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"Great. You'll start in two weeks. Intensive training begins tomorrow." He eyes me, his gaze speculative. "Are you ready?"
His question echoes in my head.
Am I ready?
I start to doubt myself.
I'm pregnant. How will I juggle this new job with being a mom?
A mom?
That sounds so weird right now.
I get overwhelmed. But I don't let it show.
"Yes," I tell him, my voice steady, steadier than I feel. "I'm ready."
I leave Mr. Atwood's office, my mind a chaotic swirl of emotions.
Well Bailey, you've really done it now! A promotion and a baby, all in one go. What's next? A pet unicorn to add to the chaos?
My stomach growls like a caged beast, shocking me.
Right, pregnant. That means eating for two, doesn't it? Time for lunch.
I'm standing in front of the fridge in the breakroom with the door wide open, scanning for my lunch. My eyes find the brown bag with my scribbled name on it. As I reach for the bag, another wave of hunger hits.
Damn... is this what it feels like to be a teenage boy with an insatiable appetite?
As I close the fridge door, lunch bag in hand, the gossipy voices in the hallway catch my attention. I freeze, not letting my presence be known—a real stealthy bitch, I am.
I'm really caught off guard when my name is mentioned. And then followed by, "Sloppy seconds..." The voices crackle through the hallway.
"Logan was offered the position first..." A pit forms in my stomach, my hand clutching the brown paper bag. "But he declined the offer."
I freeze. My success no longer feels sweet, instead it leaves a bitter aftertaste.
This promotion was just a result of Logan’s rejection?
Am I some joke around here?
As I slink away from the gossiping employees, I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks, burning with humiliation and anger. I suddenly feel out of place, an alien in my own territory. I slink back to my office, brown bag in hand, not feeling hungry anymore.
The taste of defeat and betrayal is too strong.
You don't belong here, Bailey,a voice whispers in my head. And I believe it.
I look around my office, my eyes drifting over the stacks of paperwork, the fancy computer, the view from the window—none of it is mine. Not really. It's all borrowed, a fake set for a play I never agreed to act in. But it's time to leave the stage.
You can start over, Bailey,the voice continues, comforting and soothing.
You can find a place where you belong, away from here, away from him.
The thought of starting over is terrifying, but it's also the most tempting thing I've ever considered.
But what about the baby? What about Logan's baby?
My hand instinctively goes to my still-flat stomach.
