Love Beyond Every Word

Chapter 8:The Client Dinner

Friday. 6:55 PM. Crisoms Tower, 60th Floor Restaurant.

It wasn’t a restaurant. It was a room full of glass, white tablecloths, and people who said “synergy” unironically.

Calista tugged at the hem of her black dress. It was borrowed from Nia. A little tight in the shoulders. A lot expensive looking.

She did not belong here.

“Ms. Cole,” Rowan said from the doorway. Navy suit. No tie again. “You’re on time.”

“Barely,” Calista said. “The subway smelled like wet dog.”

Rowan almost smiled. “Try not to mention that at the table.”

Inside: 8 people. Clients from a fintech startup. Two board members. And Tessa.

Tessa saw Calista and her eyes flicked to the dress. Then to Rowan. Then back.

She didn’t say anything. That was worse.

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Dinner.

Calista sat between Rowan and a client VP named Daniel who talked about crypto for 20 minutes straight.

She nodded. Smiled. Ate the salmon that probably cost more than her weekly groceries.

Then it happened.

Daniel turned to her. “So, Ms. Cole. You’re the new designer? What do you think of our brand?”

Calista took a sip of water. “Honestly? It’s forgettable.”

The table went quiet.

Forks stopped.

Tessa choked on her wine.

Daniel blinked. “Excuse me?”

Calista realized what she’d said. Too late. “I mean— it’s clean. But it doesn’t tell a story. People remember stories. Not just logos.”

Rowan set his glass down. Calm. Deadly calm.

“What Ms. Cole means,” he said, “is that the current brand is strong on recognition. What we’re proposing is to build emotional retention on top of that. Which is what your user data asked for.”

He turned to Daniel like nothing happened. “Slide 3 in the deck. The user survey.”

Daniel nodded slowly. “Right. Right.”

The conversation moved on.

Calista wanted to disappear into the bread basket.

Under the table, her phone buzzed.

Rowan: Don’t apologize. Don’t run. Just eat.

Calista stared at it. Then picked up her fork.

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10:20 PM. Outside the building.

The dinner ended early. Awkward early.

Tessa left first. “Night, everyone.” She didn’t look at Calista.

The clients left in Ubers.

Only Calista and Rowan were left on the curb.

“You didn’t have to cover for me,” Calista said.

“I wasn’t covering,” Rowan said. “You were right. Their brand IS forgettable. I hired you to say things other people won’t.”

Calista kicked a pebble. “Still. Sorry. I’ll be more... corporate.”

“Don’t,” Rowan said. “Corporate is what got us into this mess. Just think before you speak next time. Or don’t. It was entertaining.”

A cab pulled up. Rowan opened the door for her.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Queens,” Calista said.

Rowan gave the driver her address. From memory. From her HR file.

Calista looked at him. “How did you—”

“Stop,” Rowan said. “Go home. Sleep. Monday we pitch the new brand. For real this time.”

The cab pulled away.

Calista watched Crisoms Tower shrink in the rearview.

Her phone buzzed.

Nia: HOW WAS IT???

Me: I insulted a millionaire. My boss saved me. I think I still have a job.

Nia: GIRL. This is a movie.

At home, there was a voicemail from the hospital billing department.

“Ms. Cole, we need to discuss your grandmother’s payment plan...”

Calista deleted it. She’d deal Monday.

For now, she had a job. An embarrassing dinner. And a boss who knew her address.

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