Always, Ella

by Sofia Sawyer

  “A lot’s riding on it. Mark said whoever lands this account will automatically get a promotion. It’s a brand-new role that oversees the creative direction for all the agency’s copywriting projects. It’s a pretty big deal.”

  Mae’s eyebrows shot up. “And if Brittany gets it, that means…”

  “That I’d technically report to her and she’d have a say on what projects I can take? Yeah.” Elena pursed her lips and shivered at the thought. It would be hell.

  The truth was Elena had struggled to find the right words to put into the campaign, and she worried it would cost her the promotion. Mae’s design was eye-catching, but it took Elena longer than normal to think of the copy that would wow anyone who saw it but also stay within the parameters of what their clients typically liked.

  Writing had always come easy for Elena, which is why she became a copywriter in the first place nearly seven years ago. She was excited about writing for a living, especially after she learned novelists didn’t usually earn enough to pay the bills. But within her first year of writing in a professional setting, she quickly found that’s where creativity went to die.

  She thought she would have way more freedom to push the envelope and write something compelling. Revolutionary. New. However, she learned clients just wanted something stable, which was another word for unoriginal. Writing to appeal to the clients’ needs sucked her soul dry.

  Sure, they had loved her creative pitches at the beginning. And, for a moment, she felt a glimmer of hope that she’d get free rein to see what she could do. But by the time the campaign went from concept to production, they had picked it apart, taking out every creative twist and replacing it with a rehash of whatever they were doing before.

  They wanted to play it safe. It disappointed her every time.

  After experiencing it as many times as she had, it became a struggle to create new pitches. It was hard to stomach how much it would get watered down to the point of being unrecognizable.

  There was nothing wrong with working at Holy City Advertising Agency. It was a fine job. Paid the bills. Offered steady work. Had a cool office space in downtown Charleston. Most of her coworkers were awesome. But with corporate copywriting, she found herself with limitations.

  At least she could flex her creative muscles on her own projects, like the novel she had started a couple years ago.

  And that blog.

  It had taken on a life of its own, making her both terrified and proud. Elena had made a choice a year ago, rather than shutting it down, she had embraced it head-on as a way to help others and herself. Then a post went viral, her subscribers skyrocketed, and along with the dozens of help requests she received every day, she was getting requests from news outlets and magazines to write articles.

  Elena had needed to create a whole new presence. Email address, social media, swanky new Always, Ella website, her beautifully designed logo—thanks to Mae’s expertise. Turns out, moonlighting as an advice columnist during her free time was both exhausting and energizing.

  Even with so much attention on her, she’d managed to keep her identity under wraps, only allowing herself to be referred to as Ella.

  But that was about to change, and it scared the shit out of her.

  Mae dipped her mermaid-dyed head down, keeping her voice low. “Are you ready for your other meeting?”

  Elena swiveled her head, checking to see if anyone was listening. Brittany’s cubicle was next to hers, and it had gone awfully quiet.

  “You know, Elena, if you spent less time slacking off with your friend, you might have a real shot at winning this account. Maybe,” Brittany chimed in. “If I were you, I’d be using every spare moment to step up my game.”

  Elena gritted her teeth, her nostrils flaring.

  Mae raised an eyebrow, a look of fire filling her eyes, one that Elena knew all too well. Mae was ready to go to battle for her, a role she’d taken on early in their friendship. She may be tiny, but she wasn’t one anyone should trifle with.

  Elena gripped her hand. “Don’t you dare,” she whispered.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice to finally put her in her place?” she whispered back, her voice rough with anger. “She would lose it if she knew you’re not only you-know-who but that you’re about to be published.”

  Elena shook her head, trying to snap herself out of picturing Brittany’s stunned face when she dropped that bomb. She nodded her head towards the break room where they both wandered off to.

  Her viral blog was about to become a book, and after work, she was meeting with her team to discuss the launch plan. For the first time in her life, she felt like she had some sense of control and that people actually appreciated her for who she was. Which was a ridiculous notion because she’d hidden behind her pseudonym, but that just went to show how powerful it was. The idea of coming forward caused a flurry of doubt. What would people think? Would revealing Elena discredit the all the good she’d done as Ella?

  What if it all went away?

  No. She couldn’t stomach that thought. Always, Ella had become everything to her.

  “I’m a little nervous,” she finally answered when the last person making their late-afternoon coffee had filed out.

  “Christopher will take care of you, don’t worry,” Mae said with confidence. “You’ve wanted to be a published author since we were kids. Celebrate this.”

  Christopher Adams was Elena’s agent and a friend of Mae’s old college roommate. When a massive publisher had reached out to her only a couple months after the blog had taken off, Mae had suggested Elena get an agent to watch her back.

  And he had. As a well-respected agent in New York’s publishing scene, Christopher not only helped Elena navigate through the ins and outs of publishing, but he also negotiated a two-book deal rather than the one the publisher had initially pitched.

  It may not be the type of book she had intended on writing when considering becoming a novelist, but it was a start and a pretty good learning experience. Hopefully, this deal would help her move from self-help to fiction.

