Page 118 of Lucky 22

I mean, I know they aren’t. I’ve known it all along. But Ikeep holding on to the tiny glimmer of hope that I’m being overly critical andthat his body is healing.

His shoulders sag, and I hear him say, “I’ll be there.Thanks.”

I watch as he slides his phone into his pocket before facingme, but his smile is forced as he comes over to kiss me again.

“Everything okay?”

“My medical records arrived, so…” He shrugs. “They want tomeet with me.”

I don’t ask anything else because I can already tell thathe’s feeling defeated. So, I reach up and give him a reassuring kiss. “I’ll seeyou at the game. I love you.”

That seems to ease his mind. “Love you, too, beautifulgirl.” And then he leaves.

I woke up this morning knowing my decision about theaudition, and this little interaction confirms that I’m doing the right thing.

I stare at Tracy’s name on my phone for five full minutesbefore finally pressing call.

It rings twice.

“Ella!” she answers brightly, polished enthusiasm drippingthrough the speaker. “Please tell me this is the part where you confess yousimply forgot to text me your travel info because you’re already studying thesuperhero universe and deciding what color gown you want to wear to your firstOscar ceremony.”

I swallow. My mouth feels dry. And honestly, I might vomit.

“Not…exactly.”

There’s a brief pause. Not long, just long enough for herinstincts to flare.

“What do you mean ‘not exactly?’” she asks lightly, but thesharpness underneath is unmistakable.

I take a breath. “I won’t be coming to LA. I’m not going toaudition.”

Silence.

Tracy’s not the reactive type. She doesn’t gasp. She doesn’tshout. She goes very still. But I can almost hear her brainrecalculating.

“I must’ve misheard you,” she says finally, her voice smoothas glass. “Because you cannot possibly be telling me you’re turning down adirect lead consideration for one of the biggest films shooting next year.”

“I am.”

“And why,” she asks calmly, too calmly, “would you do that?”

My fingers grip the phone tighter. “Because it would meanmonths away. And Christian is…he’s still recovering. We’ve just uprooted ourlives again. He needs stability. We need stability. And I need toprioritize my marriage right now.”

Even though he’s okay with me leaving—and I truly believe heis—I’m not.

“And you can’t do that while working?” Tracy repliesinstantly.

“It’s not just work,” I say softly. “It’s leaving. It’sdisappearing from our lives again. And I don’t want to do that. Not right now.It’s just not the right time.”

Tracy exhales a little laugh. It’s not amused.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says. “You’re romanticizing sacrificelike it’s some noble calling. He plays baseball. You act. That’s thedeal. You knew what you were marrying into. He knew what he was marrying into.This is the kind of role people wait their entire careers for.”

“I know,” I whisper, and I do. I seriously do. “But mymarriage isn’t something I want to gamble with.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“You are making an emotional decision,” she says crisply.“Not a professional one. And emotional decisions cost careers.”