It’s a sad smile that plays upon my lips as I roll it up in newspaper and place it in the box labeled Storage. This will be saved alongside all the other precious memories I have of my parents.
I pack extra crumpled newspaper around the vase and seal up the box with two strips of packing tape. I carry it to the edge of the living room and set it down with the other four boxes also bound for storage. Across the room sit eleven more boxes. They’re going to charity.
The living room is now empty, except for the furniture—which will also be donated—but I’m keeping the azure-and-saffron silk rug my father bought my mother when they traveled to Turkey. If I ever have my own house, it will go in my living room.
Putting my hands against my lower back, I stretch backward to alleviate some of the tightness there. I’ve been packing up my parents’ house for the past six days, and this is the last room. My body is feeling it, but so is my heart. The decision to sell didn’t come lightly.
In fact, I’m still struggling with whether I’ve made the right call. It’s hard to cut ties with my past in this way, but I remind myself I have their memories and some precious mementos that maybe I’ll hand down to my children one day.
What really fueled my desire to sell was knowing that I have to set my life on a new course, and if I keep this house, it will be my excuse to not make changes. I’ve held on to it the last four years as a crutch to stay in a life that really held no true joy.
Now… I have to decide what to do with this new, unencumbered life.
The clear and obvious choice is Ladd. But within that choice, there are other choices to make. He wants me to come to Pittsburgh, and I have a job offer with Jameson.
Yet Director Rasmussen was so impressed with how I went after Mejia and brought to light treason within his own agency, he’s offered me Gayla Newman’s position as the director of operations for Central and South America. This would be the ultimate career move for me, and while some travel would be necessary, it would mostly be a desk job in Langley.
Best of all, Langley is but a four-hour drive from Pittsburgh and a mere one-hour flight. Ladd and I could manage a relationship in two different cities. We did just fine when we were together before and both working for the CIA.
But is that really the life I want? Would Ladd be satisfied with it?
I won’t know until I have the talk with Ladd that he’s been pushing me to have for the last week. I know he thinks I’m putting him off because I don’t want to talk about these things, and he may even think I’m too scared to commit, but that’s not the truth at all.
I want to talk in the same room—sitting on a couch and maybe drinking a glass of wine. Or naked in a bed. Or walking along a beach. It has to be together where we can look each other in the eye and be forever without doubt that we want the same thing.
Getting my parents’ house ready for sale has given me the opportunity to have some time alone, to find clarity in my wants and needs, and to make provisional decisions. It’s also my last tie to my old life, and as much as I’m going to miss this place, the memories of it will never die. I want a clean break, and I want to start the next chapter of my life.
With the last of the boxes packed up, and the real estate agent coming tomorrow for me to sign a representation agreement, I’ll be free to figure out all the other things that need my attention.
I’ll get on a plane, fly to Pittsburgh, and I’ll look Ladd in the eye. Then I’ll make a decision.
It will be him—meaning, I choose him.
It’s just how we’re going to make it work that needs some ironing. I have a few needs of my own, and I need to make sure he can meet them. I need to make sure I can give him what he deserves.
My stomach rumbles, and I glance at my watch. It’s well past lunchtime, and I didn’t eat breakfast. There’s nothing in the fridge or the cupboards, and if I eat delivery pizza one more time, I’ll puke.
Resolved to grab a sandwich from a local deli, I pop into the restroom to wash my hands. I tighten my ponytail and scrutinize myself in the mirror. I don’t need makeup for a local deli run, but I decide a little lip gloss is never a bad idea.
Lips properly shiny, I nab my purse from the foyer table and open the door. My head is down as I try to pull my keys out when I run straight into a mountain of a person.
My first instinct is it’s an intruder—despite it being broad daylight and the hit by Vecindario 18 called off—and I go into self-defense mode.
Rather, attack mode.
Dropping my purse, I let a back-fist fly without thought or hesitation for there is no reason for a man to be at my door. But it’s caught in a hard grip just inches from his nose.
Ladd’s nose.
My eyes widen as I take him in—lips curved in an amused smirk that I would try to hit him without provocation—but more so because he’s faster than I am.
His blue eyes darken from humor to desire, and he uses the grip on my wrist to jerk me into him. He kisses me hard, and I kiss him right back.
A sigh that sounds a lot like relief expels from him, and I pull back, guessing that he, too, had doubts up until this very moment.
Pulling my wrist free, I put both my hands to his face and stretch on tiptoes. “I was getting on a plane tomorrow to come see you.”
“I couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” he replies, and kisses me again.
And this time, it’s not a kiss of relief but of desire. He pulls my entire body to him and on the front porch of my home, in full view of the neighbors, proceeds to kiss me passionately and without reservation.
I’m breathless when his lips lift from mine, calculating how quickly we can make it to my bedroom.
But he says the words that are like a bucket of cold water. “We need to talk.”
And he’s right. We do. “Want to go sit out back by the koi pond?”
He shakes his head. “This conversation shouldn’t be long enough to warrant a trip out there.”
“Because we simply need to make a decision,” I say.
“Right,” he agrees, taking my hands in his. “I mean… we already love each other.”
“We do.” I chuckle because that was about the most unromantic way for us to reaffirm our feelings, but honestly, the fact he came to save me in El Salvador clued me in.
Taking a deep breath, Ladd says, “I want to support you in whatever you want to do. If you want to stay with the CIA, I’ll go wherever you go. I know it’s your dream.”
His words touch me so deeply because I know what he’d be giving up. He’d be giving up important time with his son, and that thought is unbearable to me, so it must be excruciating for him.
I shake my head. “You’re my dream, Ladd. Not the CIA. You were my dream all those years ago, but I didn’t realize it. I was young and stupid and had no understanding of how life works. I screwed up, and I’m not about to let that happen again. The CIA is nothing but a job. It plays no part in the things I truly need in my life.”
“But they’ve offered you the director position,” he points out. “That’s a huge move and big money.”
I shrug. “I heard Jameson is a pretty great place to work.”
“You’re considering that?” he asks, and for someone trained to be secretive, his expression tells me he’s hopeful that Pittsburgh is my main consideration. It all revolves around Ethan.