Clayton sighs. “I’ve been chill with you working remote for years, bud. I never even asked you to turn your camera on for meetings. But this is different. Meow Mobile has reached an inflection point.”
I dig my nails into the countertop. “Will you quit the corporate speak? Your whole shtick has been connecting rural communities. Are you dissolving the company?”
He snorts. “The company’s been running on fumes. Can you come down here so I can show you some shit in real time?”
I stare out the window at Pierce Acres and Bedd Fellows Farm—the community that now relies entirely on this company, based on my reputation and recommendation in bringing it here. I certainly don’t have the ability to keep this thing going on my own, and I owe it to these folks to keep Gran active on TikTok at least.
I groan. “How long will this take?”
“Jesus, Asher. A week. Maybe two. Depends on how the meetings go.” Clayton’s voice softens. “I know this is bad timing. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t critical.”
That word calls up doctor visits and beeping machines. I’ve seen critical before. “I’ll hop on a train.”
“Great. I’ll email you some reading material.” He hesitates. “Thank you, Asher. I mean it. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“Yeah.” We hang up. I stand in my kitchen, phone in hand, and try to process what just happened. Twenty-four hours ago, I was sitting across from Eva, watching her face in the candlelight, thinking about the future. Twelve hours ago, I was inside her, feeling more connected to another person than I have in my entire life.
And now I’m the one leaving.
The coffee maker beeps. I pour a cup I don’t really want and take a sip, burning my tongue.
I should wake Eva and drop this bomb, but I can’t figure out what words to say. I am not ready for this to end. How can I tell her I need to leave to beg for my job when I just shut her out for fear of her leaving?
It’s not an ending. I’ll come back. If I repeat this often enough, its truth will sink in. Without this job, I have nothing… nothing I can do in Fork Lick, anyway. No degree or experience outside of Meow Mobile, and it’s not like the Catskills are a hotbed of tech careers.
Besides that, the thought of leaving Eva makes my body clench and my ears pop.
I’m still standing there, staring at my coffee, when I hear footsteps in the hallway. I turn around to find Eva in the doorway wearing my shirt from last night and nothing else but a satisfied smile. She looks incredible with sleepy eyes and rumpled hair. She’s gorgeous and totally at home in my space, and this is, I realize, all I want in the world. My entire nervous system fries clenches in fear of this pending tumult.
“There you are,” she says, her voice rough with sleep. “I woke up, and you were gone. Thought maybe you’d made a run for it.”
“Never.”
She smiles and pads toward me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her face into my chest. “Mmm. You made coffee. You’re perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“You are to me.” She tilts her head for a kiss, and I give it to her, soft and slow. She tastes like morning and sleep and all my hopes and dreams.
When we break apart, she frowns slightly. “You okay? You seem tense.”
I should tell her. Right now. Just say it. But she’s looking at me with those eyes, and she’s warm in my arms, and I want five more minutes of this. Five more minutes before reality intrudes.
“Just thinking,” I say.
“Dangerous.” She pulls back and eyes the coffee maker. “Is there enough for me?”
“Always.” I pour her a cup while she settles onto one of my kitchen stools, tucking her bare legs underneath her. She looks around my kitchen—at the sparse counters, the minimal decor, the general air of a space that’s functional but not really lived in.
“You need plants,” she announces.
“Plants?”
“This place is too sterile. Plants would help.” She sips her coffee. “Gran said she has some cuttings. And when my sisters come, I’ll have them bring some spider babies for you. Eila has enough succulents to populate a jungle.”
I snort. “Are there even succulents in a jungle climate?”
“Very funny, Mr. Horticulture.” She’s talking about the future. About bringing things into my house, making it more like hers. Like she’s planning to be here for a while. The guilt twists deeper.
