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“Wonder what that was about,” Dante murmurs.
“Work, probably.”
Half an hour later, Aiden’s still not back at the pool.
People start to ask where he went, and at first, I shrug, but then I decide to head back to check on him, just in case something’s wrong.
I walk down the concrete path, around the side of the main building, and then I spot our private bungalow up ahead. The door is slightly ajar as if Aiden didn’t think to push it closed all the way, or maybe he was just in too much of a hurry. I reach my hand up to knock on the door and alert him to my presence, but then I hear him on the phone.
“Obviously it’s my dream. It’s everybody’s dream.”
He laughs at something the person on the other end of the line says, and then there’s more silence. I glance behind me, down the path, wondering if I should go back to the pool. But then, everyone will ask me what’s keeping Aiden, and I still don’t have an answer.
“I understand,” he continues. “My schedule is actually clear this week. I was taking some personal time, so there’s no reason I couldn’t be there tomorrow.”
My gut clenches.
There’s no reason I couldn’t be there tomorrow.
No reason.
“Okay, yeah sounds good. I’ll confirm flight options after I get off the phone. Once I know what time I’ll get into New York, I’ll be in touch.”
He laughs again, thanks the person profusely, and then the call ends.
I hear him shuffling around now, unzipping his bag, presumably getting his laptop out so he can check on those flights.
I clear my throat and knock on the door. “Aiden?” I call out, acting as if I just arrived at the bungalow.
“Hey, yeah, you can come in.”
“You left the door open,” I point out as I enter. He’s sitting in one of the lounge chairs, fingers already flying on his keyboard.
“Oh, sorry.” He doesn’t even look up from his computer. “I rushed back to take a call, must not have closed it all the way.”
“Oh? Was it important?”
He looks up at me as if just now realizing who I am and what I’m asking him. Then he nods slowly. “Yeah, you could say that.”
I half-smile. “Why are you being so cryptic?”
He mimics my smile. “I guess I’m just still a little shocked.”
I arch my brows, and he shakes his head before continuing, “That was the Times.”
“The Times? As in the New York Times?”
He laughs in disbelief, leans back in the chair, and tugs his hands through his hair. “They want me to come up for an interview.”
“No way.”
My mouth is on the floor. This is Aiden’s dream.
“Yeah. Dave said he put in a good word for me a few weeks ago, but I didn’t think anything would come from it.”
Dave is the editor-in-chief at Texas Monthly. For years, he’s been Aiden’s advocate, believing in his talent and throwing him hardballs in the hopes that he’d knock them out of the park. I’m not surprised he provided a good reference for Aiden, and I’m not surprised they want him to go to New York for an interview.
I’m just surprised by the timing of it all.
“So then you’re leaving the trip?”
“I mean…I have to, right?”
His green eyes have never seemed so far away.
“Absolutely, you have to go. It’s the Times.”
“The Times,” he repeats.
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“How do you feel?” I ask, aware that my voice doesn’t carry the exact right tone. I’m not masking my emotions enough. My worry is seeping through.
“Like it’s not real. I mean, it’s not.” He shrugs. “I don’t have a job or anything. Just an interview.”
He has to say that, but I know the truth. Aiden will get that job. This is his moment, the time and place he’ll look back on in a decade with a rueful shake of his head.
“And then what?” I prompt, needing to know.
“What do you mean?”
“Would you be a Texas correspondent for them or something?”
Aiden’s brows crinkle down the middle, and I have my answer. The last shred of hope I was naively hanging on to is crumpled up and thrown out.
“The position is in New York,” he says lightly.
I shake my head as if correcting my thoughts. “Of course it is. Duh. Wow, that’s…” I point behind me. “I was just coming in to check what you were up to, so I should probably alert the others—”
“Yeah, okay.” He glances back down at his laptop. “I still have to figure all this stuff out and try to see if I can get a flight from El Paso or if I should try to drive back to Austin.”
“Oh! Sure.” I take this as my cue to leave. “Okay, good luck.”
I appear externally optimistic right up until I close the door of our bungalow behind me. Then, my shoulders sag, my smile drops, and I take in an unsteady breath. It feels like there’s a boulder sitting on my chest, like I couldn’t move from this spot even if I was being chased by a lion. I squint out at the desert landscape, trying to identify how this could possibly be happening. Aiden is interviewing in New York. If he gets the job, he’ll move.
