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“What job?”
“I’d like to bring you on as a baking consultant of sorts.”
“A baking consultant?” I squeak.
“I see you and Zahra share the fond habit of repeating everything I say.”
“That says more about you than us.”
His deep chuckle makes the speaker on my phone crackle. “Are you open to the job?”
“Do I have to work at Dreamland?”
“Only for a minority of the time. We can fly you out on the jet one weekend every month if that works.”
Nope. Not going to comment on the private jet, no matter how much I want to.
Once a month sounds doable, especially if it is only a part-time job.
“How much are you offering?” I ask with a serious tone.
“Give me a few more recipes and you’ll be retiring tomorrow.”
Screw retirement. I could open my own bakery and travel around the world, getting the best of both worlds.
My answer is easy. “You know what? Sure. Why not?”
“I was hoping you would be up for the challenge.”
I grin. “When do I start?”
“Does next month work?”
When faced with the option to sit at home all weekend or go to Dreamland, I make the same reasonable choice anyone else would make in my position.
“Sure, so long as Cami can come with me.”
“Of course. My assistant will send you all the details and travel info.”
I stare at the ceiling long after Rowan hung up the call and process what just happened. Working for the Kanes might not be what I expected for myself, but an experience like this would help me grow while giving me an opportunity to learn from other people. I can turn it into the adventure I always wanted.
And you achieved it all on your own.
Maybe dreams do come true after all.
I’ve had thirty days to stew in my decisions, dating back to the first time I ever took my first sip of alcohol. I wasn’t like most kids who have their first drink at a party, under the influence of too many friends and not enough brain cells.
No one was around to peer pressure me into drinking. In fact, no one was around to care at all. My brothers were always busy doing their own things and my father was rarely home before nine o’clock., which meant no one was there to intervene.
That first night, I drank because I was angry at myself for missing a goal and losing the game for my team.
The next week, I drank because my father called me a stupid fuck for failing a test.
The time after that, it was the anniversary of my mom’s death.
Slowly, drinking became a way to numb the problems. To drown out the noise until I was better able to cope with the stressors around me. Except the time to cope never came. When I was presented with adversity, I ran and repeated the same habits that got me into trouble in the first place.
I never learned from my mistakes. I was too lost in my sickness to care much beyond stopping the pain, and everyone around me, especially myself, paid the price.
