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I cocked my head on my pillow. “Are you…do you want to move?”
“I’ve always thought I would eventually. I don’t want to die in the same place I grew up.” She sighed and dropped her head to my shoulder. “I say that a lot. It’s been my motto for years.”
“I wouldn’t mind moving either.”
I felt her smile against my skin. “Yeah? Then maybe we will.”
“No maybes, Cupcake. If you have dreams, I’m going to help you make them come true.”
“As long as they line up with your dreams, Spreadsheet.”
“They do. They will.”
A minute had passed when her head popped up. “Your truth. You don’t want to live in Denver forever.”
“That’s right.” I closed my eyes, remembering that day on my deck, the beginning of us, when we’d played Two Truths and a Lie. “We’ll figure it out.”
Clementine walked into my office seconds before Saoirse. Clem climbed into my lap, and Saoirse made herself at home in the chair opposite my desk.
“As long as you’re on board, I’m going to offer Rebecca the promotion to junior strategist.”
“I’m on board,” I replied. “That’ll free us both up to take jobs that require travel.”
Her blonde brow arched. “Are you looking to get out of here?”
I dug my fingers into Clem’s fur, considering how to answer. Since we’d gotten back from our California trip, I’d been restless. Not unusual for me with my ADHD, but the feeling hadn’t abated.
“Not looking, per se, but I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery.”
Her eyes flicked over my face. “You’re not…you’re not thinking of leaving the business, are you?”
“No.”
That, I could say unequivocally. Saoirse and I had started this together. Peak Strategies was the first thing I’d truly committed to. This business and the woman across from me had been the main inspiration for me getting sober. I hadn’t wanted to let her down then, and that hadn’t changed.
“I’m not leaving, but I’m feeling the need to plan.”
Saoirse leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”
“Not yet. I don’t have any concrete thoughts yet. You can count on me, Sersh. I would never leave you high and dry.”
Her mouth slowly spread into a grin. “I know you wouldn’t, Miles. And my cat likes you better than me, so how could I not trust you?”
The next day, my commitment to stay was put to the test when my mother walked through my office door. Rebecca trailed after her, trying to politely keep her from bursting into my private space, but there was no stopping her.
“It’s fine, Beck. I’ll take care of this,” I assured her.
My mother glared at Rebecca archly. “Yes. My son will take care of me. You can toddle off now.”
Rebecca scrunched her nose and mouthed, “Toddle?”
I shrugged, no explanation for the words that left my mother’s mouth. Given the early hour and knowing her habits, she was most likely blitzed on mimosas from brunch.
Rebecca left us alone, closing the door behind her. I folded my arms across my chest and faced my mother. She was sweeping her gaze over my office, her mouth puckered in distaste.
“You should have called in my designer, Frederick. He would have gone in a different direction. Something more cohesive and luxurious. Surely your clients—”
I interrupted her. I really didn’t have the will or time to listen to her opinions on my decorating skills.
