The celebratory lunch the executives gave in honour of the agency landing the Kingman account made me genuinely happy. I felt blessed to work in such a positive environment.
But when I heard that James had been invited – although no one expected him to show up – I returned quietly to my desk and focused on work for the rest of the afternoon.
I hit the gym on the way home; then picked up some items to make fettuccini alfredo for dinner with creme brulee for dessert – comfort food guaranteed to put me in a carbohydrate coma.
I expected sleep to offer me a break from the endless what-ifs my brain was recycling, hopefully long into Saturday morning.
Cary and I ate in the living room with chopsticks, his idea to cheer me up. He said dinner was great, but I couldn't tell. I snapped out of it when he fell silent, too, and I realized I was being a less than stellar friend.
"When are the Grey Isles' campaign ads going up?" I asked.
