“Come visit us. We have a guest room. Bring Luke and the kid. I assume you’re together now?”
I shook my head. For someone who claimed to be bad with people, he was sharply observant. “Yes,” I replied.
“Nice. He seemed like a good guy. Is he treating you well?”
“Yeah.” I tried to stop my mind from wandering to the strain between Luke and me the last few days. Ever since I mentioned this goddamn interview. “He’s the best.”
“When’s this interview? You gonna cancel it and do what you actually wanna do?”
I moved the phone away from my ear to check the time. “It’s in half an hour. And yeah, I think I am.”
I get it now, I wanted to tell Wendy. There wasn’t one objective definition of success.Success is whateverIthink it is.
The only opinion of me that really matters is my own.
And I didn’t look down on myself for making a change and leaving behind something I didn’t love to pursue something that I do.
Alongside two people I love.
An overwhelming sense of peace and certainty settled in my gut as I typed out the email to the recruiter and the hiring contact for the firm apologizing, canceling my interview, and telling them I wasn’t in a position to reschedule. I shoved my phone in my bag as soon as I pressed Send.
Silently thanking myself for wearing flats today instead of heels, I shot up from the bench and ran back across the bridge to the bus station.
The next bus to the Martha’s Vineyard ferry terminal was departing in twenty minutes.
40
“Would it be alright with you if I kept living here, full-time?” I looked at Mimi as we drove down the beach road toward Edgartown. As soon as she picked me up from the boat, I’d told her about canceling the interview. “I’ll take good care of the house,” I promised.
She smiled. “I was wondering when you’d finally ask.”
Relief settled at least some of my nerves. I sank into the passenger seat and texted my family and Natalie to tell them my decision was made: I’d be staying on Martha’s Vineyard.
When we got back to Mimi’s house, I changed as quickly as I could, anxious to go to Luke’s and tell him my good news—that I was staying, that I’d somehow finally shaken off the insecurities that compelled me to take that interview in the first place. The excitement humming underneath my skin to finally start living life on my own terms was building to a crescendo.
When I pulled into Luke’s driveway, the flickering, blueish light of the TV filtered through the living room window. I cut the engine and bounded up the front walkway. My hand stopped at the door handle. As far as Luke knew, I was spending the night at a hotel in Boston and returning tomorrow. I’d typed out several messages to him on the bus ride, but none of them quite conveyedwhat I wanted to say, so I never sent any of them. I couldn’t just throw open the door. Even though it felt strange to knock on the front door of the house that had begun to feel like home, I did it anyway. Moments later, I heard the faint taps of bare feet on hardwood floors. Luna opened the door, Luke a few steps behind her.
“Val!” She wrapped her arms around my waist.
I hugged her back.
“Hey, Luna.” I made eye contact with Luke over her head. Surprise was plain on his features.
“Clara loved my purple nails!” Luna wiggled her fingers at me.
“She has good taste.”
“Yep!” Luna retreated to the couch, one of the books we bought yesterday open on the table. The Red Sox game was on TV, and Luke had a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder.
I opened my mouth to explain my presence to Luke at the same time that he asked, “What are you—um, did something happen?”
“I canceled the interview.”
He inclined his head toward the kitchen, and I followed him.
“Why?” he asked, a line appearing between his eyebrows. I didn’t blame him. I’d been all over the place lately.
“It’s not what I want. I want to write. I want to implement that Author Business Plan we made. I want to stay here.”
