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  “I got two job offers today.” I lead with facts and numbers. I learned to do that in a random college class that I took just to finish my generals. People have a hard time arguing numbers, and if you start a conversation with hard data, they’re typically more engaged in your words. You sound smarter. And God knows I need all the wisdom I can get.

  “Two?” She lifts a brow. “That’s amazing.”

  “Aerial asked me to take over the gym today. I think that’s amazing.”

  Mom’s eyes light up. “I actually think that’s wonderful.” She turns to the stove and puts on her oven mitts. She pulls two perfectly baked pies out and sets them on a cooling rack. “You’re so good with kids, honey. And the fact that Aerial trusts you to take over her namesake really says a lot about your reputation.” She plops the gloves down and turns to me. “I’m quite proud of you. You know that?”

  I nod. I try to smile. I attempt at finding a twig of excitement somewhere in my system as I make my second declaration. “I also got a call from Frank Selleck.”

  “He’s from your old company, right?”

  “Right. He is Mark’s boss. I worked with him a few times on special projects and in developing the new magazine.”

  She stills, watching me. It just makes me more nervous.

  “Frank basically said they screwed up and want me back. Now. Ten percent more money than the job I applied for plus all creative control, more or less.” I wait for a surge of adrenaline that doesn’t come. “This isn’t just my dream job, Mom—it’s the next level. This is the stuff that happens to other people.”

  I haven’t said it out loud until now. I stand by the refrigerator, which is covered in gaudy magnets and old pictures, and hope something I’ve just spouted off will hit me like a ton of bricks. That maybe this will start to feel less like a move to dread and more like something to feel energized about.

  Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

  Nothing.

  I try again.

  “This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

  Mom goes to the sink and rinses off her hands. “I know it is, and I’m happy they realized what they lost.”

  “Are you?”

  “Absolutely. I want you to have what you deserve. You deserve this. You’ve worked very hard for this opportunity, and if it’s what you want, then I’m thrilled for you, honey.”

  I wait for her to continue. When she doesn’t, I look at the ceiling. “But . . .”

  “But do you think, possibly, you deserve more than they’re offering you?”

  “They’re giving me a huge raise, Mom.”

  She smiles faintly. “I don’t mean financially.”

  The kettle is in her hand when I open my eyes. She begins to fill it at the sink, then sets it on a hot burner. My chest squeezes so tight I don’t know whether to yelp from the constriction or cry from the agony. I just know this isn’t what it’s supposed to feel like.

  “You keep telling yourself all the things you’ll gain from this new job,” she says. “You list them out like it’ll hit critical mass at some point and you’ll finally be convinced it’s the right choice.”

  “I don’t have to be convinced. It is the right choice.”

  “Fine,” she says. She stands on her tiptoes and pulls a box of tea bags out of the cabinet next to the spice rack. “It’s the right choice. But what does this job not give you? What do you have to give up to take it? That’s what I was saying when I said what if you deserve more.”

  My fingernail goes to my mouth, but I stop my finger midair. I turn it over and look at the nail as my heart sinks to my stomach. What will I give up? I cringe at the pain that settles in my chest.

  Manicures with Mia. Lazy evenings with Dane. Burgers at Mucker’s while Penn tells wild tales of his exploits, and hugs from Matt that feel as natural as breathing.

  Weekend drives along dirt roads and quiet mornings on the porch with coffee. Grocery stores that barely qualify and trips that require you to drive around old hound dogs lying in the middle of the road. Sunday potlucks and random conversations with Gary and margarita dates with my mom where she liquors me up to extract information.

  I’ll give up all of that.

  My heart splinters into a hundred jagged pieces as I get exactly what my mom is saying. The list of negatives is just as long or longer, if I’m being honest, than the list of positives. Why did I ever come back home? Why did I open this stupid door to start with?

  Mom places two mugs of tea on the table and takes a seat. I follow suit because I don’t have a better option.

  She lifts her mug to her lips and blows across the water. Steam whispers through the air, looking like a ballerina slipper, and I wonder if Mia would see it too.

  “What are you going to do about Dane?” Mom asks. “Have you told him?”

  I shake my head. A lump sits at the base of my throat, and I’m not sure I can speak over it. It feels like it’s blocking off all my air and if it moves, I’ll puke instead of breathe.

  “Maybe it’s because I’m an old woman, but I was hoping things were working out between you two.”

  I force the lump to the side and wait for the bile to settle. Finally, when I feel like it’s safe, I try to explain it. “Things are working out. That’s the problem.” I frown. “He’s great. Mia is great. I even turned down a job last week because of them.”

  Mom flinches. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I did. It was a decent offer, but it didn’t seem worth it to take. I was sort of mulling it over, and Mia called me to her bedroom and asked me to go . . .” I can’t say it. I hiccup the last words and blink back red-hot tears. When I finally am able to look at my mom, there are tears streaming down her cheeks too. “Don’t cry,” I tell her.

  “You’re crying.” She sniffles. “If you hurt, I hurt.”

  “I hurt by my own choice. They’re going to hurt by it too.”

  A tear rolls down my cheek and splashes in the tea. I watch the water ripple around the droplet.

