Tumble (Dogwood Lane, #1)(67)

“Are you?”

“Absolutely. I want you to have what you deserve. You deserve this. You’ve worked very hard for this opportunity, and if it’s what you want, then I’m thrilled for you, honey.”

I wait for her to continue. When she doesn’t, I look at the ceiling. “But . . .”

“But do you think, possibly, you deserve more than they’re offering you?”

“They’re giving me a huge raise, Mom.”

She smiles faintly. “I don’t mean financially.”

The kettle is in her hand when I open my eyes. She begins to fill it at the sink, then sets it on a hot burner. My chest squeezes so tight I don’t know whether to yelp from the constriction or cry from the agony. I just know this isn’t what it’s supposed to feel like.

“You keep telling yourself all the things you’ll gain from this new job,” she says. “You list them out like it’ll hit critical mass at some point and you’ll finally be convinced it’s the right choice.”

“I don’t have to be convinced. It is the right choice.”

“Fine,” she says. She stands on her tiptoes and pulls a box of tea bags out of the cabinet next to the spice rack. “It’s the right choice. But what does this job not give you? What do you have to give up to take it? That’s what I was saying when I said what if you deserve more.”

My fingernail goes to my mouth, but I stop my finger midair. I turn it over and look at the nail as my heart sinks to my stomach. What will I give up? I cringe at the pain that settles in my chest.

Manicures with Mia. Lazy evenings with Dane. Burgers at Mucker’s while Penn tells wild tales of his exploits, and hugs from Matt that feel as natural as breathing.

Weekend drives along dirt roads and quiet mornings on the porch with coffee. Grocery stores that barely qualify and trips that require you to drive around old hound dogs lying in the middle of the road. Sunday potlucks and random conversations with Gary and margarita dates with my mom where she liquors me up to extract information.

I’ll give up all of that.

My heart splinters into a hundred jagged pieces as I get exactly what my mom is saying. The list of negatives is just as long or longer, if I’m being honest, than the list of positives. Why did I ever come back home? Why did I open this stupid door to start with?

Mom places two mugs of tea on the table and takes a seat. I follow suit because I don’t have a better option.

She lifts her mug to her lips and blows across the water. Steam whispers through the air, looking like a ballerina slipper, and I wonder if Mia would see it too.

“What are you going to do about Dane?” Mom asks. “Have you told him?”

I shake my head. A lump sits at the base of my throat, and I’m not sure I can speak over it. It feels like it’s blocking off all my air and if it moves, I’ll puke instead of breathe.

“Maybe it’s because I’m an old woman, but I was hoping things were working out between you two.”

I force the lump to the side and wait for the bile to settle. Finally, when I feel like it’s safe, I try to explain it. “Things are working out. That’s the problem.” I frown. “He’s great. Mia is great. I even turned down a job last week because of them.”

Mom flinches. “I didn’t know that.”

“I did. It was a decent offer, but it didn’t seem worth it to take. I was sort of mulling it over, and Mia called me to her bedroom and asked me to go . . .” I can’t say it. I hiccup the last words and blink back red-hot tears. When I finally am able to look at my mom, there are tears streaming down her cheeks too. “Don’t cry,” I tell her.

“You’re crying.” She sniffles. “If you hurt, I hurt.”

“I hurt by my own choice. They’re going to hurt by it too.”

A tear rolls down my cheek and splashes in the tea. I watch the water ripple around the droplet.

“They’ll understand. If this job is what you want, then you have to take it, Neely.”

“If I don’t take this, I’ll always regret it. I could stay here, marry Dane, and in ten years, look at him and blame him that I gave up on myself. I can’t do that, Mom. I can’t do that to me or to him. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not fair to either of you.” She puts her mug on the table. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll do the right thing. I have more faith in you than I’ve ever had in anyone in my life.”

We sit quietly for a long time. Mom gives me space to work through things in my head, but I don’t do that. I’m not sure I can. I certainly don’t feel the faith in myself that I can get through this.

The thought of telling Dane what’s happening is enough to have me running to the bathroom and vomiting in the toilet.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

NEELY

I scan the flights to New York. There are a couple departing late tomorrow that look good and a few the next morning. I close the lid to my computer and rest my head against my pillows.

It’s so odd to think I’ll be back in my apartment in a matter of hours. As I glance around the room and listen to my mother banging around in the kitchen, I realize how acclimated I’ve become to this place. To this lifestyle.

Despite the stress on my shoulders, I haven’t felt this relaxed in forever. Everything here happens at such a crawling pace compared with the city, and while I thought it would be boring, it’s kind of nice. It’s fun to wave at the neighbors in the morning, and the constants in life here—Blue in the road, unstable Wi-Fi, and a fish special at the Dogwood Café on Fridays—are much more pleasant than the constants of city life.