“Sorry,” I add quickly. “I just… you will. Be great. At it. The kids already love you.”
Rose’s smile shifts, softens.
“Thanks, Faith,” she says. “That means a lot.”
It does something in my chest, too, to say it out loud. To picture her in a classroom with a whiteboard and too many sticky notes, to imagine Wyatt toddling around a school hallway after hours.
“What about you?” Ellie asks suddenly, stuffing a bite of biscuit into her mouth and speaking around it anyway. “Are you a teacher too?”
I choke on my water.
“No, baby, she’s—" Rose starts, but I shake my head, swallowing hard.
“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s a good question.”
Ellie looks at me expectantly, crumbs clinging to her chin. Lila has paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, eyes fixed on my face. So has Dallas. I can feel that, even if I’m not looking at him. A change in air pressure.
What am I?
“I was an event planner,” I say. The words taste strange. “In the city. I worked for a company that puts on big corporate things. Conferences. Galas. Holiday parties.”
“Fancy parties?” Ellie asks, eyes going round.
“Very fancy,” I say. “Lots of sparkly dresses. Lots of tiny appetizers that nobody can pronounce.”
“Do you like it?” Lila asks.
The simple question lands as a small stone dropped into a still pond.
Did.
Past tense.
I pick at the edge of my biscuit, rolling a crumb between my thumb and forefinger.Do not look at Dallas, I instruct myself.Do not look at Dallas.
“It’s complicated,” I say, aiming my answer more at my plate than at anyone. “It can be fun. I like the parts where I get to make things beautiful, where I organize everything. I like making sure people have what they need, even if they never know I’m the one who made it happen.”
That part is true. I’ve always liked being the glue in the background. The one who notices the empty coffee pot, the nervous speaker, the kid at the party who needs someone to sit on the floor and talk about horses instead of stock prices.
“But it also…” I search for a word that isn’t miserable. “It wasn’t really mine. My job. It was something my dad thought would be good for me. For him. It looked good. It sounded good.”
There’s a patch of silence around the table. Even the kids feel it. The air goes just a little heavier.
“Did you want to do it?” Lila persists.
There’s that question again.
Did I want… any of it?
The job. The apartment. The ring.
My throat tightens.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I wanted to make him proud. I wanted to be useful. I wanted to feel like I wasn’t wasting my life.” I swallow. “But I don’t think I ever stopped and asked myself if I actually liked it. Or if I was just used to it.”
Dallas shifts beside me. The heat from his arm brushes mine as he leans forward, setting his fork down. I don’t have to look up to know his jaw is clenched. I can feel the tension coming off him like static.
“That’s a terrible reason to do anything,” Clay says bluntly.
