Page 89 of The Snowflake Effect

“Christen what?” says the devil herself.

Raven walks up behind Kevin. She’s not a small woman, a couple of inches taller than me, but her stilettos elongate her already long legs, most of which can be seen in her black mini dress. Next to Kevin’s slight frame, she looks like a sexy giant.

“Big night,” she says to me. “But why are you out here? I heard a rumor there’s a cute dude with a ponytail inside.” She winks at me.

I drop my eyes, wondering if there’s a manhole I can squeeze through. Anything to avoid Kolton and the conversation we’ve yet to finish.

The past week has been nonstop: meetings, errands, late nights setting up. I’ve needed every available second to pull the shop together, but Kolton and I both know I’ve also used every available second to steer clear of the biggest decision I’ve ever faced.

When I was with Richard and got offered the cereal-box-prize job in Montreal, I knew I wanted it. Knew it could do amazing things for my future, but the Dick’s reaction back then pricked my fragile self-esteem, deflating the momentary confidence I’d gained. “I need you here,” he said. “Besides, it’s too soon to take on something that big. If it falls apart, you’ll only hurt your career.”

His “if” was a poorly disguised “when.” Suddenly, leaving Richard and starting over seemed too daunting, failure too tangible. So, I gave the job up.

Regret has shadowed me ever since.

Raven’s heels click closer, and she slides her arm around my waist. “Why don’t you head in, Kev? Us ladies need some girl time.”

I watch, unmoving, as Kevin’s black leather shoes retreat.

Raven bumps her hip into mine. “If you’re planning on working as one of those frozen mimes, you should put a hat out to collect money.”

I snort and look up. Her dark eyes are squinting, like she’s trying to see into my mind, and Lily’s soft gray gaze is full of compassion.

I opt for sarcasm. “Not my thing. If someone passes with a hot dog, I’ll for sure salivate and twitch.” The thought alone has me scanning the area for street meat.

“There’s my girl.” Raven folds her arms. “Now let’s have it. Why are you lurking outside the grand opening you helped create?”

Lily’s hand shoots to her heart. “Did you decide about moving?”

Evading the subject seems more exhausting than sharing my jumbled thoughts. “No, I haven’t. I’m a mess. And I don’t know how to go in there and pretend everything’s fine.”

Raven folds her arms. “I know it’s your life, Shay, and you’re reluctant to ask for advice these days, but you’re about to get some.” She widens her stance. “The negative shit churning in that beautiful head of yours needs to stop. Giving up Hilary’s promotion isn’t weakness; it’s following your heart. Moving to another province isn’t subservience to a man; it’s allowing yourself to fall in love. Love may not be in my future plans, but I know you. This is what you want. If you’re not interested in trying, if the job really means more to you than Kolton, then by all means…don’t go. Stay here. But be honest. If not with us or him, at least with yourself. Because if you love him but your pride and fear keeps you in Toronto, the regret you wallowed in after giving up the Montreal gig will feel like a stroll in the park.”

Lily leans forward and adjusts the plunging neckline of my red dress. “She has a point.” The door to the event swings wide, laughter and guitar licks drifting onto the street. “Do you love him?” she asks.

On the surface, it’s such a simple question, and I know my answer. Kolton’s proven time and again he’s nothing like Richard. He asks questions when I talk about work, like why I choose a certain color or if there’s a reason behind a particular design. We’ll be out, and he’ll instigate my design game, asking me to point out all the things I’d redo if given the chance.

Those are the times I want to hit pause, the world around freezing, so I can say, I love you. But I’ve been a coward.

What if I go to Vancouver and hate it there? What if things aren’t the same between us? What if we drift apart? What if I resent him? What if I pass up another job and end up designing retirement homes again?

What if, if, if…

If I have to endure another round of floral couches, I’ll die of ugly.

“It’s not a trick question,” Raven says. “Do you love the man or not?”

“Yes,” I whisper to the girls. The undeniable truth. Then louder, “Yes, I love him. I’m head-over-heels in love with him, but I want this job so badly I can taste it.”

Lily frowns. “I still don’t understand why you have to choose.”

I chew my cheek, remembering how Kolton evaded the subject of compromising with long distance the night we were out. His stern expression was an easy read: my way or the highway.

“Yeah,” Raven says. “I know he looked into moving here, but why is this so black-and-white? Why can’t you take the job for a year or two and start things with him long distance? It wouldn’t have to be permanent.”

I study a crack in the sidewalk. The fracture runs through an R + S carved inside a heart. I place my toe over the top loop of the R, and the wonky heart now reads: K + S. “Kolton mentioned stuff about doing long distance in university with Marina and it blowing up. He didn’t get into specifics, but I think he’s freaked about that. He was acting kind of weird when we talked about things and made it sound like this was the only way—I move, or we’re over. He’s also been oddly quiet at times the past few weeks. Stuck in his head a lot. Probably worried about us.” Rightfully so.

“Fuck that.” Raven looks ready to spit nails. “Whatever happened with Marina was years ago. People do long distance all the time. It’s not ideal, but it doesn’t mean it can’t work. If this is important to you, if he loves you, he’ll give it a shot.”