“You know, moving all the way to New York, thinking you’ll build a whole new career as a writer...”
I raise my eyes to the ceiling. “It’s not a whole new career, Mum. I did work at the paper for several years, remember?”
“But that was just a little paper, darling. It’s a bit unrealistic to think it would lead to some big, fancy New York job.”
I give an exasperated sigh. I don’t have the energy to explain that it’s not a big fancy job—and it’s not like she’d listen. She doesn’t believe I can do it and that’s all there is to it.
Anyway, maybe she’s right. After all the articles I’ve written for Justin, I’ve heard nothing about the position. I’ve got nothing to show for my time over here.
Oh, hang on. That’s not true at all. I’ve met a lovely man—a man who makes me feel like anything is possible. Mum was so against the idea of me staying single, so surely she’ll be excited to hear I’ve met someone.
“There is something else, though, Mum. I’ve met a guy.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He’s my neighbor. He’s a writer as well. He’s a great guy and—” I snap my mouth shut. That was close. I almost, without even realizing it, said, “I think he could be the one.”
As in The One.
Bloody hell. That thought hit me out of nowhere, but now that it’s here, I can’t help but think, well… shit. I think he is.
There’s a flurry of nerves in my stomach and I have to force myself to take a deep breath. When I arrived in the city I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again—I wouldn’t let myself get swept up in some fairy-tale romance—because I always end up hurt and disappointed. It was fine when we were just fooling around at Michael’s cabin, but now we are back in the city and I’ve met his ex-wife and been to hospital with his son and there’s no denying we are in a full-on relationship. He told me he was falling for me. And I’m… well, I don’t even want to think about what I’m feeling. It’s terrifying.
But when I picture Michael’s face, when I think of the things he says to me and the way he holds me, I don’t feel terrified in the slightest. Because this is something else. This is it.
“He’s what, Alexis?” Mum barks impatiently, and I jump.
“Sorry. He’s just… he’s really great,” I murmur, smiling to myself. I wait for her reply but the line is thick with silence, and I feel myself bristle. “What?”
“I’m sure you think he’s nice, darling. But that’s what you thought about Travis, isn’t it?”
I frown. “Well, yes. But—”
“You do have a tendency to do this sort of thing. You’ve only been over there for a few months and you already think you’ve found Prince Charming! I thought you went over there to write, Alexis. That’s what you’ve been carrying on about this whole time.”
“Well...” I swallow down the sense of unease rising inside me. “I can do both.”
“But you’ve already given up on your writing,” she says, and anger flares in my chest.
“I haven’t given up on it,” I snap. For fuck’s sake. Here I was thinking she’d be pleased I’d met someone after her negative reaction to me being single, but now she’s just finding reasons to be negative about this! Why does nothing I do ever make her happy?
My phone pings and I pull it back to see an email from Justin flash up on the screen. My heart jerks. “Mum, I’ve got to go.” I end the call and, with shaking hands, open Justin’s email. And there, on the screen, is the news I’ve been waiting for.
I’ve got the job.
40
I knock quietly on Michael’s door, not wanting to wake Henry. My whole body is fizzling with nervous energy. I’ve spent all evening thinking about the job offer from Justin. Apparently it wasn’t so unrealistic to believe I could get a job as a writer over here. I’ve worked my butt off and earned this, and that feels good.
Well, it’s bittersweet. Mel obviously hasn’t said anything to Justin about Michael, but it’s only a matter of time. There’s no doubt in my mind she’ll make good on her threat if she wants to.
I’m trying to tell myself it’s okay. I’ve made my choice and that’s being with Michael. I feel bad for letting Justin down, and I guess I could ask to write about something else, but Mel did say that was unlikely. Besides, I’ve spent the past month proving I can write about being single. To ask for something else now wouldn’t be fair. I’ll just have to let it go. Maybe I’ll do what Michael suggested; focus on my romance novel and see if I can do something with that.
I can’t deny how torn I feel, though. I wanted this job and now that I’ve finally got it, I have to give it up. And while I know that’s the right choice, I still feel uneasy about it. Mum’s words echo through my head—I thought you went over there to write—and I keep trying to push them away. I know that if I can just see Michael, just talk to him about all this, I’ll feel better.
The door swings open. He’s standing there in a navy blue T-shirt that shows his muscular arms, his hair is slightly mussed, and he’s visibly struggling to contain his grin. “Hey, beautiful.”
Oh God. I feel better already.
“Hi.” I bite my lip at the sight of him, feeling strangely shy. “How’s Henry?”
“He’s great.” Michael’s eyes track over me, then without warning he pins me up against the door frame and claims my mouth with a blistering kiss. Heat pools in my belly, spreading out along my limbs. I get a mental image of Agnes catching us and have to stop myself from giggling.
“How is it possible that I missed you so much after only one day?”
