“Why do you need to go home again?” he asked, his lips brushing my ear and his forehead against my temple. I was pretty sure he was inhaling my scent like he was addicted to it. Which he always did. So maybe hewasaddicted to it.
“I’m supposed to meet with my boss and sign my contract for next semester in the morning,” I murmured back. They wanted me to sign for a few more years, but I’d told them I was only interested in agreeing to one semester at a time.
“I thought you weren’t sure about it.”
“I’m not.”
“But you’re going to sign it anyway?”
“I’m hoping I’ll have an epiphany about whether or not it’s the right thing to do when I pick up the pen.”
“Does that usually happen?”
“No. Tomorrow’s going to be a first.”
Finn didn’t say anything.
I was pretty sure he was thinking that sounded crazy.
It did sound crazy. I was well aware of that.
But what was the alternative? Quit a job I liked well enough without another one in sight? I still had a trust fund collectingdust—or cash, I suppose—so I didn’t technically need the money. What was I going to do with even more free time if I quit, though?
Yeah, sure, I liked having hobbies. I loved my not-wedding cakes, and doing Pilates once a week or so. I liked decorating, and thrift shopping, and painting walls fun colors.
I couldn’t do all that stuff full-time, though. I’d get bored, and I liked feeling like I was making a difference.
I had felt that way the most when I was teaching elementary school. I didn’t as much, now.
Finn didn’t say anything for a few minutes.
I tried to focus on the movie and failed.
He paused it, after a little while.
I was pretty sure I knew why, but I was going to let him come out with it.
“Do you… want to talk about it? Why you’re not sure if you want to sign?” He was obviously uncomfortable asking me the question, but he asked it anyway.
My chest squeezed.
I was already catching feelings, and I needed to tell him that. I just didn’t want to ruin what we had going on.
“Do you?” I asked. “It’s a pretty big decision. Are you sure you’re comfortable being involved, even just as far as a discussion?”
Finn hesitated.
With most guys, that would’ve answered the question for me. With him, I knew he was legitimately thinking about it.
“I’m sure,” he finally said.
I nodded, biting my bottom lip as I considered how to phrase my problem.
My lip popped free as I released it. “I miss working with kids. I felt like I mattered, when I did. I’m not saying I don’t value myself. I do. But I want to contribute to the world too, you know? To people. When I taught kindergarten, I was making a difference in some small way. It was exhausting, and I was burnt-out beyond belief when I quit, but I knew I made an impact.”
“Your professor job doesn’t feel like that?”
“Not really. It’s not awful, and I know it’s important, but I don’t feel like it is when I’m there. That sounds bad, doesn’t it?”
