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"No, not really."
"Would it make you happy?"
"I don't think so?"
"What if it could guarantee to make you wealthy?"
"Well, money does make the world go round, so I say yes."
"But is money worth sacrificing your happiness and your future for a job that has the potential to make you miserable, one you despise having to wake up and go to every day?"
I counter her. "What if I learn to love my money-making, amazing job title because it's what I should do and not what I want to do?"
"What if you don't learn to love it? What if you spend years wishing you had opened your nonprofit instead?"
I consider her questions and realize I'm in a bigger jam than I thought. I don't want to be unhappy—no one does—but I want security.
I shift on the couch, a little uncomfortable under her unyielding gaze. I wonder when I fell so madly in love with money, and if I’m either blinded by it, or because I had so little, I want as much as I can get now. Financial security has always been my ultimate goal, and now that I have it, I don’t see myself stopping. I want more. Taking this deal with James would make it so myself and Grammy would never want for anything. Ever again. It’s simply something I couldn’t pass up, even if I wanted to.
“Honestly, it’s a tough one. I don’t care about the title, but money comes with a good job title anyway. And isn't that why everyone goes to school to get the best job they can? To live a comfortable life without worry? To travel the world and buy a house in the boring suburbs and have two-point-five kids one day?"
"Aubrey," she says, a little disappointed. "If you aren't happy in the end with your decision, how will any of that bring you happiness? Because it's what you're supposed to do? Says who? I'll never tell you not to do something, and I won't make the choice for you, but I hope you sit down and really think about what you want and make the right decision for yourself and no one else. Lord knows we didn't have a lot over the years, but I had a job I loved, and even though you had so little, you didn't know any better and were always smiling. People think they need money to make them happy, but what people forget is that we create our own happiness. Whether you have ten dollars or a hundred, that happiness is still created inside you."
I exhale a stressed breath, feeling so overwhelmed. "Would it be wrong if I opened a nonprofit? I feel like in my heart it's the right thing to do."
"You're your own boss right now. Do what you feel is right. Patience and trust in yourself are what'll give you happiness and a place where you want to be, and that's something you can be proud of in the end. If you focus on good things, good things will come to you. I know it might not seem like that right now, or maybe when you were younger, but life has a way of working out the way it's supposed to. You'll see."
Leaning over, I give Grammy a huge, long hug. She feels so cold, even with the layers of clothes, so I reach for the blanket behind me to cover her, then I rest my head on her shoulder and cuddle up to her. The tightness in my chest feels a little lighter sitting next to Grammy, and I realize I didn't know how much I needed her until just now.
She pats the side of my head lovingly. Her fingers are icy but I nestle closer to her anyway.
"Since when did you become so wise?" I ask, watching her pet the little fur ball on her lap.
"It comes with age, my dear. One day you'll understand."
Forty-Two
"Are you going to stay over? I'd love for you to stay for once," Daniel says, his finger dragging lazily down my arm.
For once. I grimace inwardly, thankful he can't see my face. He wraps an arm around my waist, holding me to him. Daniel nestles closer to my back. I never stay over, no matter how many times he's asked me. I feel bad, but I like my privacy. While I should stay over sometime soon, it won't be during a damn blizzard where I’ll be trapped.
"Maybe next time I will when I'm a little more prepared," I lie, kind of.
"What's this from?"
I lift my head and look down at my arm.
Fuck. A bruise from James.
I’d purposely stayed away from Daniel this week, telling him I had my nanny job because of the bite marks James left. They needed to heal. Teeth marks had covered my breasts and back, which resulted in little bruises. I smiled every time I saw them. Most of the marks and discoloration are gone, but I guess this one had a little more resilience than the others.
My body warms thinking about what his teeth had done to me, how he’d made the pleasure intensify when he bit down and surged inside me simultaneously. I squeeze my thighs together, pushing back the desire that's finally climbing. God, what's wrong with me? I couldn't even get off when I had sex with my boyfriend, yet here I am wet and ready at just the thought of James.
"Huh. I must've walked into a door or something."
"Or one of the kids you babysit bit you."
"What do you mean?" I frown and look harder. Oh my God. There's an obvious mouth imprint.