  “I know. He’s been great. I just don’t understand why my editor is flying down here from New York. She left me a voicemail this morning saying her marketing director would be attending too.” Elena shook her head, trying to release her knotted stomach, a natural reaction whenever she thought of her books finally being published.

  Mae shrugged and grabbed an apple from one of the fruit bins on the counter. “No idea.”

  “Rachel said she wanted to meet face to face because she was excited about the launch. Something about how it would be bigger than anything she’s done for any of her authors.”

  “Oh yeah, no pressure at all.” Mae smirked and took a bite of the granny smith.

  Elena sighed and leaned a hip against a nearby table. “Once this book comes out…”

  “Everyone is going to know that you’re Ella,” Mae finished for her.

  “Shhh.” Elena looked over her shoulder. “Keep your voice down. God.”

  Mae rolled her eyes. “Your identity is about to come out, Elena. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

  “Ladies, excellent meeting,” Mark said as he entered the break room and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  Elena and Mae straightened, trying to act casual. “Thanks,” they said in unison.

  “Keep it up,” he added before leaving as quickly as he came.

  Elena let out a breath.

  Mae squeezed Elena’s shoulder. “I gotta get back to work. Stop by my apartment after the meeting. Okay?” Elena grimaced. “Oh my God. Relax. You’ll be fine.”

  “Um. What?” Elena looked at Christopher with a silent cry for help.

  Their group sat on the back patio at the Vintage Vines wine bar, enjoying the moderately warm spring day. Rachel had just given them a quick overview of the launch plan, rendering Elena speechless.

  “What Elena is trying to ask is what’s reasoning behind this approach? This is a pretty significant change.�
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  Christopher, her savior. Confident, distinguished, and never takes anyone’s shit. He was a true professional. Surely he could navigate this conversation in a way that would bring her editor back to reality. To share her real identity was one thing, but this? This was too much to process.

  “Absolutely, Mr. Adams. I’ll be happy to answer that,” Celeste Merrimak, the marketing director, chimed in.

  Rachel pushed a manicured hand through her impeccable red hair and leaned back into her chair with a glass of wine, indicating Celeste could take the reins.

  “Studies have shown more people are in relationships during the winter months. Therefore, we’ve decided to launch your singles-focused advice book this summer, when more people are either unattached, or summer flings are popular. Since the second book is focused on couple’s advice, we are tying that launch to Valentine’s Day, and the show will air the during the week leading up to the launch. That is when we will do the big Ella reveal. We’ll offer those who have purchased your first book or have preordered the second book exclusive access to behind-the-scenes footage. Really get a buzz going. It’s brilliant.”

  Christopher looked pensive for a moment before nodding, no doubt crunching numbers in his head. “I see.”

  Elena swallowed and wrung her hands under the table, a bead of sweat trickling from her temple. A show. As in TV. Her freaking face on national TV. She knew the publisher was just one arm of Berkshire Media, a major media conglomerate. But this?

  She was not prepared for this.

  “And,” Celeste continued, “the show will be a perfect way to illustrate the book’s value. It will be shot reality-style, with three couples at varying stages of their relationships. They’ll come here, to Charleston. We felt it would be a nice touch as we finally introduce the woman behind Always, Ella.” She smiled warmly at Elena, but Elena couldn’t return it.

  “That’s why we’re here. To meet with the location scout,” Rachel added.

  “And you want me to coach them through their relationship challenges?” Elena asked slowly, that sinking dread weaving its way to her stomach.

  Celeste nodded with an encouraging smile, her precision bob shifting with the movement. “Yes. You’re going to help them rediscover their romance or fan the flame of new love just like you do in your blogs and, now, the book.”

  “Will you excuse us for a moment?” Christopher tapped Elena’s shoulder, pulling her from her trance, and led her inside the wine bar and out of earshot. “We’re doing this.”

  “Are you insane?” she whispered-shrieked.

  “I get it. You’re scared; if your white face is any indication.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it. It’s too much.”

  He shot her a look that told her he was about to unleash a dose of reality, one she wasn’t going to like. “You want to be a novelist? You need to prove to publishers you’re worth the investment and will do what it takes to market it. Always, Ella worked out for you because you managed to get a cult following. You coach people every single day. You can do this.”

  “But a show, Christopher? You know how I feel about being in the spotlight.” She swallowed. “It’s not what I want.”

  A social media takeover and a multi-city book signing she could handle. She could even stomach some digital ads splashed across Times Square.

  A reality show was far more than she was comfortable with. She was almost tempted to pull the plug on the release altogether. “Elena, you’re a talented writer and one of my favorite authors, but you have to realize that this isn’t a normal offering. Other authors would kill for an opportunity like this. It’s the golden ticket to success. If you say no now, I don’t think you can repair the relationship here.” He paused and looked at her pointedly. “The publishing industry is small,” he let the unspoken warning linger.

