Page 145 of A Perfect Fit

My school applications are progressing okay, but so far, most of my job applications have been rejected—even before the interview stage.

Apparently, having CEO experience and trying to switch to a traditional employee role is challenging. I don’t know if it’s because recruiters think I’m overqualified, not willing to do nitty-gritty work, or that I’ll jump ship as soon as a more senior role comes along. I’ve tried to address these things in my cover letter, but still … nothing.

My phone on my desk starts ringing, and I reluctantly get out of bed, a throbbing pain pounding my head. My sleep has become even worse since I broke things off with Isabelle.

When I check my phone, it’s Lucy calling me.

She reached out to me, also shocked and heartbroken, after finding out about Mom and Andrew. We ended up having a long chat, and she assured me that nothing would change between us. At her encouragement, I started seeing a therapist to process my feelings about Mom’s infidelity.

My phone continues ringing.

I pick up the call, and it’s Anna’s cheery voice instead of Lucy’s, which rings through my phone’s speaker. “Hi, Uncle Jace!”

The last time I saw her was dinner at my place before everything exploded. I’d do anything to go back to then.

“Hi, Anna.”

“You sound sad.” I picture Anna frowning. “Are you sad, Uncle Jace?”

A lump forms in my throat. “I’m doing okay.”

Not really.

“I haven’t seen you and Isabelle in a long time. I miss you both.”

My heart cracks open. “Sorry, Anna.” I can’t bring myself to tell her what happened. “It’s been … busy.”

“That’s okay. Anyway, Mommy says you’re applying for a new job and architecture school. That’s amazing! I’m proud of you for following your dreams, Uncle Jace! Keep it up.” Anna giggles. “Don’t tell Mommy I used her phone to call you, though. She and Daddy won’t let me have my own phone until I’m twelve.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, a tiny smile pulls at my lips, warmth tugging my chest. “I won’t. I appreciate your encouragement, Anna.”

Anna’s right. Despite the job application rejections, I’m feeling more determined. Persistent.

For the first time in my life, I’m finally doing something for myself, and I don’t care how long it takes; I’m going to keep pushing forward and jump through as many hurdles as I have to.

More selfishly, I can’t let my conversation with Isabelle at The Daily Brew be the last we have. I just need to get my life together first.

After ending the call with Anna, I pull out my notebook and pen, flipping to a fresh page.

My therapist, Barbara, encouraged me to start journaling, and it’s been a helpful way to brain-dump my thoughts. Some days, I pretend I’m writing to Isabelle instead, telling her about my day.

After our second session this week, Barbara gave me a homework assignment—to spend thirty minutes doing something that makes me happy, something solely for me.

So, today, I do just that. I start sketching a floor plan of my dream house, letting my creativity lead me and pretending there are no limitations. It has four bedrooms, a pool, a spacious kitchen, a library, and a fashion studio.

The end product is messy and full of scribbles and nowhere near professional, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel imperfect at all.

And then I realize I only included a library and a fashion studio because of Isabelle—because she’s the only woman I envisage building my dream house with, the only woman I want to spend forever with.

I asked Aaron to ask Jen if Isabelle was doing okay, and I heard she’d been busy with work. I wonder what she’s doing right now. She’s probably occupied with final preparations for her fashion show.

God, I wish she were with me, wish I could cuddle and kiss her again.

My vision blurs, and I close my eyes, swiping my palm down my face. When I reopen them, there’s a spot in my sketch that’s blurred—wet from a teardrop that fell onto the paper.

The sudden sound of the front door unlocking causes my ears to perk up.

What the hell?