Shipped(90)

Sucking in a deep breath, I nod slowly.

“Tell you what,” she says. “Before you talk to Marlen on Monday, you come see me. I’ll give you my two cents about working at the executive level and share some negotiating pointers.”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful.”

She inclines her chin. “Life doesn’t give you many of these opportunities. My advice? Seize it, mold it, and make it everything you want it to be.” With a final encouraging smile, she breezes from the room.



* * *



“Holy shitballs, chief strategy officer?” Christina screeches after I fill her in on the news.

Walsh squeals at a decibel high enough to shatter glass as Graeme lifts me in his arms, twirling me on the spot. My heart soars while Walsh giggles.

“I knew you could do it,” he murmurs, and sets me on my feet.

“Hey, do you mind?” Sadie grouses.

“Sorry, Sadie,” I call, and begin edging across the lobby toward the elevator. The rest of the executive board has left the conference room, so besides Sadie, we’re alone in the lobby.

“Do you know how much money you’ll make as a chief strategy officer?” Christina croons. “You could pay off your student loans in, like, three years instead of thirty. You could move into a nicer apartment. Get another cat… one that doesn’t eat its own hairballs.”

“What about workload?”

“Dude, you already work the hours of an executive.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to. I want balance in my life.”

“So make sure you have it,” says Graeme. Pride shines from the depths of his gaze. “Establish your boundaries going into this job negotiation. You’re the one with the power right now. They want you. Make sure you’re coming at this thing from a position of strength. Ask for what you want and don’t budge on the nonnegotiables.”

I gaze up at him. “If I take the job, I guess this means we won’t be working together. Not in the same department, anyway.”

“No issues with human resources then.” He wraps his arms around my waist and hauls me close. “Hold up—‘if’?”

“I told them I’d think about it. I’m meeting with Marlen on Monday to discuss the details.”

Christina pats Graeme’s forearm. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she takes it.”

I bump her with my hip. “I told them I want you on my team. You interested?”

“In working for you?” She nods so fast her hair bounces around her shoulders. “Um, yes. Definitely. But don’t think I’m going to call you ma’am. I prefer Badass Boss Lady.”

I can’t hold back a burst of laughter. “Works for me.”

“Is it time to celebrate yet?” Walsh chimes in.

“Abso-freakin-lutely,” says Christina. But then she catches sight of the clock above the front desk and groans. “Ugh, it’s only four thirty. I have another half an hour on the clock.”

“Dinner and drinks at my apartment tonight?”

“And dancing,” adds Walsh.

“And dancing,” I echo.

Christina grins. “Sounds perfect. I’ll tell Tory. Catch you at your place at six?”

“See you then.”

Ten minutes later, Walsh, Graeme, and I are in the back of another Uber—an impeccably maintained Prius. Energetic house music filters through the back seat, and the driver’s head bobs to the rhythm.

My phone dings with a new email—it’s an all-company notice announcing James’s unexpected departure. I’m about to pocket my phone when the subject line of a different email catches my eye:

Launch of the Kodiak scheduled for April.



The Kodiak is a new ship currently being built that’s set to double our offerings in my region, North and Central America. I smile to myself. My former region, if I take this promotion.

I skim the email out of sheer force of habit. It’s mostly logistical details, but at the bottom there’s a list of positions the company will need to fill. A new ship requires all new crew and staff. I forward the email to Walsh.

I nudge her with my elbow. “Hey, check your email.”

Frowning, she pulls out her phone and opens it. “I don’t get it.”

“Keep scrolling… farther… there, the job listings.”

“Sanitation expert?”

“Spa coordinator. Aboard our newest ship that’s launching next spring. It involves giving massages, teaching Pilates and yoga, leading meditation sessions, that sort of thing. You’d be perfect for it.”

“Henley,” she breathes as her eyes dart across the screen. “Meeting new people every week… traveling on a ship that sails around the world? This is my dream job.” Then the excitement ballooning in her expression deflates. “You really want me to move out that badly?”

I scoot closer to her. “No! God, no. In fact, I was thinking I need to find a bigger place when my lease is up in November. Maybe a two-bedroom apartment? Even if you take a job on one of our ships, it won’t be year-round. You’ll have certain months off, so you’ll need a home base somewhere. And I want you to know you can stay with me—always. What do you say?”