“Go back to sleep,” I whisper in her ear. I slip out of bed and tuck the covers close around Greer’s sleeping form before I pad from my bedroom to the kitchen. A pile of mail from yesterday afternoon sits on my concrete countertop, and I frown at it while debate whether or not to open it.
Later, I decide.
You can’t blame me for being a little gun shy, but email, I can do.
Two giant computer monitors sit on my desk at the WanderWell offices, but I always bring my laptop home with me to catch up on stray bits of work. I slide the computer out of my messenger bag now and let my emails load while I start a pot of coffee brewing. Might as well get ahead today so I don’t have to play catch-up on Monday.
I browse through the list with sleepy eyes, sorting emails into folders to take action later.
There’s a meeting invite for another one-on-one with Damien.
There’s a message from Eden—Re: Holiday party recap!
And buried halfway between an email from one of my UX designers and a conference announcement, there’s a message from WanderWell human resources.
I sit down in my chair with my spine stiff, then slowly click open the message.
Dear Lachlan Mills,
Hello! It’s a great day for us, as we have exciting news to share: WanderWell is pleased to confirm our offer to you for the position of Content Experience Manager reporting to David Brinkley.
The email continues, detailing my new office location and a salary so staggeringly high it feels gluttonous, but I can’t do more than skim the highlights while a numb sensation spreads down through my fingers.
Everything I thought I wanted is there in the letter, but it’s also right here in my apartment, with the gorgeous woman still asleep in my bed.
No matter how much I want it, I can’t have both.
My stomach twists and I force a deep breath in through my nose, dragging the scent of Christmas trees and fresh coffee into my lungs. Then I fumble for my cell phone and draft a text to my sister. I haven’t talked to Maggie since yesterday’s revelation about my dad, and even though we need to go into that conversation on a different day, right now I need to share my secret with someone who loves me either way.
I got it.
Maggie’s reply comes through a minute later in a series of emojis—thumbs up, praise hands, and a giant smile.
Atta boy, kid. You tell Greer?
Fuck.
Fuuuuuck.
My fingers tighten around the edges of my phone. You’re the first to know, I send back.
Good luck, she sends.
I’ll need it.
I set down my phone and hunch over my computer to reread the offer and let the words sink in. I don’t have to decide anything today, but that doesn’t mean I have forever, either.
“Hey, you okay?”
I slam my laptop shut at the sound of Greer’s voice and spin to face her. She’s wearing one of my old T-shirts, and in it, she looks so perfectly mine that I have to pause to catch my breath.
“Yeah,” I cough out. “Why?”
“You look like you’re about to growl at your computer.”
I run a hand over my chest and offer her a smile I wish I could feel. “That’s what I get for checking in on work on the weekend.” I make a show of unplugging my laptop and stowing it back in my bag, pretending like nothing is wrong. I can shove aside my feelings about the job to unpack later, just like I’ve stowed away my anger and sadness about my dad. Right now, I’m here.
For what it’s worth, Greer doesn’t seem to notice my distraction. Her eyes are bright with amusement as she taps a finger to her lips. “You know, we never did cut the netting off the tree.”
I follow her gaze to the Christmas tree, still bundled from its journey home like a bottle brush shoved into a pair of fishnet stockings. “There are some scissors in the kitchen drawer next to the fridge.”
Greer roots around in the drawer and produces the scissors, then walks across the room to snip the netting. The tree’s piney boughs spring loose from the grasp of the plastic, filling the room with another wash of Christmas tree scent and showering fresh needles onto the floor.
I groan softly at the mess. “I should have put down a tree skirt or something.”
“Do you have one?”
“Nope.”
“Which I’m guessing means you don’t have ornaments or lights either.”
I grin. “Guilty as charged.”
“Sounds like a problem you need to fix.” Greer pauses and delivers her next words cautiously. “I mean, if you aren’t doing anything today, we could go shopping together.”
The hesitation in her voice makes my chest go tight. If she thinks for a second that the answer is anything but yes, she hasn’t been paying attention at all.
“Greer, there’s no place I’d rather be than with you.”
Her smile is electric, making the knowledge of my offer letter ache like a punch to the gut. The more time I spend with Greer, the harder it becomes to make my choice.
I swallow down a spike of pain and steeple my hands under my chin. “Where do you recommend we shop for decorations?”
Greer’s look turns so devilishly excited I know I’m in trouble, but I’ll do anything to indulge her whims. She claps her hands together, and her blue eyes shine like, well, Christmas. “Have you heard of my best friend Target?”
“Remind me again why I agreed to come here?” Target’s holiday section looks like first Christmas threw up in the store and then a tornado came through. Red shopping carts litter the aisles, and stray ornaments skitter across the floor, kicked by distracted shoppers combing the store looking for
