Page 9 of Dream Chaser

I had planned to spend the night at a hotel. Now I was facing the prospect of sleeping in my car—no way I’d go back home tonight. Or ever.

“What’s wrong?” Scarlett asked.

I dropped the phone in my purse. “Nothing. Thank you for the coffee and the company.”

She sighed. “What are you going to do now?”

“No idea,” I said, stepping aside so a couple could pay for their drinks.

“Come on.” Scarlett took me by the elbow. “Let’s talk outside.”

Briny air filled my lungs as we stepped onto the street. The ocean was a big reason why I loved Emerport. Even when it was cold and windy, I used to take long walks on the beach, taking photos and dreaming of living here one day.

“Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days? I’m renovating my apartment, but the workers won’t touch the spare room until I travel to France on Tuesday.”

My eyes met hers. She seemed sure, and it’d help me, but I couldn’t take advantage of her after years of no contact.

“I can’t, Scar. I feel weird accepting help when I can’t give you anything.”

She smiled. “You’ll give me back the best friend I’ve ever had. Come on. You need to think of a plan, and you need a roof over your head while you do it.”

“Only until I decide what to do next,” I said. “Thank you.”

Scar nudged my shoulder with hers. “You can thank me by thriving.”

***

Skyscrapers rose beyond the windows of Scarlett’s condo in a historic downtown building, an idyllic cityscape. By contrast, the space around me was a mess.

Dust motes drifted through the air. A stack of boxes loomed against one wall. Plastic tarps covered the few pieces of furniture scattered around the room. Still, it was infinitely better than staying at Preston’s—the place I couldn’t even call home.

“I’m so sorry about all of this.” Scarlett crossed to me with a bottle of white wine and two glasses, her heels clicking on the plywood. “I’m going to France on Tuesday. Thought it would be better to get out of everyone’s way while the renovations are going on.”

“Definitely. And don’t worry. I’m grateful you let me stay here.” I took the goblets from her. “Are you going to be away for a while, then?”

She poured us both a glass of wine. “Until Christmas, give or take. Enough time for the crew to tear down walls and turn this into the apartment of my dreams.”

She left the bottle on the floor. As she handed me the glass, she sneezed and covered her nose with the back of her hand. “See? I wouldn’t be able to work here anyway, and my father finally trusted me enough to let me handle the new perfume’s launch on my own.”

“That’s amazing, Scar. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, but let’s focus on you.” She lifted her glass. “To your bright future.”

My jaw trembled as I took a sip. The present and the future both looked bleak at best. I needed money to file for divorce and rent a place. And I had none.

“I need a job.” I sighed.

“Where are you going to stay once I leave?” Her concerned gaze roamed my face. “If I’d known—”

“No, Scar. Nobody knew, not even me. I’m going to stay at my mother’s until I get a job.”

I wasn’t looking forward to it, but what choice did I have? My only other option, the house Grandma left me, was in a tiny town even farther from Millford. There were no jobs there, and I needed something that paid enough.

Scarlett tapped her index finger on her glass. “Time to use your degree in marketing. You were so good. I thought companies would fight for you once you started looking for internships.”

“And look at me now.” I twirled my goblet. “I’ve got a major in housewifing and almost got a degree in cooking. Would’ve graduated if my chicken wasn’t dry.”

Scar snorted. “You’re a great cook. You just did it for the wrong person.”