“What does?—”
“And studies show the importance of meeting up with people and having that human connection.”
“I’ll need you to cite your sources.”
He waved a hand.
“Social media is not news,” I said. “It’s a curated algorithm that reinforces what you already believe.”
“I’m aware?—”
“I’m just not a social butterfly like you. You know this. Your intense social life is not for me.”
“Maybe if you gave it a shot,” he said.
Keys rattled in the door, and my middle protested.
“I hear Kev. I gotta go.”
“Talk to you later, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you.”
I closed the laptop and made my way to greet Kevin.
I was practically bouncing on the balls of my feet as he stepped into the house. “Well? How’d it go? Are you okay? Want a drink?”
He tugged off a cashmere scarf and shrugged out of his coat.It was still in the high sixties in the afternoon here, but he took seasonal fashion very seriously.
He tossed his arms out to the side and smiled widely. “I got a promotion.”
I blinked at him, and my stomach dropped to my toes. My smile was plastered in place, probably less of a smile and more of a grimace, working on being a smile. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He walked farther into his townhouse. I followed him, feeling a numbing sensation traveling to my toes. I must have misunderstood.
“Look. Before you get all …Claireabout this. Just hear me out.” He went to the fridge and grabbed a kombucha.
“I don’t love my name being used in that context.” I crossed my arms as if to defend myself from his sharp words but shut my mouth so I could focus on what he had to say.
“I went to quit. Told them about the offer from the nonprofit, like we talked about, but listen.” His head sort of bobbed as he spoke, like a chicken looking for pebbles to masticate. I never noticed that before. Had it always done that? “I guess I didn’t realize how important I was around there.”
I slumped back onto the edge of the couch, causing it to slide on the hardwood floor. “Okay.” He glared at the flooring and bent to rub where there was no scratch.
“So yeah.” He took a long drink and burped a sour smell. “I told them I was leaving, and this was my two weeks’ notice.”
“Right.” That was the plan. The plan I had made a slideshow for. The plan that was written down in multiple places.
“And then they offered me a promotion with an insane raise. A fat one. I’m talking big money. Money that you and I have only ever dreamed of.”
“A promotion,” I repeated. A million different thoughts crossed my mind all at once.
I liked that Kevin had been raised a blue-collar Midwesterner like me when I met him out here in Colorado. We talked about childhoods playing until the fireflies came out, being latchkey kids, and block parties in the alleys. We both had an incredible work ethic and time management skills. These things made us great partners. I understood his fear of not having money drove him, but I never thought it was themostimportant thing.
“What about the nonprofit? That’s what your master’s is in,” I said. My tone was calm and cool. Emotions gathered in my gut, knotting together so that detangling them would take time.
His shoulders slumped. “Claire. I know. Maybe with this promotion, I’ll have more resources to help people differently.”
“Okay. Wow. Okay, I’m processing,” I said.
