I groaned, trying to bury myself in the pillow. Shayna was persistently hovering, holding a glass of water and two pills like offerings to a feeble god.
“No.”
“Yes.” The glass met the nightstand with a definitive click. “Sit up. Listen.”
I obeyed, moving on an automaton’s will. The water was a blessing; the pills were… whatever comes after a blessing. Shayna sat on the sofa next to me, all business.
“Jordan called. He pulled a favor. There’s an interview today at two p.m. Director of Development forNew Beginnings—the girls’ home network I told you about.”
The words cut through the fog. A job. An interview. A chance.
“They need someone who can write grants, manage donors, and not break down at hearing hard stories. Someone with a corporate brain and a real heart. Sound like anyone you know?”
I stared at my hands in my lap. These hands had orchestrated corporate takeovers. Had clutched Julian’s sheets. Had signed divorce papers.
Could they hold something gentle? Could I choose something that wasn’t profit or obligation… and not fuck it up? The fear was immediate and cold.
“I… I don’t have a résumé for that.”
“Jordan put in a good word for you, and I may have cooked up your résumé a bit…” A tiny, smug smile touched her lips. “They’re interested. So you have four hours to turn this sad-sack vibe into a ‘capable powerhouse who just needed a sabbatical to realign her purpose.’”
Four hours. The hangover pulsed behind my eyes. The echo of last night’s despair still whispered in my veins, but beneath it, I felt a spark.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. It was the truest, simplest thing I’d said in weeks.
“Good,” Shayna said, standing. “Be scared, but do it anyway.” She fixed me with a look that was pure, uncompromising love. “No more pity parties, Elara. The guests have left. The wine is gone. All that’s left is you and the empty space. Getting drunk by yourself is sad.”
She left, stepping out the front door in her power suit. I sat in the aftermath.
“Okay,” I whispered long after she was gone. “You can do this, Elara.”
It felt as thin as a lie—but it was a start. And that was the beginning of the version of me I eventually wanted to take back home to Julian.
Chapter 43
Elara
Jordan took me to an Ethiopian spot in Silver Spring I liked. He sat across from me, rollinginjerabetween his fingers, watching me. He’d been the perfect friend. But I knew what he wanted, so I’d been avoiding dinners like this unless his sister was around. Tonight, I couldn’t say no.
He set his glass down and leaned in. Candlelight caught the warmth in his eyes. “You know, Ellie… I’ve been patient. I’ve respected the process.” His smile was easy, confident. “But it’s been eight months. We spend all this time together. I’m wondering if it could be something more.”
I put my fork down.Absolutely not, I thought. He felt like a brother to me. But he was Shayna’s brother. I’d be kind. Clear.
“Jordan,” I said, my voice steady. “You’ve been an incredible friend. But that’s what you are. My friend. That’s all.”
His smile didn’t fade. “Come on. Never say never. We’ve got history. Chemistry.”
He was wrong. What he saw as chemistry was me remembering him at seven, trailing after Shayna and me. I met his gaze. “You’re seeing friendship. You’re not seeing what’s in my heart. Because my heart isn’t here to give.”
“Because of him?” he asked, not offended. Amused.
“Yeah. Because of him.”And even if it wasn’t him, it still wouldn’t be you, I kept to myself. No man wanted to hear that.
He laughed—easy, warm. He had women chasing him all over the DMV; my "no" wasn’t a loss. “A man you haven’t seen in eight months?”
“Yes.”
He studied me for a second, then shrugged, raising his glass. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. To the one who got away. Twice.”
