Mira

My mother returns carrying a bottle of champagne and a few plastic flutes.

"You just have champagne lying around the house now?"

"Your mother was planning to open it for our wedding anniversary next week, but your big news deserves to be celebrated tonight!" my father declares, rubbing his hands together.

My mother gives my shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"Forget our anniversary. We'll have plenty more."

My parents are about to celebrate twenty-eight years of marriage, to be precise. They've been the real deal ever since my father won my mother over with his stories about Armenia.

"Our daughter is going to be a creator! Can you believe it, Hayk?"

"You bet!" my father replies with a wink.

I sigh contentedly. That's what my parents are like: so in love that sometimes it's almost too much.

My mother takes a seat beside my father.

"I can't believe Mr. Vale offered you the job after you told him how disappointing his attraction was. That's our girl!"

She shoots my father a knowing look. I grimace.

"Actually, that's not exactly what I wrote..."

"She's lying," Elise says. "She told them Nebula Land represented everything Owen Vale would hate if he were still here."

My friend points at me with her water glass before taking a sip.

"You didn't!" Lena exclaims, shocked.

"I may have exaggerated a little, but it's true! The project Victor proposed was only a fraction of what Owen and I created."

At those words, my father's smile disappears. He places his hand over mine.

"Well, the joke's on Victor. Now you have a new position and the opportunity to change that attraction until it matches exactly what you dreamed of."

"I'm not sure that's what Elliot Vale wants."

I'm already starting this job severely underqualified and inexperienced. The last thing I want is to make waves with the creators, especially after accidentally submitting that inflammatory piece.

"If he hired you, he knows what he's doing," my father says.

I wish I were as confident in my abilities as he is. Ever since I left the boss's office this morning, anxiety has seeped into my mind until it completely overwhelmed me.

What if I only ever had one good idea, and it became brilliant because of Owen Vale? What if I'm only capable of coming up with one miraculous concept, and I fail spectacularly in front of the people I've admired my whole life?

I hate it when my thoughts fall into these old traps. Every time I make room for his criticism in my head, I let Victor win, and that only makes me angrier.

If you don't believe in yourself, no one else will.

My family suddenly pulls me from my thoughts. I open the bottle of champagne with a pop and raise it toward the ceiling.

Here's to you, Owen!

I arrive ten minutes early to impress Elliot, but my effort gets me nowhere: his door remains closed. While I wait, I chat with Diane. It doesn't take long for us to become good friends. We bond over our favorite romance author and our tradition of eating a Chick-fil-A chicken sandwich on Sundays.

Talking together makes the time pass.

Except eventually Diane has to get to work. I scroll through my news feed on my phone while fiddling with the fabric of my polka-dot dress.

All at once, the office door flies open with a bang. I jump and press a hand to my racing heart. I don't know what Elliot puts in his coffee in the morning, but it clearly isn't good for him. He strides out of the room without sparing either of us a glance.

"Follow him!" his secretary urges, practically shoving me out of my chair.

I hurry across the lobby to catch up. Keeping pace with him requires me to take twice as many steps. He's a giant. How does he keep from hitting his head on doorframes?

I can't stand the drawn-out silence and finally crack.

"I'm starting to think you're not a morning person," I say, somehow managing to match my stride to his.

Elliot grumbles under his breath. He heads toward the underground entrance on Story Street.

"Beautiful weather, isn't it? Why, yes, Mira, I was wondering why I bother showering in the morning when the humidity does it for me anyway."

I try to imitate his deep voice, but fail when my own voice cracks. The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly, and in my head, I pump a fist in victory.

I make a second attempt to save the conversation.

"So, are you enjoying Wondervale?"

"No," he grumbles.

"Oh," I say, stumbling.

Damn. I wasn't expecting that.

"Do you have a favorite attraction?"

"No."

Yay! We've found some common ground.

"Me neither! There are too many great ones."

That earns me another grunt.

"What's your favorite part of being director?"

"The silence at the end of the day."

His answer makes me laugh so hard my stomach hurts. Elliot stops to stare at me for a second before collecting himself.

We continue through the tunnels. My boss seems to know them like the back of his hand. Together, we climb two flights of stairs and pass through a door marked "Creators' Workspace." It's a warehouse divided into four sections by tall partitions. A distinctive smell hangs in the air, reminding me of elementary-school art class.

Elliot drags his feet as he leads me through each room. While I soak in the beauty of the place, he remains silent. The first area is packed with animatronics and robots for rides, parades, and shows. I run a hand along the metal arm of an animatronic. Suddenly, it moves. I jump backward and collide with Elliot's chest. He grips my arm to steady me. Every cell in my body flares at once, as if the softness of his touch has brought them back to life.

At his touch, my body turns into a furnace. My skin heats beneath his hand, and I find myself leaning against him. Without warning, he lets me go and bolts from the room as if his shoes are about to catch fire.

I match his quick pace and follow him into a creator's paradise, where the walls are covered in storyboards and the tables are strewn with every kind of art supply.

The next space holds numerous tables displaying miniature 3D models of Wondervale. The attention to detail takes my breath away. When I lean over one of them,an exact replica of Fairy Tale Land and Princess Aveline's castle,I can't resist touching one of the turrets with the tip of my index finger.

The back of my neck tingles. When I glance over my shoulder, I catch Elliot checking out my ass.

Well, I'll be damned. Is he attracted to me? As if the same thought has occurred to him, he presses his lips together, looking annoyed. I can't stop myself from laughing. At the sound, he blinks as if coming back to himself.

"Are you ready to meet someone, or are you still interested in your little tour that's wasting company time?" he snaps before heading for the door.