"Who we marry is one of the most important decisions in life. One that will influence the level of happiness, growth, and success, like no other choice."
- Nathan Workman
Whitley's head popped up at the sudden interruption. She'd been staring at her computer screen, analyzing and dissecting a presentation her creative director emailed her a couple hours before. By the looks of things, the young man hadn't quite grasped what their clients were looking for, though he was headed toward the right direction. It would require her own personal touch and vision to give it that final push.
"What time is it?"
"Almost 7," the younger woman replied, standing right outside Whitley's office door. "I emailed you my final report on the Trailblazr account and set up a meeting for Tuesday with Robbins. I put it all in the email."
Whitley nodded, rubbing her temples. "I didn't realize how late it was." She peered over her shoulder and sighed. Sure enough, the sun had set, and nightfall had settled in.
"Me either. My kid's been calling for the past hour or so, so I figured I'd go home and, you know, feed him."
A subtle smirk played at the corner of Whitley's slightly rouged lips. "I should probably follow suit," was her weary reply as she reached for her phone; 3 missed calls and a slew of unanswered text messages.
"See you Monday," she waved.
Whitley allowed herself to collapse against the back of her chair, releasing a long breath. It had been an excruciatingly long week and she'd easily logged over 60 hours both in the office and out, tending to clients' needs, overseeing multiple accounts, putting out fires, wooing potentials, and leading meetings for her most vital clients. While she could have easily delegated a great deal of those tasks, there were just some things she'd rather handle herself.
She fully understood the cost of her dedication, acknowledged the fact that she'd completely neglected her homelife, which Dwayne would chastise her for later. Two of those missed calls and at least five of those unanswered messages she'd also been neglecting to answer had been from him. The rest were from the family group message, most likely revolving around what was on the menu for dinner and where the hell their mother was. Whitley looked down at her hand when her phone vibrated again, screen lighting up with a message from her eldest daughter.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Whitley chuckled as she slid her MacBook into its sleeve and shoved it into her purse. She typed a quick message to the group text, then called Dwayne. He picked up on the first ring.
["I was starting to think you got lost or something, baby," he answered.]
"I'm sorry, Dwayne. I just lost track of time, but I'm leaving now."
Whitley turned off her light and closed the door behind her, then began the short trek to the elevator bank.
["It's late. You're not walking to the garage, huh?"]
