“You know me better than that.”
“I do,” I agree, my palms on his chest.
Will pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “I would wait until your B Corp Certification came through and then set you up with the second-best consultant you’ll ever have.”
I smile and say, “I don’t think it’s crazy. I think it’s miraculous. I sometimes wonder how much of myself I let corporate America take. How much I could take back if I stopped participating.”
“I know what you mean,” Will murmurs.
“You always know what I mean.”
It’s quiet for a moment. A string of Grace Jones lyrics floods the empty space. The longer whatever is in the oven bakes, the more sugared and perfect the kitchen smells. Will noses along my jawline, kissing lightly.
“Have you ever seen those soft living videos on TikTok?” I ask.
Will’s eyes narrow as he pulls back. “Wait a minute. Do you haveburner accounts?”
“No, but sometimes the social team lets the password slip, and I scroll!”
He blinks. “No shot. Admit you have burner accounts.”
“IswearI don’t,” I say. “If I did, I’d never get anything done. You can check my phone.”
Will eyes me suspiciously. “Well, regardless, I don’t know about the soft living videos.”
“It’s these people who live in quaint houses overlooking the ocean or the middle of a mountain range and they just…” I gesticulate with my hands. “Pick lavender and bake sourdough and write a novel on a typewriter and bird-watch! Or crack open coconuts they drink on the beach while watching the sunset. Or build furniture with their bare hands!”
“Baking sourdough,” Will says, wincing, “is really fucking hard. The rest of it sounds all right. Are you interested in soft living?”
“I think about it sometimes,” I admit. “When I’m stressed out. Or second-guessing myself, or wondering if this is all worth how much it drains me.”
Will rubs a thumb along my jawline, his eyes absorbing the planes of my face. “How often does that happen?”
“Not very.”
“And now?”
I smile, meeting his eyes. “Camila finally told me she’s leaving.”
His face morphs from curious to concerned. “She did?”
I nod. “She’s moving to New York so David can open a restaurant he gets full creative control over, and she can go to graduate school.”
Will’s hands drop to my bare thighs, where he rubs soothingly. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones with these kinds of thoughts.”
“Burnout avoidance,” I suggest.
After a moment of consideration Will says, in a gruff voice, “I already burned out, Josie. That happened a couple years back.”
“I think I did, too,” I whisper. “But I only just noticed.”
He presses his lips against my forehead. “I want to make you a deal,” he whispers.
“What deal?”
“If you wake up one morning and decide you want to try out soft living,” he says, breath dancing along the wisps at my hairline, “we do it together. Even if it’s only for a little while. If you want to drop everything, then I will, too.”
It’s an idea that stuffs me with anxiety just as much as it thrills me. Revenant is my proudest accomplishment. I don’t want to abandon it, not now that things are just starting to calm down. Reminiscing with Camila about how far we’ve come only reminded me of how much passion went into building that company.
