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“It seems you’ve made quite the impression on Hawthorne,” she says quietly, voice too low for anyone else to hear but me.
I nod, trying to keep my expression as neutral as possible. “It’s been a long three months.”
“Hm. Well, let’s see if you can keep this up with The Pevensey.”
Irritation flares through me. Is it really so hard to just give me a compliment? To tell me I’ve done a good job and letmereap the praise just this once?
She turns away from me as Finn raises a glass.
“Now, if you’d all join me in a toast as we officially celebrate the launch of the London location of The August Room.”
I don’t have a glass, but I tip my head in his direction as everyone else cheers or yells some form of congratulation.
“To The August Room!”
“Congratulations!”
But not Finn.
Even from across the room, I can see the way his lips move as he tilts his glass toward me and mouths, “To Amber.”
22
AMBER
It’s long gonemidnight by the time the party starts to fizzle out. I don’t get the chance to talk to Finn again; he’s too busy being swarmed by hordes of people all eager for him to know their names. He’s been talking about this launch for months, making it seem like an actual party, but really it’s just an overdressed networking event and it’sexhausting.
I know Cynthia would like me to be working the crowd, handing out my business card to anyone who seems like they might have a need for some design services, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
I sneak back up to the fourth floor and spend the rest of the evening alone as I wait for Finn. I don’t mind it; the time alone gives me the chance to think about what I’m doing here and my future with Cynthia.
I meant it when I told Finn that I was tired of feeling terrible. It’s been two weeks since I last spoke to my mother and while not being able to see Noah hasn’t been ideal, the lift in my mood has been unmistakable. I don’t feel a sense of dread and anxiety when I stick my keys in the door tomyhome. I may have minimal furniture and my phone bill might be ridiculously high because I haven’t had the chance to sort out my Wi-Fi yet, but it actually feels like a home should.
I want that feeling in my career too. I’m tired of feeling small. Tired of having to make myself invisible so Cynthia can shine. And for what? I can’t claim any of the projects I’ve completed on my portfolio, and I don’t trust that Cynthia is actually going to follow through and actually give me the promotion.
I need to quit.
I’ve had the thought before, but this is the first time it’s floated into my mind with such clarity.
I’mgoingto quit.
On Monday morning, I’m going to walk into her office and slam my resignation down on her desk. She’ll fight it of course. Maybe she’ll promise to give me the promotion and pay rise on the spot in an attempt to get me to stay. Doubtful. It’s more likely that she’ll threaten to ruin me if I leave. And I have no doubt that she’ll do it too. Before I’ve even left the office she’ll have poisoned my name to everyone in her extensive contact book.
But that’s okay.
It’ll be slow at first, but I don’t need her high-profile clients to get started. I’ve made hundreds of connections of my own over the last seven years, and I’m sure it won’t take me long to drum up a steady stream of work.
The last part of Finn’s speech echoes in my mind, giving me a little boost of confidence in this new decision I’ve just made.
I’m going to do it. I’m really going to do it.
“You ready to go, sweetheart?” Finn leans against the door frame to the office.
“Are you finished?” If I strain, I can just about hear faint music and laughter. “Still sounds like the party’s going.”
“I’mfinished,” he says as he steps into the office. He meets me at my beanbag and offers a hand to help me stand. “Made a few excuses about some early morning meetings tomorrow and slipped out.”
“They’re not going to miss you?”
