Charlotte woke early on Thursday morning, stretching her toes to the edge of the bed and popping them out from under the covers into the cool morning air. She swung her legs over the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew, somewhere in the city, Sean Lawson was waking, brushing his teeth, sipping his coffee. Little did he know, he was about to meet his biggest fan.

Having dressed quickly, Charlotte shoved her feet into her tennis shoes and rushed out the door for her usual three-mile run. Her muscles sizzled with strength and her arms swung quickly, propelling her forward.

She’d grown into a fine runner during college, when she’d discovered that studying gave her a kind of anxiety she couldn’t shake without a bit of sweat. With endorphins revving in her blood stream, she’d been able to ace her exams, pass the bar in Washington state, and maintain her slim figure into year 28.

She gasped over her knees upon her return, searching for regular breath—no more from the run than the nerves—then took a cool shower, scrubbing at her scalp and reciting the milestones of Sean Lawson’s career in her mind.

After drying off, he chose her favorite business suit—a matching black pinstripe blazer and skirt that was perfectly tailored to her curves, paired with a crisp, sky-blue blouse to bring out her eyes. She donned a bit of extra makeup, smoothing that pesky eyebrow hair that never grew in the right direction, and grinned at her reflection. She felt great. She was ready to meet her hero.

Of course, true to herself and her morals, Charlotte booked it to the office on her bike, finding herself hitting every green light, and her hair staying mostly tame. She clicked the lock into place and darted up to the top floor. Life, during these moments, seemed blissful, like a dream.

But the moment she entered the office, panic smacked her in the face.

“Charlotte. Can I speak with you my office?” Lyle said, his voice stern. He gestured toward his door, and Charlotte followed him, frowning, still carrying her bicycle helmet.

Entering Lyle’s office, she sat in the cushy leather armchair and leaned slightly forward. Lyle was clearly panicking—sweat was gathering on his brow, and he swiped a Kleenex over his rosy cheekbones, staring wide-eyed at his computer.

“Listen, Charlotte. This Sean Lawson case, as you know, is our most important. One of the most important we’ve ever taken on, actually. And this morning—well.” He gulped. “Katrina called in sick.”

Charlotte’s jaw dropped. “She’s sick? How can she be sick at a time like this?” Her mind began to race. “I mean, she knows how important this is. Doesn’t she?”

Lyle shrugged helplessly. “Food poisoning, apparently. She went to that new Indian place in Capitol Hill and—bam.” He shook his head, as if discussing a death. “Anyway. I need you to take the meeting by yourself.”

Charlotte’s heart leaped. She felt vibrant, electric, for all of a moment before the true weight of this problem smacked her: she was woefully underprepared for this kind of meeting.

“I was given all those other cases…” she began, shaking her head. She felt herself slump in her chair. “I can’t lead a meeting like this. Did Katrina send her notes, maybe?”

But Lyle just shook his head. “She said she hadn’t prepared anything, that she was planning on doing it last night.”

“But we got this assignment days ago,” Charlotte whispered, her voice strained. She watched as Lyle shook his head, as they dove into slimy, stinking reality. Charlotte would go into this meeting without ready preparation, sure to embarrass herself in front of the man she’d admired since she was eighteen.

“Whatever,” Charlotte said, brushing it off. She fished her notepad out of her purse, beginning to write furious notes. “I’m assuming we can’t postpone this meeting, due to his schedule.”

“That’s correct,” Lyle said, trying to peer at the notes she was writing. “And I have a meeting with one of our stalwart clients, across town, so I cannot join you. I’m truly sorry, Charlotte. I’m sorry to put so much of the future of the company on your shoulders.”

Charlotte shook her head, giving him a bright smile. She forced the clouds to part in her mind. This was just another glass ceiling, another wall she’d have to break through on her path to success.

“Don’t worry, Lyle. You hired me for a reason,” she said, casually addressing that Katrina had been hired for no reason other than her father’s name.

With that, Charlotte hurried from Lyle’s office to her own. She perched on her chair, her eyes boring into the computer screen, and began to type furiously, zipping through the facts of the case and watching as the minutes ticked to an hour.

She was due to meet with Sean Lawson at 10 a.m. in the Lawson Technologies building, which was thankfully just a ten-minute walk away. Through her office window, she saw one of the secretaries preparing a coffee and cookie tray for the staff, for the morning mini-break; for her part, Charlotte couldn’t imagine that she’d ever be hungry again.

Just before she left, she opened the antique pewter box, lifting the cufflink out and putting it in her pocket. Maybe it would bring her good luck. And maybe, if she had enough confidence, she would return it to its rightful owner, thus admitting the strength of her memory of him.

Charlotte marched toward the Lawson Technologies building on Jell-O legs, trying to clear her head. She entered the office building, feeling like she was on display, with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining each of the walls, forcing sunlight into her face. The air felt warm, covering her like a blanket.

She reached the front desk and gave the secretary a warm smile. “Charlotte Waters,” she said. “With Ellis and Associates. I have a meeting with Sean Lawson at 10 a.m.”

The secretary seemed to look Charlotte up and down with a bit of humor, peering at her beneath cat-eye glasses. Charlotte knew this woman had delivered the likes of Mark Zuckerburg, founder of Facebook, to Sean Lawson’s offices, and this nervous-looking blonde lawyer from out East didn’t exactly fit the bill.

Finally, the secretary spoke. “Yes. I’ll show you to the boardroom. If you’ll just follow me.”

She lifted herself from her spinning chair, her wide hips swaying as she sauntered towards the elevator. She cleared her throat and pressed the button, and the pair of them stood, side-by-side, without speaking. Charlotte longed to find something—anything—to say, to make her memorable to this woman who interacted with Sean each and every day.

The secretary showed Charlotte to the boardroom and abandoned her quickly, dropping her off like a scared kid at their first summer camp.

Charlotte stood in the bright, natural light and gazed around her, taking a seat first at the head of the table, then at the side. The secretary had told her that Sean would be with her shortly, and not to be concerned if he was tardy. “He has important work to do,” she had said, meaning, “more important than meeting with you.”

The door handle began to turn, and Charlotte leaned forward as time gave way to a beautiful image.

There, in the crack of the door, emerged Sean Lawson. He was carrying a briefcase and wearing a beautiful suit, something that had clearly been picked out by someone who knew more about fashion than Sean Lawson himself. His jawline was cut perfectly, his hair was rugged, rough, as if he’d just been hiking in the woods (and Charlotte knew this was something he enjoyed; she’d read it in a magazine).

And then, he flashed her that familiar, secretive smile—the same one she’d enjoyed all those years before, at Yale. She felt her stomach drop, like she was on the descent of the highest rollercoaster in the world.