  “They’ll understand. If this job is what you want, then you have to take it, Neely.”

  “If I don’t take this, I’ll always regret it. I could stay here, marry Dane, and in ten years, look at him and blame him that I gave up on myself. I can’t do that, Mom. I can’t do that to me or to him. It’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s not fair to either of you.” She puts her mug on the table. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll do the right thing. I have more faith in you than I’ve ever had in anyone in my life.”

  We sit quietly for a long time. Mom gives me space to work through things in my head, but I don’t do that. I’m not sure I can. I certainly don’t feel the faith in myself that I can get through this.

  The thought of telling Dane what’s happening is enough to have me running to the bathroom and vomiting in the toilet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  NEELY

  I scan the flights to New York. There are a couple departing late tomorrow that look good and a few the next morning. I close the lid to my computer and rest my head against my pillows.

  It’s so odd to think I’ll be back in my apartment in a matter of hours. As I glance around the room and listen to my mother banging around in the kitchen, I realize how acclimated I’ve become to this place. To this lifestyle.

  Despite the stress on my shoulders, I haven’t felt this relaxed in forever. Everything here happens at such a crawling pace compared with the city, and while I thought it would be boring, it’s kind of nice. It’s fun to wave at the neighbors in the morning, and the constants in life here—Blue in the road, unstable Wi-Fi, and a fish special at the Dogwood Café on Fridays—are much more pleasant than the constants of city life.

  A part of me wishes Frank hadn’t called. I feel guilty for thinking that, especially after wishing for this job for so long. But if he hadn’t, I’d be at Dane’s right now doing something with him and Mia.

  I don’t know how to tell him I’m leaving. I almost don’t
have the courage to do it face-to-face, even though I know I have to. The thought of him looking sad or lonely slays me, but to think of him angry with me for leaving breaks me apart.

  As if he knows I’m thinking about him, his name flashes on my phone. I consider letting it ring but know that’s the wrong thing to do. I need to be an adult.

  “Hey,” I say into the line.

  “Want to meet us for ice cream?” Dane asks. “The girl here wants this new flavor where they hide actual bubble gum pieces in the cone. Totally gross, in my opinion, but she’s demanding it.”

  “Come with us!” Mia shouts from what I’m guessing is the back seat.

  My stomach twists in a tight, intricate knot—one I know I won’t be uncoiling anytime soon.

  I hop off the bed and pace my room. “I was going to call you,” I say.

  “Oh yeah? What about?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Well, we’ll pick you up and we can talk over ice cream.”

  “The ice cream cone will be erect!” Mia giggles.

  I can’t help but smile despite the heavy loneliness that’s settling over my heart. “Um, I wanted to talk to you in private, actually. Can I meet you somewhere?”

  The line gets quiet. With each passing moment, my anxiety soars higher. I imagine the look on his face, the look on Mia’s, the conversations that need to be had and had soon.

  I can still taste the bile in my throat from getting sick. That, coupled with the way my stomach is churning now, has me heading back toward the bathroom just in case.

  “I can see if Haley can come by and watch Mia, if you need me to.” There’s more than a dose of caution in his tone.

  “Can you?”

  “Yeah. Where do you want to meet?”

  “The bluff?”

  “Give me thirty.”

  “I’ll see you then.” I end the call and get sick all over again.

  Dane’s truck is already parked when I arrive. He’s standing by the little stone wall that I’ve always thought was constructed to keep people from falling over the edge of the hill. He doesn’t look back as I pull up and doesn’t act like he hears the engine shut off. I don’t bother to get out quickly because until I do, this thing between us isn’t over.

  His back ripples under the green shirt that’s stretched across his torso. He moves slightly, slipping a hand in a pocket. I say a silent prayer for strength and guidance before exiting the car.

  The air is a few degrees cooler than it has been. The leaves seem a little more yellow too. I bet this place is spectacular in the fall, and the fact that I won’t see it with Dane pokes me right in the heart.

  “Hey,” I say, coming up behind him.

  He gives me a small smile. “Hey.”

  I want to protect him from what I’m about to say, to wrap my arms around him and plant my lips against his chest. But how unfair would that be? To be that close to him in such a caring embrace when I’m about to tell him I’m leaving him. Again.

  “You can kind of feel autumn coming, can’t you?” I ask. “Some of the leaves look more yellow today than they have, I think.”

  “I guess.”

  “It’ll be a beautiful backdrop for Mia’s barbecues up here.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure it will.” He turns to face me, his jaw flexing. “What’s going on, Neely?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He rolls his eyes as he shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know. You had me meet you up here, alone, and I didn’t get the feeling it was to hang out. Maybe I’m wrong. I hope to hell I’m wrong.”

  “I just wanted to talk to you without Mia being around.” I walk around, kicking at rocks, wishing I could disappear and be done with this. “What’s she doing tonight?”

  “She and Haley are watching a movie at the house.” He flips me a cocked brow. “She’s hoping you’re coming by later.”

  I nod, wanting to say I wish that, too, but I look away. “Dane,” I say, the words coated with unshed tears. “I have to tell you something.”

