“Sawyer.” Wren says my name with a decent dose of exasperation. “You’re on vacation.”
“I know. I just want to keep up with what’s happening in the office.”
I’m four months into working at the Manhattan office of one of the top naval architecture firms in the country. And the only downside I’ve discovered to your life including more than you ever dared to dream of? The terror of losing it never disappears. Wren and I have been officially dating for over three years, and I still marvel every morning that she’s the person I wake up next to.
I’m not entirely convinced that fear is a bad thing. I think the day I wake up and simply accept how wonderfully my life has turned out would be cause for concern. But, yeah, it also means I’m checking on projects during vacation in the hopes that it means Hudson & Cox will never think they made a mistake, hiring me.
“Were you talking to your mom?”
“Gus.”
“How is he?”
“Good.” My hands have warmed to a normal temperature, so I twine my fingers with hers. “Busy. Midterms.”
“I don’t miss that.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
“Do you miss other parts?”
“Of Lancaster?”
She nods, pom-pom brushing my cheek.
“No.”
I don’t have to think about my answer. I liked college. I made great friends. I earned a degree I’m using daily. But I prefer my current life, not least because it includes a lot more Wren.
“You sure?”
“Very sure. I love my job. Your place?—”
“Our place,” she interjects.
I smile, even though she can’t see it. “Our place is way nicer than anywhere I lived at Lancaster. Also, it’s a relief to see that student loan number go down instead of up.”
Wren hums.
I tighten my hold on her. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For lots. And for saying nothing just now.”
“You came on this trip without asking me how much it cost. Compromise.”
I kiss the top of her head. “Compromise.”
I’m never going to feel comfortable with how much wealth Wren has. I’ve accepted that. We’ve found a middle ground on most things, after arguments on several topics, such as her repeated offers to pay off my student loans. Wren agreed to a maximum amount on gifts—there’sno way this trip didn’t blow past that number, but it’s the first time she has, and I guess I’ll only graduate college once, so it can qualify as an exception. Rather than pay all the utilities, like I was planning to, living rent-free since she owns her penthouse, I conceded we could split them.
Not only is the concept of never having to worry about money a foreign one to me, but it’s a factor of the question I—and no doubt many other people—have wondered:What the hell is Wren Kensington doing with me?But if it’s a choice between being perceived as the “breadwinner” in a relationship and a life with Wren? I’ll pick her. Every time.
“Do you miss Cambridge?” I ask.
“God, no,” she replies faster than I did.
I laugh, watching it turn to white vapor before dissipating entirely. “Too much rain?”
