“I know I’m lucky to have this second chance, but it feels weird—like I’m cheating.”
“You are not the one who cheated here.” Jules narrows her eyes. “And as far as I’m concerned, you deserve every crutch, cheat sheet, and crystal ball you can get.”
“Okay, so what are the Cliffs Notes on how I can stay professional at work when all I’m going to want to do is kick her ass?”
Jules smiles. “That would be something to see, but you know it won’t help you get Max back. Just stay focused on your goal—that means business as usual with her. Plus, you can use time to your advantage. What are you always saying? How you and Courtney are always in competition to be on Magda’s good side? That a compliment from her is as rare as—”
“—a California condor sighting,” I offer.
“Right—remember that you don’t only know about Max and Courtney, you also know what’s already happened at work. So use that information to your advantage with Magda. Save a deal that’s going bad or fix a mistake before it happens. Overnight, you’ll be the star.”
“Again, cheating—”
“So what! This is your life! Remember that.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
If only Jules had been right. It turns out living a day for the second time isn’t necessarily an advantage, especially when you have to pretend you don’t know your close friend and trusted colleague is planning to steal your fiancé. When I first arrived at work, I nearly collided with Courtney as I’d tried to duck into the bathroom. I studied her face for a moment, searching for signs that she was in love with my future husband, but there was nothing that gave her away. She’d offered me a warm smile and asked if she could grab me a coffee. I’d stammered something about already being overcaffeinated and proceeded to hide in the bathroom stall, trying to catch my breath until Magda’s assistant came looking for me, relaying a message that I was already five minutes late for a meeting about the Calvin Klein campaign we had landed the month before.
And the day didn’t get any easier from there. By the end of it, my tongue was sore from biting away the details I already knew but couldn’t share: that the start-up wedding website was going to fire us after lunch and there was nothing we could do to change their minds; that Magda’s latest boyfriend was going to break up with her right before a hugely important conference call; and that we were going to discover a major accounting error that was going to cost the firm thousands of dollars.
Then there was the idea I’d pitched to Magda for the spa we were trying to acquire as a client—a concept I knew would secure us the business, even though Magda’s perfectly arched eyebrow and patronizing stare more than suggested she felt otherwise. She’d given me the same disapproving look she’d given me thirty days ago, the one that launched us into the same argument today, me defending my Come find your happy ending billboard idea and Magda scoffing at it, her ill-fitting jacket accentuating her emaciated body—something she took a great deal of pride in, grinning wildly when a homeless man had called out to her to eat a cheeseburger already as we’d strolled by. But what I’d forgotten was that thirty days ago, when I’d pitched this campaign the first time, it had been Courtney who’d swooped in, taken my side, and won Magda’s praise for being more convincing about my own idea than I’d been.
As Courtney defended my intuitiveness and raved about how I always knew what the clients wanted, I’d wondered how I could be so in tune with the people I did business with yet so clueless about those closest to me—like her. When Courtney had backed me up last month, I’d shot her a smile and stage whispered that I’d buy all her drinks later that night when we went out with Max. But this time, I could barely force a smile, reluctantly swallowing the rage I felt toward her.
As we’d walked out of the glass-walled conference room, Courtney had laced her arm through mine and I’d stiffened involuntarily. As she pulled me down the hall toward our offices, my mind kept wandering to what Courtney would look like if her eyebrows were “suddenly” shaved off.
I dialed Jules’ number as soon as I got inside my office. “I need a lifeline,” I whined as soon as Jules said hello.
“I always wanted to be your phone-a-friend!” Jules exclaimed, both of us remembering how we used to fantasize about being contestants on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. “You would’ve called me, not Liam, right?”
“Of course!” I laughed.
“So what’s going on? Because I know you’re not sitting there with Regis Philbin.”
“It’s just that being at work with her is even harder than I thought it would be,” I’d lamented. “Especially when she’s nice to me.”