“Insurance.”
His fight with the smile continues. “So, he’s a low risk, low reward guy.”
“One thousand percent. My mom likes to trade stocks,” I say, taking another swallow of beer. I lean my body toward Will, shifting my weight onto a palm. Marshall has settled against Will’s chest, his eyes half-closed. “She’s a part of the Reddit set and everything. My dad begrudgingly endures it, but Robbie and my mom fight about it every chance they get.”
“Let me guess,” Will says. “Robbiethinks if she’s going to invest, it should be in a ten-year bond or a treasury bill.”
“You got it.”
“Your mom sounds awesome,” he murmurs.
I laugh at that. “She is awesome. You know the type of helicopter parent who puts all their worth into their children, and then doesn’t know what their purpose is once the children stop needing them? That was my mom. She never worked, never had hobbies, really, until after I went to college. She and my dad used to be more traditional than they are now, but I love the people they’ve become.”
Will nods, rocking his head against the tree.
“Do you think that’s why you started your own company?” His voice is soft and almost careful, but his eyes are piercing. “Because you didn’t want to ever wonder about your purpose?”
“Definitely.” I remember what I told him at Eberly:I want my existence to be meaningful.
“Is it fulfilling?” Will asks.
I startle. “What?”
“Your job.”
“Yes” is my automatic response.
Will sees right through me. “Give me the real answer, Josephine.”
I tug my bottom lip between my teeth. “I suppose the real answer is my job gives me more anxiety than fulfillment these days.”
What I don’t admit is sometimes, I wish I could give it all up. Trade my lifestyle for a different one. And yet, every day, I wake up and decidenotto sell Revenant. I decidenotto give up the CEO position. Even though I could at any given point.
And maybe that’s because—just like my mother—I don’t want something I created to stop needing me.
The way he’s watching me is new. Most of the time, Will has furrowed brows, his eyes hungry as they rove my face, the position of his body arched toward mine. But now, Will’s body is relaxed, his eyes calm. His features have arranged into a smooth understanding, like he’s temporarily stopped trying to work me out because I gave him the answer myself.
Beyond us, smoke is lifting off the grills, the smell of charcoal fragrant. The side of my face is catching the brunt of the sun as it falls into the tree line. The colors of the light are changing, painting Will’s hair an almost red sheen.
“Do you ever wish you were doing some other job?” he asks.
“Never,” I admit, just above a whisper, like it’s a confession. “But sometimes I wish I was doing nothing at all.”
Little Marshall is now fully asleep against Will’s chest, his round cheeks rosy. I envy him. I envy his ability to fall asleep on another human with nothing on his mind beyond his own immediate comfort.
“What would you do, if you had nothingtodo?” Will asks.
“I think I’d get a puppy,” I admit. “Some type of doodle that doesn’t shed and costs more money than a month’s rent, and sure, you can add the fact that I would want a designer dog to the list of the worst things about me, I don’t care.”
Will cracks a smile. “I’m allergic to dog hair, so that’s fine with me.”
“I would start designing again,” I say. “Nothing I’d manufacture, not this time around. They’d all be one-of-a-kind dresses or formal wear. And maybe I’d auction them off and give the proceeds to philanthropies if there was enough interest.”
“An animal shelter, to make up for your designer dog,” Will advises.
“And I would start dating again, too.” I say it on an exhale, then pause and glance at Will after the words leave me. His expression doesn’t alter, not even a fraction.
“Whowould you date?” he asks shakily.
