it out together.” As I got her settled into a chair, I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
Jamie looked up at me, her eyes a little moist with the beginnings of tears. I dropped to one knee and looked her in the eye.
“Jamie,” I said. “Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.”
“You remember the photo?” I said. “Of me wearing the ring? The one you said to post to the official account.”
I nodded. How could I forget? The sight of the beautiful diamond ring on Jamie’s finger had shaken me to my core and filled my head with all kinds of romantic notions.
“What is it?” I said.
“Well, I posted it, and tagged you in it, but—”
“But what?” I said, cocking my head.
“—I posted it to my account.”
“To your--?”
“My account, Eric. My personal account. Look.”
Jamie lifted the phone, and I stared at it. On the screen, I could see her Instagram page. And then, I saw it.
The photo of Jamie’s hand, wearing the wedding ring.Celebrating the perfect day with #SladeDiamonds. She’d tagged my social media profile.
“Two hundred thousand likes?” I said, taking the phone from her hand and looking at it.
Now, the whole world thought we were engaged.
“Okay,” I said, putting the phone back into her trembling palm. I put one hand on her shoulder. “Look at me,” I said, my voice deep, designed to snap her out of the panic she must be feeling.
“Eric, wedding planners are calling the house. My college roommate just called me to tell me she’s happy for us. I’ve screwed up—so badly,” said Jamie, illustrating the size of the screw-up with her hands.
I sighed and looked down. “It’s fine,” I said. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. Delete the picture.”
“But—”
“Just delete it, Jamie. This is like any normal PR crisis. I’ve dealt with plenty of them and I’m sure you have too.”
This explained why I’d been getting so many calls that day, and why my social media was blowing up. All the thousands of employees at the hundreds of companies I worked with, the entire business world that knew me, friends, colleagues, everyone. They all thought I’d just gotten engaged.
To my best friend’s daughter. To the mother of my secret child. As I retreated from Jamie and watched her delete the picture, I slunk into my chair, my heart rate rising.
