Waves of Hope

When Mal Wilkins is offered a contract in sunny California, she jumps at the chance. It's out of her comfort zone, but if it means leaving behind her weather-induced anxiety, it's worth the trip. Meeting Ryan Jones, the swoon-worthy owner and CEO of AMF Sporting Goods, is icing on the cake.

Ryan Jones would rather be surfing than sitting in the office of his billion dollar company, but he has to prove to his employees that he has what it takes. The last thing he expects is to fall for the advertising agent who is there to bring his company national attention.

Ryan is willing to share the world with Mal, but first he has to uncover what she's hiding. Can his love give her the hope she needs, or will he lose her forever?

 A storm was coming. She could feel it. The weatherman didn't have to forecast it—the overwhelming anxiety lurking in the back of her mind was warning enough.

Mal shut her laptop. Work wouldn't be happening for the rest of the day. Her mind had closed down and she wanted to get home before the anxiety got worse. She slipped into her coat and grabbed her bag, hoping to get out of the office before she was stopped.

"Hey, Mal, did you get—” Carissa narrowed her eyes and studied Mal's face. “Are you okay?”

No. No, I'm not. But smile anyway. “I'm fine. Just tired. What was it you
needed?”

Carissa frowned and patted the pile of folders in her arm. "Debra wanted to make sure you had your file ready for the meeting . . . are you sure you're okay?"

Mal forced a laugh, shoving down the impending attack. Just a few more minutes. “Yes. And I just sent it through email. She should have it. Listen, I need to take off. See you tomorrow.”

She pushed her way past Carissa and tried not to break into a run as the noise in her head got louder. It was just a little farther to her car. She could do this. A group of people stood at the elevator laughing and talking about the upcoming party. Forget the elevator. Too many people. Mal veered right to go down the stairs. The pounding of her feet on the steps beat in time to the screaming in her head.

By the time she made it to the parking lot, she could barely see the cars through her tears as she fumbled for her keys. There. She snatched them out of her purse and unlocked the car. Instead of getting into the front to leave, she climbed into the back seat and curled up into a ball, finally allowing the sobs to escape. Her body shook and the tears ran down her cheeks and onto the leather seats in her small Civic.

What had she been thinking, taking the extra hours over the Christmas season? She knew her depression was that much worse during the winter season. It was what had made her hesitate to take the job in the first place.

Several minutes later, Mal sat up and brushed the tears from her face. It was time to go. The worst of the attack had passed, so the trip home would be much more manageable. Groceries should have been delivered that morning—it was the first thing she’d set up when she got her first bonus from Silver Script Ad Agency. This way she wouldn't have to leave the house if she couldn't handle it. The second big thing she'd bought was her Civic. The train and cab options were nearly impossible for her. Too many people in an enclosed place.

Mal made sure no one was around before climbing into the front seat. No need for more questions. There had been too many looks like the one Carissa had given her. Too many offers of unsolicited advice on how to “fix” herself.

The traffic was heavy by the time Mal pulled onto the street. Not surprising for New York City. And surprisingly enough, she loved it. The bustle, the people. They were what had drawn her to this job in the first place. Making it as an ad executive in New York City was a far cry from her small-town roots in upstate New York, and she soaked in the atmosphere—when she wasn't having a panic attack.

She made her way to the Bronx and to her small apartment. The parking garage was empty as she pulled in. Most of her neighbors would still be at work or going to Christmas parties, and she welcomed the quiet.

An old Christmas tree sat in the corner of the lobby, draped with tinsel and ornaments that had seen better days. Her landlord insisted that she could never get rid of the old thing. And somehow it fit the building. Lived-in, worn down, but loved.

Mal collected her mail before going up to her apartment. The lights flickered before coming on, welcoming her home. The studio was tiny, but it held her favorite things, and that's all that mattered.

The fridge was packed with groceries, making her shake her head. Her delivery boy, Patrick, had outdone himself yet again. He was a good five years younger than Mal, but it didn't stop him from begging her for a date every time she called to put in the order. She chose some soup he’d picked up from the local deli and put it into the microwave to heat up. Bed could wait until she ate. She'd already skipped breakfast and lunch that day. If she wasn't careful, the attack would put her out of commission for days, if not weeks.

Mail consisted of several magazines, a few bills, credit card offers, and a few Christmas cards. The cards could wait. No need to make things worse by making her homesick. The bills would wait as well. She didn’t want the extra stress.

