Hailey
Josh is already waiting by the carousel, his brown curls slightly messy, coffee in hand, a lopsided grin on his face. The second he sees me, his eyes scan mine, as if checking that I'm okay.
"I take it you survived the Marcus Ambush of 38,000 feet?"
"Barely," I groan, pulling my carry-on behind me. "He monologued. He pontificated. He called me sharp. Like I'm a cheese."
Josh snorts. "A fine-aged Gouda?"
I smirk. "At least. Maybe a brie. Something with bite."
We fall into step, waiting for the belt to spit out our bags.
"He also offered me permanent position," I say.
"Really?" Josh asks.
I sigh. "Senior editor. Full creative control. Said Luxe needs me."
Josh whistles. "Wow. That's big."
"It is big," I admit. "But if I take it... it's going to be on my terms."
He nudges me again. "Now that's the Hailey I know."
My suitcase finally rolls past and I yank it off the belt, wheels thudding.
Josh gestures toward the exit. "Ready to go home?"
