Between Hello and Goodbye(65)

“Can I ask you a question?”

She sat back. “Of course.”

“How did you make it all work?”

Cynthia thought for a moment, then spoke deliberately. “It wasn’t easy. Sacrifices had to be made, from both my husband and me. But the way through it is to choose your North star—the one thing that means the most. For us, that was our children. Doing right by them was the most important thing and any career opportunities or disappointments arranged themselves around what they needed. And if that meant I couldn’t take a promotion when it was in front of me, then I didn’t take it. Or he didn’t. But when the time was right, I made new opportunities for myself.” She leaned forward. “But only when the time was right.”

I nodded, thinking. Wasn’t Asher my North star? Or was it my career? Or was it my new-found confidence? I felt stronger, surer of myself than I’d ever been, artistically and creatively. Did I pack all that up and leave everything I’ve been building for that dinky little island? Or did I ask Asher to leave Morgan and Kal? I could never.

I held my head in my hands. “Ugh. Being an adult isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Cynthia’s eyes narrowed. “I hear you travel to Hawaii frequently.”

“As often as I can. My boyfriend lives on Kauai.”

“Hawaii is very beautiful, Kauai especially. But very remote.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Christmas vacation begins in a couple of days. Are you planning another trip?”

“Yes, but I won’t leave until after the holiday.”

“I see.”

“Asher—the boyfriend—invited me to spend Christmas with his family but I couldn’t do it. I felt like I’d be intruding or…”

“Or making a statement about your intentions?”

“Something like that,” I admitted.

“I find it’s better sometimes to be decisive, no matter how difficult. Put your North star in front of you and don’t waver.” Cynthia sat up straight in her chair. “On that note, I’ll give you the holiday, Faith, but when you get back, I’ll expect an answer about the partnership.”

“O-okay,” I said, startled by her sudden harshness.

“Have a lovely Christmas break.”

“You too.”

I rose and then stopped at the door. “The Clio awards are going to be simulcast remotely with live ceremonies happening across the globe, right?”

“That’s correct.”

I bit my lip and decided to just throw it out there.

“I just think it’s amazing what they can do with technology these days. So much can be accomplished, even by people thousands of miles apart, working…remotely.”

Cynthia met my gaze pointedly. “It is, isn’t it? But this agency prides itself on its personal touches. It’s what sets us apart. Clients want to be face-to-face with the people who are running their business and know that their product is in good hands. The rest of the world might be moving toward remote work, but our industry—this agency—is not one of them.”

That answers that question.

She straightened some papers on her desk. “Anything else?”

“No,” I said with a tight smile. “That’s about it.”



My parents were out of the country for the holidays; my mother was in Sorrento, and my father’s new wife had convinced him to do a tour of Southeast Asia. I received a standard Christmas card from both—clearly something their household staffs prepared. I spent Christmas with Silas and Max and Silas’s brother, Eddie. Everyone was wonderful and did everything they could to make me feel welcome, but I still felt like an interloper.

When Christmas Day was safely behind me, I got on a plane and flew to Kauai. I tried to look at it in a new light. An audition of sorts, imagining myself there for something that wasn’t a vacation. Cynthia’s words echoed in my head, like a door slamming shut.

The rest of the world might be moving toward remote work, but our industry—this agency—is not one of them.

“Remote being the operative word,” I muttered as the plane landed on the tiny island. Even if I managed to carve out some kind of career here, I’d still be in the middle of the ocean, hours from the rest of the country. What happened if I upheaved my life only to find out I couldn’t handle the island fever?

Same flaky Faith, only the stakes would be so much higher…

But there was a deeper question I was avoiding. One that came from my heart and was getting more insistent every day I was away from Asher. It demanded to know if it belonged to him. Handing it over to him was both the absolute only thing I wanted to do and the most terrifying. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he got sick of me? What if—?

“Shut up,” I muttered as I walked down the gangway, garnering a look from a passerby.

Asher met me at baggage claim. I clung to him, inhaling him and basking in the solidity of him. Falling into his arms felt like pieces of myself falling into place.

Like coming home?

“How was your flight?” he asked, pulling back to hold my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks.

“Long,” I said. “The kid behind me wouldn’t stop kicking my seat.”