I've been thinking about this job all day, and I’m no closer to making a decision.
Something’s standing in my way.
Orsomeone.
I know exactly what the problem is, but it’s so unlike me to put a man before my career. Relationships have always come second to my ambition—to the dismay of men everywhere.
This isn't who I am, and it’s borderline terrifying. I'm always the sensible one, analytical in all of my life choices.
But this thing with Tripp? All rationality and logic flew out of my head the second he kissed me the first time.
He’s become the bright spot in every part of my day. He’s warmth and sunshine—a stark contrast to the cold sterility of my life back home.
I bury my head in my pillow to muffle my sobs.
I’m not sure what to do with everything bubbling to the surface. Falling for Tripp Matthews was not part of my plan. And I’m quickly realizing that’s exactly what has happened.
All the neat little compartments in my brain are spilling across their carefully drawn borders. I can’t bear to face him, to continue this thing with him when everything inside me is so muddled and confused.
I wipe my tears and call the one person who might be able to talk some sense into me. Marlowe answers on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” My voice cracks, and I sniff, trying to hold it together.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, worry coloring her tone.
I tug my knees up to my chest, staring at the pink polish on my toes. “I don’t know,” I mumble.
She’s quiet aside from the faint rustle of her shifting, like she’s settling in to listen.
I twist a loose thread on the blanket and exhale shakily, my chest tight. “I think I’m falling for Tripp.”
She lets out a relieved breath, a soft laugh threading through it. “Well, look at you figuring it out on our own in less than twenty-four hours.”
I swallow past the lump of guilt scratching my throat. “But I’m not sure it makes a difference,” I admit, resting my head on my knees.
“Why not?”
“I can’t stand the thought of leaving, but…” I sigh, burying my face in my old pink blanket, searching for the comfort it used to bring. “I worked too hard for this. I should definitely take that job offer, right?”
There’s a quiet hum on the other end. “And why do you think you should take the job offer?”
The question hangs heavy. I hesitate too long, and she catches it immediately. “It’s your life, Quinn. You get to choose what’s important.”
“I can’t forget about my career aspirations just because I found a man who can actually find the clit.”
She chokes on a laugh. “Jesus, Quinn.” Her amusement is palpable, but her tone is gentle. “I’m not telling you to forget about your career, but you’ve spent your adult life singularly focused on your job. It’s okay that you found something else that matters to you now.”
I groan. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t even know if he feels the same way, or if I already ruined everything.”
“You’re smart, Quinn.” Her tone softens. “You’ll figure out where you’re meant to be.”
I blink up at the ceiling, wishing answers would appear in the cracks above me. “So, you’re not going to tell me what I should do?”
She scoffs. “Who do you think I am? Your mother?”
I let out a burst of laughter. “But I actuallywantyou to tell me what to do.”
