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I choke on a nervous laugh to cover the way my stomach is sinking. “Wow, I thought I’d get some time to work up to that part.”
He smiles again. “I like to address the elephant in the room first. Easy to do, I know, when it’s not my elephant.”
Fuck my life. I guess we’re doing this. Will I even get a chance to show him how much I’ve prepared?
I swallow, pressing my palms flat to the table. “I went to rehab three times. It took me a while to make it stick, but I’ve been clean for nearly six months. I know that’s a huge red flag for a lot of people, but I hope you’ll at least hear me out. I’ve researched you extensively, and I have a lot of ideas about where the company could go.”
“Three years?” he asks. “Then it took you half as long as it took my little brother to get through it.”
What?I knew his brother had flamed out during the last Olympics, but I hadn’t seen a word about substance abuse. “I had no idea. I guess he kept it out of the press.”
He shrugs. “Matt still thinks it hurts his cool-guy image if people know he’s clean, but anyway, your time in rehab isn’t a red flag for me. So, let’s hear your pitch.”
Hope is an emotion that shoots you into the clouds and leaves you in free fall when it disappears, but I’m feeling it anyway. Adam’s willing to give me a chance. He cares about what I can do, and Icando this job.
I deliver every last idea I have about the direction the company should take and the challenges that lie in taking it.
He follows up with questions, even arguing at points, but always respectfully. He’d be the perfect boss.
When I leave an hour later, I’m floating and Beck’s the only person I want to tell.
“I don’t hear from you when things go bad,” he says when I call, quiet laughter in his voice, “which means this must have gone well.”
“I don’t know,” I tell him, fumbling for my car keys. “I’m guessing every single interviewee walks out this guy’s best friend. In other words, I may be no better off today than I was after any other interview. Maybe he was just better at hiding it.”
“Or maybe you killed it, and he plans to hire you.”
God, I hope so.
Except it means living pretty far from Elliott Springs, a possibility that worries me the entire trip home.
I’m nearly back to the cabin before I realize it’s not the distance fromCalebthat worried me.
32
KATE
Iwake one week later with my leg thrown over Beck’s, his arm beneath my head.
His face is untroubled in sleep, his wide mouth relaxed. I edge closer, wishing I could see him like this all the time. Whether or not he admits it, the bar is the problem. It’s too little of what he loves and too much of what he doesn’t. He needs to be outside, moving. I tug the covers over his shoulders, remembering what he said about owning a gym. It would be perfect for him, and I might be able to help him make it happen.
When I get into work, I study the bar’s overall profitability. I’ve nearly got his financials shored up, and it’s clear he could easily sell or bring in investors, which would allow him to step away and do something else.
It’s just guilt holding him here—nothing more. I have no idea how to deal with that part, however.
“Please tell me you’re busy hunting for your dad right now,” says Rachel, stepping through the door.
“I kind of put it out of my head, to be honest.”
“Come on!” she says, throwing her arms wide. “We’re solving a mystery! Like a real-lifeCSI. Well, notCSI,obviously, because that would mean your dad had been found in a dumpster or was some kind of child rapist, but you know what I mean.”
I laugh. “Your life needs more excitement.”
“Tell Gus,” she groans, perching on the edge of Beck’s desk. “I’m no longer allowed to ride in the Jeep because it might jostle the baby, and he’s even scared to have sex—not that there’s any easy way to do that when your stomach juts out a foot in front of you.”
My heart squeezes—a single, sharp burst of pain. If Caleb and I had worried more, could we have changed things? It’s unlikely, but as Beck said when he was urging me to apply to Holzig, a one percent chance is still a chance. “Well, there are worse things than a super-involved husband.”
Her laughter comes to an abrupt stop. She places a hand on her chest. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sure it sounded like a complaint. It really wasn’t.”
