“We need you to send us a report of the progress you’ve made so far,” she requests. “I have a conference call with Tony Gyles in twenty minutes to fix what you did.”

Her voice, the idea of her handling Mr. Gyles, and wanting to know everything I’ve done until today claws at my stomach.

“Even though, this is a new branch we’ve secured several accounts…” Four, but that’s something.

“…Mr. Gyles is particular about—”

“Do you think we pay you to fuck the competition?” she interrupts me. “We know what happened in California. Blend will manage this account, but not you. As for the branch, I’m not sure you’re the right person for the job.”

My pulse speeds as my heart pounds against my ribcage. “What are you saying, Shelby?”

“Look, you might be a better fit in London, where Edith can shape you to be grand. She insists we go with Plan B and your performance is just convincing her to do it,” she says with a calm, professional voice. “Nothing personal, darling, it’s business. You’re one of the partners, but we still have the last word. It’s in your best interest to start behaving like a partner and not some love-crazed teenager.”

Before I can say anything, she hangs up the phone and I’m left cold, wondering what it is I can do to fix this. And what the fuck is this Plan B they keep talking about?

Of course, I spent half of my day searching for that new client they might want to land. Nothing comes up. I did find a few new leads and asked Danielle to have the team approach those companies. If we land some of those accounts, I’ll call it a win. If only I could avoid going to Miller’s parents …

“You didn’t have to bring wine,” Miller says as we walk toward his parents’ house.

“You didn’t have to bring me, and yet, here I am,” I answer.

“Actually, they requested your presence,” he observes, pushing the code for the lock. “They’ve been waiting for this moment all their lives.”

“You have to tell them the truth,” I suggest. “Technically, we’re not together.”

“Because you keep saying, not yet. If it was for me, I’d be bending on one knee and asking you to—”

“Oh my, you two are getting married?” Crystal asks as she opens the door.

“Mom,” he says.

“Sweetie, I’m so happy for you,” she exclaims and hugs me tightly. “This is the best news I’ve heard since Lola announced her pregnancy.”

I glare at Miller, who I swear is going to die tonight, smothered by a pillow. No one will find his body.

Then, Crystal holds my arms and asks, “Are you pregnant too?”

“No, I’m not pregnant and we’re not getting married,” I correct her and glare at her son.