“Well. I got the job.”
“You got the job?” she asks with excitement.
“Yup,” I say. “I’ll get the formal offer tomorrow and if that looks good . . .” My words trail off.
If that looks good, then what?
“So, are you going to take it?” Luna asks. She says it like she knows it’s more difficult that just wanting a job and getting the job and taking the job.
But it shouldn’t be, right?
A week ago, I would jump at this opportunity.
I sigh.
But now . . .
“I don’t know. I don’t . . .”
Silence fills the air as I try and think of how to explain the chaos that is my thoughts.
“Is it what you want?” she asks, her voice low.
I pause again, still trying to figure out how to answer.
“I thought it was,” I say, my voice low.
“But . . . ,” Sadie says, feeling the word coming.
I grab my drink, twisting the plastic cup to stir it, the ice making a satisfying noise as I do.
“But what if all this time, I’ve been living a boring life?” I ask under my breath.
Because if I learned anything in the last week, it’s that I’ve been living the last fifteen years of my life for my parents.
And for society.
Trying to please everyone and be impressive and climb some metaphorical ladder.
I realize now every rung has made me more and more miserable.
“That’s not a what if, Zo,” Luna says, her voice not mean, but cajoling. “That’s a definitive.”
This actually shocks me.
Because Luna never questions what I do, what choices I make. If nothing else, Luna is the world’s best hype girl, always supporting my every move, even if it’s not one she would take herself.
“What?”
“You’ve been living the most boring life known to man,” she says, and Sadie nods in agreement.
“I live in the city,” I say defensively. Both women roll their eyes.
“Lived. You lived in the city. Not that it mattered because you only worked while you were there. And you lived with the most boring man alive. And you never did anything fun.” I narrow my eyes at her.
“Yes, I did,” I say, crossing my arms on my chest.
“When?” Luna asks instantly.
I stop and think.
Fuck.
I can’t think of a single “fun” thing I’ve done in the city in the last six months, at least.
And I know damn well that if I use the one time in the last year that the girls came to visit and forced me to go to a karaoke bar, they won’t accept that answer.
There was lots of emphasis on forced.
“I just went on a giant road trip!” I say, deciding that was definitely fun.
“Because my brother forced you,” Luna says, raising her eyebrow.
There’s silence because that cuts—the reminder of Zander.
Luna sighs, seeing that and understanding the way only a best friend can.
“I’ve known you my entire life, Zoe. You are fun and carefree but you’re also . . . not. You used to be. And then you graduated and you started working hard, which is amazing, don’t get me wrong. If it made you happy, you know I’d be the first in line to encourage you. But you don’t seem . . . happy.”
“I am happy, Lune,” I say quietly. “I’ve got great friends and a great family. I’m happy.” I bite my lip and it feels like I’m trying to keep a lie in, to stop myself from adding a but.
“I’m not saying it like that. I’m just saying . . . you used to have too many great ideas for design. You used to walk into a restaurant and start whispering to me what you’d do different.” This conversation sounds so familiar.
“You’ve talked to Zander,” I say, accusing her.
“I have,” she says. “But he just confirmed what I already knew.”
I don’t ask her to elaborate.
I don’t need her to.
“You know, I need to redo this place,” Sadie says, wiping down the countertop, repeating what she brought up earlier. “Business is growing and with Kate on staff, I have more time for other things. I did this place on such a tight budget and honestly, I hate half of it.”
My heart skips a beat.
“If you have some time while you’re here, I’d love to talk to you about hiring you to design Rise and Grind.”
This time, my heart stops completely.
“Sadie, you don’t have to—”
“I want to. I want to hire an expert. I insist on paying you. You could test it out. See if you like doing that.”
My breathing quickens, my palms going sweaty despite the iced drink in my hand.
“And since I know you’d kill it, once you do an amazing job and you set yourself up, I know a handful of other businesses who need design work too. We all meet at the Chamber of Commerce once a month for small business meetings. Every single month, someone asks for recommendations for interior design. So many of the businesses in Springbrook Hills are outdated, and with the new camp and the school getting more funding thanks to Dean applying for grants and whatnot, more people are coming here.”
Sweat forms on the back of my neck now.
I can’t decide if it’s panic or excitement or maybe I’m coming down with a cold.
Who the hell knows.
“The motel needs a whole revamp. I spoke with Edith last week and she’s been saving up.”
The motel in town is grimy and a little creepy but it’s owned by the sweetest old woman.
“She wants it to be in good standing when she hands it off to her son. That way, when she’s gone, he can either sell it easily or not have to worry about redoing it.”
“You could work with Tanner and Jordan,” Luna suggests, her voice low. “I was talking to her recently. They’re looking to expand Coleman and Sons. Start doing remodels.”
I can’t pull air into my lungs.
Have you ever felt like the universe is giving you exactly what you want but you aren’t sure if you’re ready to take it? Or even more, it’s giving you what you didn’t even realize you wanted?
That’s where I’m at.
A week with Zander, two weeks after cracking open the box that was supposed to manifest all of my hopes and dreams and well . . .
Even more, it seems like the universe is giving me what I want and a plan for how to make it happen. A plan for how to make sure I’ll be successful.
“We can talk about it later. I can see it’s freaking you out,” Sadie says.
“It’s not—”
“It’s okay. Just think about it, okay? And by that, Zoe, I mean all of it.”
I know she means Zander.
I know she’s not just talking about some job.
But still, I nod.
I nod and I drink my coffee and I tell her and Luna the (PG) stories from my road trip and for another hour or so, I continue to play pretend.
I frame my stories like it was a fun road trip with a man I’m crazy for and that my life isn’t in shambles.
As I drive off back to my parents’ house, I can’t help but wonder if I’m even really playing pretend anymore.
FORTY-SIX