The microwave dinged, and Mal jumped. She reminded herself for the hundredth time to get a new microwave. This alarm was way too loud, and the thing only worked half the time anyway. Mal sat down with her soup and the magazines, glancing through the pages to make sure her ads looked right. A thrill shot through her as she found the familiar advertisement for a local toy company. Even after working at Silver Script for over a year, she still loved seeing her work published.

Mal folded over the corner of the pages next to her ads before slipping the magazines into an envelope. She always made sure her mom could find her work. The thought of the excited phone call she’d get a few days from now made Mal smile. There was always the option of taking them with her for Christmas, but these phone calls were part of the whole routine.

With dinner done, Mal finally slipped into her bed and allowed herself to let go of everything. She didn’t need to care at that point. She just needed to sleep and allow herself to get through this darkness. She used her phone to set a reminder to buy some vitamins, and noticed an email from Debra.

She hesitated. Worrying about work was something she didn’t need right then, but maybe after leaving so quickly that day, it would be a good idea to check. With a tap of her finger, the email opened.

Mal,

I tried to come by your desk with a new assignment, but you’d already left. I hope everything is all right.

If you could meet me tomorrow around ten, that would be great. If that’s a problem, let me know as soon as possible so I can make other arrangements.

Debra

Mal frowned.
Usually the assignments were sent through email, not in person. Red flags went up inside her head, but she pushed them away. She hadn’t done anything at work that would get her into trouble, and Debra seemed to like her. Maybe the client was a little tougher than some of her others.

She typed a quick note back to Debra, telling her things were fine and that the meeting time would work for her. “Fine” wasn’t at all how she’d describe herself, but she didn’t need to let anyone else know that. She’d deal with it herself.

Mal snuggled down into her bed, trying to ignore the Christmas lights shining through her window. Another addition by the landlord to make the complex more festive.

Thoughts of what the meeting could possibly be about worked like counting sheep as she drifted off.

***

Mal stared into
the mirror, going through the daily routine of convincing herself that yes, it was okay to go to work, and no, she couldn’t just skip it and stay in bed. Especially today. Something was different about this meeting, and while she was still feeling the effects of the snowstorm outside, she was almost excited to go in to the office. Even if it meant fleeing shortly after the meeting was over.

She slipped her
jacket on and picked up her briefcase. She could do this. The halls of the complex were buzzing with other families getting ready to leave for the day. Normally, she would have left an hour earlier to avoid them, but she’d forgotten to set her alarm before going to bed the night before. Mal squared her shoulders and forced a smile as she walked down the hallway, waving at
whoever met her eye. This way they wouldn’t stop by to check on her. If they worried that something was wrong, they would pry.

The air had a bite to it as she made her way to her car. She waited her turn to leave the garage, hoping the heater would warm up in the few blocks to work, but not counting on it. At least the chill helped clear her mind of the fogginess left over from the night before.

The Silver Script building was now covered in garland and lights throughout the reception area. Someone had been busy after hours. Mal pushed the button to the elevator and stared at the numbers as she moved up to her floor.

There was still another half an hour before the meeting with Debra, so Mal set her bag down and pulled out her laptop to check on a few things. She smiled when she saw the
approval letter for the car commercial she’d worked on. A lot of time had been spent convincing the company that her idea would work, and they’d finally agreed. The Christmas commercials had gone well enough that they’d lengthened
the contract with her into the Super Bowl and spring season. Perfect.

The beeping of her watch pulled Mal out of her research for the upcoming seasons. She closed her laptop and stood, straightening her jacket, then walked down the line of cubicles and knocked lightly on Debra’s door. She heard a “come in!” and turned the doorknob.

“Hey, Mal.” Debra grinned. Her auburn hair fell perfectly on her shoulders, and her large wedding ring glinted in the light as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re right on time. Come on in.”

Mal closed the door behind her and sat on a chair in front of Debra’s desk. “I just got the approval email. They want to keep me on.”

Debra’s eyes lit up. “That’s great. I knew you were right for the campaign.”

“Thanks.” Mal clasped her hands on her lap to keep from fidgeting. “What did you want to see me about?”

Debra studied her for a moment before leaning forward. “We have a new client that is interested in using us for their company, and I’ve been trying to decide who to use for the job. Carissa told me that you’d be perfect for it. Insisted, in fact.”

Mal raised her eyebrows. “She didn’t want it for herself?”

“No, she’s too busy with her new baby, and she’s helping Erin with a few other jobs.” Debra handed Mal a folder. “Read through it and tell me what you think.”

The contract was like most of the others. AMF Sporting Goods focused mostly on the newest and greatest in sports equipment. It was located in California. They insisted on . . . Mal glanced up from the paper. “They want someone there in person? Why
not conference calls?”