“Well, because it’s only a hobby. I have other things I need to focus on, and I can’t keep getting distracted if I’m going to get out of here. And, obviously, I’ve been getting distracted a lot lately. I don’t need to add another thing on top of it.”
“What do you meanget out of here?”
“I’m applying to doctorate programs for political science. As soon as I get into a program, I’m leaving.”
“Why?”
She looked at him in confusion. “Why what?”
“If you want to get into politics, why not just get into politics? You’re obviously good at this stuff and have to be smarter than most of the people currently in it.”
For the first time, her eyes flicked away, her fingers fiddling with the strap on the camera bag. “I… I might like research and teaching.” It was a statement, but her usual enthusiasm was missing.
As he watched her mouth stretch into a flat line it hit him. “You didn’t like working on the campaign.”
“I didn’t say that,” was her quick response, before adding, “It was fine.”
But Mia’s discomfort with the whole conversation was evident as her vision locked on to the various objects in the office, and she continued to fidget with the camera bag.
“Mia,” he said in an attempt to get her attention. Her focus made a slow track to him. “You don’t have the gleam for it, but you had it when you were doing photography and talking about setting up Etsy and Instagram pages.”
Her face fell for a moment before she recovered and released a brief, humorless laugh. She moved further away from him. “Stop it. What exactly am I supposed to do? Photography? I can’t do that.”
“Why not? You obviously enjoy it.”
“Because it’s not a real job.”
“I think there are professional photographers who would argue with you on that point.”
Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, let me be more specific. It’s not a real jobfor me.”
He grew agitated at the new demeanor she adopted, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against his desk. “Says who? Mia, you’re lucky enough you could probably do whatever you want. And if you can make something with only a camera, your intelligence, and your PR abilities, why wouldn’t you want to try?”
“You don’t understand,” Mia said, crossing her arms tightly over the bag.
“You’re right. I don’t understand at all.”
“I’ve already started the process.”
“So?”
“Look, I’m just passing through here. I’m going to get my PhD. I’m going to get tenure. I’m going to write academic papers and books. I’m going to make something amazing out of my life and be someone important. I’m not going to be one of those people who peaked in high school, who are still living in a tiny, hick town, who haven’t done or seen anything. I can’t. Don’t you understand. Ican’tfail.” Her eyes were wide and shiny. Her chest rose and fell in short breaths.
Ross studied her in silence, understanding the straight honest truth behind her words. There was no people-pleaser, no brashness here. She was the person who pointed to the exact position where he stood in the grand scheme of apparent success. “You mean, someone like me—except I never even got to peak in high school.”
Mia’s complexion blanched, her gaze darted away while she chewed on her bottom lip, appearing on the verge of tears. “I-I would never think that about you,” she replied in a small, strained voice. Hugging the camera bag close to her chest, she rushed to the exit. “I just can’t afford to take risks like everyone else.”
Chapter Nineteen
Mia massaged theskin along her temple, feeling wretched. Did it matter if she heaped an extra, cold serving of wretchedness onto her day? This was the reason she sat in her mother’s craft chair, running fingers across an unfinished quilt block beside the sewing machine. All the necessary elements were there, and yet this was a quilt destined never to be finished. This knowledge depressed her even more.
What at first seemed impossible had become a reality. Mia found a weakened seam in Ross’s leather armor and pushed until the edges pulled apart. This allowed a small part of her to slip through and touch him. But she had screwed up again and this time in the worst possible way. One moment they were kissing, the next, they were at odds. She had no hope this could be repaired, not again. She wanted to throw up.
In the chaotic, sloppy defense of her life decisions, she managed to slap down his entire existence, which was the furthest thing she’d ever meant to do. But he shouldn’t have pushed. His insight into her life produced a bubble of panic within her gut. It was as if she was drowning on the inside from the overwhelming pressure. All she required from Ross was to acknowledge her situation with a nod of respect. Instead, those all-seeing, obsidian eyes took her in with x-ray accuracy. Her carefully controlled image was in danger of becoming wholly exposed, and she couldn’t imagine anything worse.
Mia wished her mom was here. She was tired of the craft room door being closed all the time. While her father was Mia’s northern star when she needed guidance in her professional life, when it came to matters of the heart, this was when she missed her mom the most. In the old days, the craft room door was always open.
*
