“No job you’re qualified for will bring in the kind of money Jeremy makes. You realize you can forget about the country club membership and skiing in Tahoe and your Christmases in Palm Springs, right?”
I pull open a cabinet door and the whole thing snaps off the hinges. “I never cared about any of that in the first place.” I hated the big, soulless house Jeremy chose without my input. I hated those trips he’d take us on, constantly jostling to be seen by the right people, putting on a show of his parenting only when there was an audience.
“Yeah, that’s easy to say until you realize what it’s like to live without it. And your kids might have liked those things you claim you don’t care about. Whatever. I just hope you aren’t under the impression that I’m going to help you out when it falls through.”
I give a small, bitter laugh. “Have no fear, Mom. I never thought for a minute you’d be helping us.” She doesn’t lift a finger for anyone but herself, which is, no doubt, why my aunt set up her will to keep the house in trust for me until I became an adult—so that it would remain out of my mother’s reach.
“You think you’re so smart, Lucie, but mark my words: you’re going to regret what you’re doing here.”
No shit, Mom. I’ve only been gone for five days and I’m already full of regret.
I end the call and get on with the process of getting the kids ready. Sophie cries about having to go to aftercare the entire way to school and Henry is unusually pensive, staring out the window. They barely say a word as they walk to class, and my phone is already buzzing with incoming texts from Jeremy, the ones he sends every morning, intended to ruin my day.
JEREMY
Your mom told me about your job. You couldn’t even remember to buy toilet paper, so I hope their expectations are low.
This is his specialty, finding some stupid mistake I’ve made and throwing it in my face endlessly. And it’s hard to argue when I’m about to leave my children miserable at school, am nearly out of gas, and may well lose my job today. It’s barely eight in the morning and I already want to give up.
I arrive at work on fumes and smile at Kayleigh as I walk in. She looks at me blankly, as if I’m a ghost or perhaps simply an employee she knows won’t be back tomorrow.
Turn this around, Lucie, I command as I walk to my cubicle. Yes, things look bad, and your mother has taken your cheating exhusband’s side, but…turn this day around.
I’m still saying it when I open my laptop to find an email from Caleb:
See me as soon as you get in.
There is no greeting, no signature. It’s the email you send someone who has really fucked up or is about to get fired, and every ounce of determination I had seconds before fails me. I rise slowly from my chair, forcing my feet forward. I looked at jobs online last night but was too tired to send out resumes. It appears I should have.
The phone in my hand chimes just as I reach Caleb’s door. I’m certain it’s Jeremy telling me I’m stupid or losing my looks, and whatever it is, I’ve no longer got the energy to fight. My mother, Jeremy, Caleb—I officially concede to any or all.
I enter Caleb’s office, and his gaze moves over me, head to foot, before he swallows and looks away.
Go ahead, Caleb, fire me. I give up.
“I’m approving the walking program,” he says.
What?
It’s shocking enough that I’m not in here to be fired, but did he like the idea? I straighten. “That’s—”
“Have it ready to present to the executive committee on Friday and I’ll need some results for an interview the following week.”
I freeze. Results? What he’s asking is impossible. I need Molly to create the software that will track the miles. I need to arrange the prizes, figure out how the hell to divide up teams when employees are leaving in droves, and promote it to the entire freaking company. Even with a staff at my disposal, I couldn’t have results in a week.
Yet…it doesn’t take away from the thrill of having succeeded at something, and I want him to admit it because he was kind of a jerk yesterday. “So you were impressed?”
He shifts a folder in front of him and releases a sigh. “This was the board’s decision, not mine. I thought you understood the assignment, which was not to come in with something they’d be wowed by.”
If he was a stranger, I’d be intimidated by this conversation. I might apologize. But this is the same boy who used to whoop as he raced down to the water, the same boy who used to stand on a floating inner tube and beat his chest like an ape until his friends made him capsize. The same boy who was consistently kind to me at a point in my life when no one else was. He doesn’t scare me, even if he should.