The phone almost slips from my hands. His words are drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Well, thank you for that vote of confidence,” I reply. “It’s too bad I wasn’t selected to work on the new project at all.”
“That’s the second reason I’m calling, Neely. Not promoting you was an oversight on our part. On my part. I’ll take responsibility for it. But I also have to take responsibility for correcting wrongs, and not having you leading that team is definitely a wrong.”
“What are you saying?” I ask. I pick out a little pebble on the ground and stare at it.
“I’m saying we want you back. I want you back. I don’t hold it against you for quitting for one second. I would’ve quit too. As a matter of fact, if you hadn’t, I would’ve been disappointed.”
I hop off the table, unable to sit still any longer. “You want me back. How? In what capacity?”
“I want you to lead the Creatives. I want you to direct our approach to this thing. What types of articles are we publishing? What images are we showing? I want you to be the one to present me with a final version of anything that goes out so I know it’s been through you first.”
Tears sting my eyes as I realize what he’s saying. He’s giving me the one thing I’ve always wanted, the platform I’ve begged for. Prayed for. Quit for. He’s giving me the only thing I’ve ever set my heart on.
A car backs out of a parking space in front of me and a horn honks. A window rolls down and Mia and Keyarah wave. “Bye, Neely,” they shout.
My hand comes up, but it doesn’t quite move. I can’t move. I can only listen to Frank tell me he wants me back in two days.
Two.
Days.
Before Manicure Day.
Before the Summer Show.
Before I have time to break this to Dane and Mia in a way they deserve.
“I’ll give you ten percent more than we were offering for the position you applied for,” he says. “You’re worth it. This project depends on you.”
I watch the car disappear from sight. But so do they.
I shake my head to focus. “Can I also point out that Lynne stole my ideas and no one thought anything about that? And that it’s taken this long for you to even realize I’m gone?”
“That’s not true, Neely. Your resignation came to my desk the day after it was filed.”
“And my contributions to the company weren’t enough for you to call me before now?” I ask. “I gave everything I had to that company, Frank. I gave it my all for a very long time. And then this happens, and I’ll admit, I’m not really feeling valued.”
“I’ll shoulder the blame for that as well. Your name has been on a sticky note since the day I realized you were gone. I originally thought it was a two-week notice, which would’ve had you still here or close to it. I didn’t realize at the time it was effective immediately.” He blows out a breath. “I’m in over my head here, Neely. We’re trying to do a lot of things, trying to break down those doors you talk about all the time. But I can’t do it without someone who feels as passionately about it as you do. Come back. Help us. Let’s make a dent in this industry.”
Those words are all I’ve wanted to hear since I stood in my cap and gown and received my diploma. If I don’t go back, if I don’t try, I’ll always wonder what I could’ve accomplished—wonder if I could’ve done all the things I wrote down in my journal with a sunflower on it that’s under my pillow in New York.
“Can you be back in two days?” he asks. “I know this is impromptu, but we’ve committed to the launch dates, and I have to be sure we can pull them off.”
A single tear rolls down my face as my mouth says the words my heart can’t. “I’ll be there, Frank.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NEELY
Hi, honey!” Mom greets me from the kitchen. The house smells like pie and roast beef. It sours my stomach. “I’m making a raisin pie for Mr. Rambis, but I made you a coconut cream pie too. So no jealousy, all right?” She pokes her head around the corner. “Honey. What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Rambis is Gary to me now,” I say flatly. “We worked it out.”
“That’s nice.” She watches me walk into the kitchen and get out a glass. “Neely?”
I don’t look at her yet. I’m afraid I’ll cry. If that happens, she’ll probably panic, and her panicking won’t help anything.
“I have some great news,” I tell her. Ice clinks into the glass before I fill it with water.
“Great news is usually accompanied by a little more enthusiasm than I’m getting from you,” she notes. “Are you sure ‘great’ is the right word?”
On any given day, this news is great. Life-changing, even. It’s what I’ve worked my whole life for. It’s not that the word is wrong by any means. It’s that I’m having a hard time making peace with it.
I take a sip of the water. The cold rush slips down my throat. Instead of shocking me back to reality, instead of waking me up from the fog I feel like I’m walking around in, it chills me to the bone.
“I got two job offers today.” I lead with facts and numbers. I learned to do that in a random college class that I took just to finish my generals. People have a hard time arguing numbers, and if you start a conversation with hard data, they’re typically more engaged in your words. You sound smarter. And God knows I need all the wisdom I can get.
“Two?” She lifts a brow. “That’s amazing.”
“Aerial asked me to take over the gym today. I think that’s amazing.”
Mom’s eyes light up. “I actually think that’s wonderful.” She turns to the stove and puts on her oven mitts. She pulls two perfectly baked pies out and sets them on a cooling rack. “You’re so good with kids, honey. And the fact that Aerial trusts you to take over her namesake really says a lot about your reputation.” She plops the gloves down and turns to me. “I’m quite proud of you. You know that?”
I nod. I try to smile. I attempt at finding a twig of excitement somewhere in my system as I make my second declaration. “I also got a call from Frank Selleck.”
“He’s from your old company, right?”
“Right. He is Mark’s boss. I worked with him a few times on special projects and in developing the new magazine.”
She stills, watching me. It just makes me more nervous.
“Frank basically said they screwed up and want me back. Now. Ten percent more money than the job I applied for plus all creative control, more or less.” I wait for a surge of adrenaline that doesn’t come. “This isn’t just my dream job, Mom—it’s the next level. This is the stuff that happens to other people.”
I haven’t said it out loud until now. I stand by the refrigerator, which is covered in gaudy magnets and old pictures, and hope something I’ve just spouted off will hit me like a ton of bricks. That maybe this will start to feel less like a move to dread and more like something to feel energized about.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Nothing.
I try again.
“This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Mom goes to the sink and rinses off her hands. “I know it is, and I’m happy they realized what they lost.”
“Are you?”
“Absolutely. I want you to have what you deserve. You deserve this. You’ve worked very hard for this opportunity, and if it’s what you want, then I’m thrilled for you, honey.”
I wait for her to continue. When she doesn’t, I look at the ceiling. “But . . .”
“But do you think, possibly, you deserve more than they’re offering you?”
“They’re giving me a huge raise, Mom.”
She smiles faintly. “I don’t mean financially.”
The kettle is in her hand when I open my eyes. She begins to fill it at the sink, then sets it on a hot burner. My chest squeezes so tight I don’t know whether to yelp from the constriction or cry from the agony. I just know this isn’t what it’s supposed to feel like.
“You keep telling yourself all the things you’ll gain from this new job,” she says. “You list them out like it’ll hit critical mass at some point and you’ll finally be convinced it’s the right choice.”
“I don’t have to be convinced. It is the right choice.”
“Fine,” she says. She stands on her tiptoes and pulls a box of tea bags out of the cabinet next to the spice rack. “It’s the right choice. But what does this job not give you? What do you have to give up to take it? That’s what I was saying when I said what if you deserve more.”
My fingernail goes to my mouth, but I stop my finger midair. I turn it over and look at the nail as my heart sinks to my stomach. What will I give up? I cringe at the pain that settles in my chest.
Manicures with Mia. Lazy evenings with Dane. Burgers at Mucker’s while Penn tells wild tales of his exploits, and hugs from Matt that feel as natural as breathing.
Weekend drives along dirt roads and quiet mornings on the porch with coffee. Grocery stores that barely qualify and trips that require you to drive around old hound dogs lying in the middle of the road. Sunday potlucks and random conversations with Gary and margarita dates with my mom where she liquors me up to extract information.