What had she done to deserve this rush of bad luck? She’d always tried to be such a good person. Now her archnemesis had not only moved into her office building, he was taking the same freaking yoga class as her. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Hudson knew the effect he had on women—he had to know—and he was just using that to disarm her. He had a guilty conscience because of the awful work he was doing with his app, and maybe he thought sleeping with her could somehow assuage that.

Ha. Hudson was kidding himself. Annika wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing. Zero. Zilch.

Everything looked better with a cinnamon dolce latte. As Annika walked through the cool parking garage the next morning, toting her coffee and yoga gear, she was sure her reaction to Hudson had just been a reaction to work stress. In the light of day, it was even a little amusing. How had she let someone like him get to her? It was so obvious Hudson was trying to sleep with her as some kind of coup or a way to make himself feel better about his terrible life choices.

Annika lined up for the elevator and took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. She was wearing her red sheath dress today, the one that made her feel confident and poised—and it was working. She’d come to the realization that Hudson should be considered a speed bump in her life and nothing more. He wasn’t worth the brain space she’d been dedicating to him. The elevator came and she stepped on, feeling more buoyant than she’d felt in a long time.

On her floor, there were noises coming from the Break Up office, but she kept her eyes pointed forward. They didn’t exist. They were irrelevant. What mattered was Make Up, the movement she was trying to grow, what she wanted to see more of in this world. Annika took a deep, centering breath, and pushed open the glass door.

June stood by the whiteboard, dressed in a purple puffed-sleeve shirt and gold skirt, her back to Annika. She was busy writing EPIC Pitch Contest at the top-right of the whiteboard, obviously gearing up for another brainstorming session. Hearing Annika arrive, she turned, beaming, a dry-erase marker held jubilantly aloft. Her chandelier earrings danced. “Guess what?”

“Um…” Annika went to put her yoga gear into the closet. “Mr. McManor decided to take pity on us? We’re debt-free? Hudson Craft fell out of his window? Gwyneth Paltrow’s cousin got chicken pox?”

June mock-pouted, her hands on her hips. “Now mine is going to feel like a letdown.”

Annika laughed. “I give up. What?”