For a brief, foolish moment, I had imagined what it would be like to share this space with someone. With Jordan. I’d pictured his coffee mug on my nightstand, his books mixed with mine on the shelf, the way the morning light might look different with someone beside me.
The fantasy feels ridiculous now.
My email inbox shows the usual collection of promotional messages and automated responses, but one subject line makes me sit up straighter:Second Interview — Marketing Coordinator Position — Houser & Associates.
My pulse quickens as I open the email.
Dear Ms. Costello,
Thank you for your interview last Tuesday. We were impressed with your experience and would like to invite you back for a second interview with our creative director and account management team.
Would you be available next Friday at 2:00 p.m.? This would be the final step in our hiring process, and we’re hoping to make a decision by the end of next week.
The position offers excellent benefits, a competitive salary, and growth opportunities within our expanding team.
Please confirm your availability at your earliest convenience.
Best regards, Allan Hollandsworth, Human Resources Manager
I read the email twice, my heart racing. At least seventy thousand dollars starting salary, based on what Allan had mentioned during our first interview. Full benefits. A real marketing position.
This could be it. The opportunity I’ve been waiting for. The chance to get my career back on track and provide real stability for Ash and me.
But it would also mean leaving Jordan and Henry. Walking away from the daily routine that’s become so important to both Ash and me.
From Jordan, whom I can’t seem to stop caring about, despite his determination to keep me at arm’s length.
My phone buzzes with another text from Jordan:Just finished. Heading home now. Thank you for staying late again.
I glance at the clock. Ten twenty p.m., and Henry has been asleep for over an hour.
The email from Houser & Associates glows on my screen, waiting for an answer.
It’s time to stop waiting for Jordan to figure out what matters. Maybe this interview is exactly the escape route I’ve been looking for.
CHAPTER 24
JORDAN
The afternoon sun filters through the trees in the hospital’s courtyard, but even the warmth on my face can’t lift the weight pressing down on my shoulders. I stare at my untouched sandwich while Dr. Ferrera leans back in his chair, studying me with the kind of concern that makes me want to disappear.
“You know what you need?” Ferrera says, his voice gentle but persistent. “You need to get out of here this weekend. Come fishing with me and Mark. Fresh air, no beepers, no emergencies.”
“I can’t,” I say automatically, though I’m not even sure why. It’s not like I have plans.
“Come on, Jordan. When’s the last time you did something just for yourself?” Ferrera’s expression is earnest. “I know things have been rough with Amy and taking care of Henry. You need a break.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, taking a bite of the sandwich that tastes like cardboard.
“Long week, more like it. You’ve been pulling some serious hours since you came back.” Dr. Abrams slides into the chair across from me, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Everything okay at home?”
Home. The word hits me harder than it should.
“Fine. Just getting back into the swing of things.”
But it’s not fine, and I’m definitely not getting back into any kind of swing. For the past week and a half, I’ve thrown myself back into work with the kind of intensity that used to energize me. Fourteen-hour days, emergency consults, research projects that keep me at the hospital until Henry is already asleep.
This used to be my life. This used to be enough.