  Elena exhaled a breath, hating how right he was. She should be beaming with joy that they’d invest this much in a debut author, not acting like a difficult diva. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “That’s my girl. Plus, once I negotiate a big, fat contract with them for this show, it will give you a nice advance, so maybe you can quit your day job and focus on writing.” He winked. “C’mon, doll, let’s get back out there.”

  Elena trudged behind him like a toddler being forced to leave the playground. She wasn’t ready to deal with this, but she knew she had to.

  “We’re listening,” Christopher said as they retook their seats. Elena took a gulp of her wine, attempting to push down the bile traveling up her esophagus.

  “Wonderful. Then the last detail I should tell you is that we want you to have a co-host.”

  Elena’s eyebrows knitted. “A co-host? I’m not sure I’m following.”

  Excitement danced in Celeste’s eyes. “How do you think your boyfriend will feel about being on the show with you? You two lovebirds can be a good example to show the couples how it’s done.”

  Oh, shit.

  Houston, we have a problem.

  4

  Jackson

  Jackson St. Julien tucked the surfboard under his arm as he waded through the water. The waves crashed against his legs, propelling him to the shoreline. May was his favorite time of year to surf in Charleston. The ocean was a refreshing seventy degrees, and as the sun beat down on his bare skin, the water was the perfect way to feel rejuvenated. He could stay out here for hours.

  He was glad he came back home, timing his trip perfectly for when his parents were on their annual bullshit vacation somewhere in the Virgin Islands. Same place with the same people for the past three decades.

  He shuddered at the thought. For the last ten years, he had been traveling the world to different seaside communities. Some were popular destinations, bustling with tourists and surfing enthusiasts. Others were remote lands with the most awe-inspiring, untouched landscapes he’d ever seen.

  With his company’s sustainable surfing products, he’d traveled far and wide to understand how he could improve the communities he’d visited and protect the world’s oceans. It had been one hell of a ride. And now it was time to take a beat and figure out the next phase of his business. He sure as hell didn’t need his father breathing down his neck while he considered his action plan. Hence, visiting while they were gone.

  Old money. Old fashioned. Old expectations. It was all the same if you were born and raised in a well-off family in the South. His father had never really gotten over the fact Jackson hadn’t followed in his footsteps of becoming a lawyer, instead opting out of graduating college during his senior year to pursue this new venture.

  It had been a point of contention for them for many years. As his father became more and more vocal about it, Jackson came home less and less. He knew it wasn’t fair to his sister or mother, but he needed space to breathe so he could grow his business on his own terms.

  Now he was at a crossroads. He needed time to settle and regroup.

  “Those were some of the best waves we’ve had here in a while,” Mae commented as she followed him along the beach, making their way to their parents' house—a beautiful stilted home on the shore with massive windows and sprawling porches that always had the best views of the sunrise.

  “It’s good to be back.”

  They propped up their surfboards in the sand so they could get rinsed off in the outdoor shower, and wrapped towels around their bodies as they padded up the stairs to the kitchen. His mom would have a fit if she knew they were dripping all throughout the house, but thankfully the cleaners would be there tomorrow.

  “Mae!” a feminine voice shouted from the front of the house, followed by erratic pounding on the door. “Mae! Open up!”

  Jackson’s long legs effortlessly beat Mae to the front. He swung the door open and felt like he was gut-punched.

  Elena Lucia.

  It had been a couple of years since he’d seen his little sister’s BFF, and despite the look of sheer panic—and a bit of annoyance—she had someho
w gotten even more gorgeous than he remembered.

  He had always thought she was attractive with her thick chestnut hair, olive skin, sparkling brown eyes, and curves that could bring a man to his knees.

  That ass. Those thighs.

  Jackson fought a groan.

  His eyes roved over her face, landing on her heart-shaped, kissable mouth. Lips that were most definitely off-limits.

  Although they’d been friends when they were younger, Elena and Jackson had butted heads a lot since they were teens.

  He hated the front she’d put on for other people, always desperate for approval. She would morph into someone entirely different. That version of Elena was depressing to see and frustrated the hell out of him. So what if he called her out on it from time to time? He was doing her a favor.

  But she never saw it that way.

  “Jackson,” she scowled. “What are you doing home?”

  He leaned against the door frame casually and smiled. “Miss me?” He never could resist the urge to push her buttons.

  She rolled her eyes. “Hardly. Where’s Mae? I need her. It’s an emergency.”

  “In the kitchen!” Mae called out.

  Elena pushed past him, the scent of flowers and peppers hitting his senses, reminding him of the little firecracker herself: sweet and spicy all at once.

  He shut the door and trailed in languidly after her, watching her flail her hands as she explained her so-called “emergency.” She had a big personality whenever she was brave enough to show it. He tried not to laugh as her arms moved even faster, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was on the verge of one of her famous freak outs. She was a mess⁠—a ball of nervous energy⁠—but he found it endearing.

  “It’s a disaster!”

  “It sounds like a really good thing, Elena. This could be huge for your books. Plus, your identity was going to come out eventually. At least you have some control in this. You know Berkshire Media is going to make you look like a darling and an expert. They want to sell more of your books, after all,” Mae reasoned as she hopped up to sit on the granite island.