  I wait for him to respond, to say something—anything—but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move a muscle.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” I ask.

  He studies me. “If this is going where I think it’s going, I’m not about to help you do it.”

  “Dane . . .”

  His temple pulses, a bead of sweat forming along his brow as he looks at me. “What is it? Just tell me so we can stop playing this game.”

  “This isn’t a game.”

  “I fucking hope not.”

  “I got a job offer,” I choke out. “In New York.”

  “And you turned it down. I know.”

  I shake my head side to side. “I got another one. At my old company.”

  “So? Like you’d go back to work for a company that treated you like shit.”

  “It was a misunderstanding,” I tell him.

  His laugh is anything but amused. His eyes are so cold they almost pierce me. “A misunderstanding, huh? How long did it take them to realize they made a mistake?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “No, you know what? You’re not like that. The woman I know would stick to what she believes in. Look at us,” he says. “I fucked you over, and you didn’t come home for almost ten fucking years. You wouldn’t work for a company that treated you like that.”

  “They apologized,” I tell him. “You didn’t.”

  He looks away. I wait for him to respond, to somehow open a door and make this easier, but every second that passes shows me he’s not about to make this easy.

  I take a deep breath. “I took the job, Dane.”

  His eyes go from ice cold to red hot.

  “You what?” He looks at me like I’m speaking Swahili, like he can’t understand the words I’m using. “You’re leaving?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He spits the words with an edge of fury that has me flinching.

  “I’m not. I’m sorry.”

  He takes off his beloved Dodgers hat and sends it sailing over the bluff. His hands go straight to his hair, tugging at it with both hands. When he turns to me, his face is beet red, a vein pulsing in his temple.

  I want to reach for him, to wrap myself around him and somehow make this better. But I can’t because there’s no way to make this easier. For either of us.

  He paces a circle, his nostrils flaring. “You’re leaving us? Now?”

  “I have to,” I insist. Tears flow down my cheeks as I wish I had a way to make this all stop. To pause time and live forever in this moment, minus the bomb I just dropped. “It’s a great opportunity—”

  “It’s a fucking job, Neely.” He glowers.

  “It’s a job that means something to me.”

  He throws his head back. “I’m glad you stick to your guns about things that really mean something to you.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “No.” He looks at me with a ferocity that knocks me a few steps back. “You don’t get to play that card. You leaving us for a fucking job means it’s exactly what you meant.”

  “Dane . . .” I wipe away the tears with the backs of my hands. “I told you from the beginning I wasn’t staying here.”

  “Maybe. But you led me on. You rejected one job. What was I supposed to think? Huh?”

  “Dane . . .”

  “Don’t ‘Dane’ me!” His voice echoes over the bluff.

  “What was I supposed to do? Stay here and give everything up? For what? You? Mia? Neither of you are mine, Dane.”

  The fury in his eyes softens just a bit, enough to make me drag in a lungful of air. He stands in front of me, his hair a wild mess and his chest rising and falling at warp speed.

  “Believe it or not, I try to do what’s right,” he says, his tone a few octaves lower than before.

  “And so do I. And right now I have to do what’s right for me. Is it wrong that I don’t want to gi
ve up everything I’ve wanted, everything I’ve worked for, for a possibility with you?”

  He fires a look my way that I can’t quite read.

  “Would you want to come to New York with me?” I offer, knowing damn good and well he won’t.

  “No.”

  My shoulders sag. “But you expect me to stay here.”

  Give me a reason. Just a little bit will be enough. Just something to hold on to.

  He shrugs. “You know what? You’d just leave anyway.”

  “That’s not fair. Or true,” I say, my voice wobbly.

  “You left before—”

  “You made me!”

  “Fine,” he says, his chest shaking with anger. “I made you. Maybe I make all women leave me. You. Katie. Sara. You’re better off going, I guess.”

  My hand trembles as I point a finger at him, my vision blurred by white-hot tears. “You can’t lump me in with them. We were different. You are why we didn’t work.”

  “Then. And you are why now.” He turns toward his truck but doesn’t move his feet. He just watches me over his shoulder as I break.

  I crouch down and hold my head in my hands. I cry harder than I’ve ever cried. I cry so hard I think I might break in half.

  “If you cared as much as you’re letting on, you wouldn’t go,” he says. “It’s really that simple.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I sob. Standing up again, my body still shaking with the force of the tears, I look at the gorgeous man in front of me. “I’ve wanted this my entire life, Dane. How am I supposed to not take a chance of a lifetime?”

  “This,” he says, motioning between us, “was what I’ve wanted my entire life. This was my chance of a lifetime.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “You have your truth. I have mine.” He turns his back to me and heads toward the truck.

  Panic bubbles inside me as I chase after him. The closer he gets to the truck, the sooner he’ll be gone—probably forever this time. The thought of it, despite knowing it must happen, has me running faster.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I cry.

  He stops at the front of the truck. His lips are twisted as he settles his gaze on me. “You can’t even see what really matters anymore. Should Mia have given you some kind of award instead of a bracelet?” He glares at me. “I let you in our life. In our home.”