Page 127 of And Now, Back to You

“It’s not about the nature of the work,” I say, feeling like I need to put a stop to this before Maggie starts offering all of the stars in the sky and a lifetime supply of Chaps sandwiches. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to withstand it. “But ultimately, I want my career to be in television. Not radio.”

“You’ll have the same opportunities here,” Maggie counters. “Better, even.”

“I know, it’s just—” I say slowly, feeling like my heart is on a crank and I’m the one twisting the lever, holding it out and hoping that they’re careful with it. “My grandpa set his life around the morning and evening news. I would eat my cereal to the intro music and do my homework to rush-hour traffic. We’d watch the five-day forecast together before he headed down to the docks for his shift.” I tuck my hair behind my ears and fold my hands in my lap. “He still watches YBAL. The habit hasn’t budged in three decades.”

Next to me, Jackson’s attention is firmly fixed on the side of my face. His hand flexes on my knee and I shudder out a breath.

“He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s last year and it’s—it’s progressing faster than we hoped. There are days when he’s confused. When he doesn’t remember who I am.” Where he’ll look at me in confusion and forget every moment we’ve shared together. Every scraped knee. Every bedtime story. Every haircut and half-burned dinner and teenage disappointment. “But he knows Delilah Stewart, his favorite meteorologist at his favorite news station. He knows my face and he knows my voice, even when he forgets everything else.”

On his very worst days, when everyone is a stranger, he still has me. The friendly weather reporter with the sunshine smile. The habit that’s burrowed so far in his head and in his heart, the disease can’t take it.

“So, while I am grateful for the offer, I can’t give up television. Not when it’s the only thing that’ll keep me connected to my grandfather when things get worse. My hope is that after the success of this partnership, Keith will let me get back to doing what I do best.”

Maggie and Jackson exchange a long, searching look.

“I understand your reasoning, and I’m sorry for what you’re facing, Delilah. Please know there’s no expiration date on this offer. If, in the future, you find yourself looking for new opportunities, I want you to know you’ll always have a home here.”

“I appreciate that.” I bite my lip. “And I hope Jackson still gets the promotion you promised him.”

Maggie barks out a laugh. “Yes, those two things were not conditional upon each other.” She reaches back into her top desk drawer and pulls out an envelope, tossing it across to Jackson. It hits him in the middle of his chest. “Congratulations. You’ve been promoted.”

Aiden suddenly appears in the doorway, wielding a long, narrow tube. He twists the bottom and confetti explodes in the tiny office. A surprised laugh bursts out of me. Jackson flinches so hard he drops his envelope.

“Aiden,” Maggie sighs. “I said no confetti.”

“I never received that email,” he deadpans, tiny bits of colored paper stuck to his hair. With his sharp features and severe expression, the contrast is striking.

“I didn’t send it in an email, I said it to your face. A half hour ago.”

Behind me, Jackson is trying to wipe glitter off his glasses. “Were you standing outside the office this whole time?”

“Sure was. Found the confetti canons in Hughie’s stash of questionable office supplies and thought they’d come in handy.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out another tube. A quick twist of his wrist and more colored paper explodes everywhere. I grin at Jackson as the color swirls around us, hot pink paper stuck in his hair. I am of the firm belief that every meeting should start and end with confetti.

“Well,” Maggie says, sounding thoroughly done with everything. “As fun as this has been, I’d like you all to leave my office now.”

“Happily.” Jackson curls his fingers around my elbow and tries to march me bodily from the room. “Do you still have time for lunch?” he asks, his eyes bordering on desperate.

I grab his hand and twist, glancing at his watch. Disappointment settles like those little flecks of paper. “I have to be in Canton in a half hour.”

“And you”—Aiden pokes at Jackson with an empty cardboard tube—“are due in the booth.”

Jackson frowns at him over my head. “For what?”

“A meeting.”

“Since when?”

Aiden looks like he’s having the time of his life. “Since ten minutes ago.”

Jackson’s sigh is weary. I find his hand and squeeze. “It was easier in the mountains, wasn’t it?” I whisper.

Jackson squeezes back. “For so many reasons.”

It feels like it’s been one obstacle after the other since Jackson crawled into my bed and put his mouth against my skin. I got a taste of him, and now the universe is dangling the promise of it just out of reach.

I’m frustrated. A little bit sad. Confused.

“Walk me out?” I ask, doing my best to pack it away. We’ll have time, I reassure myself. He wants to figure it out too. All of this is still so new. I shouldn’t make assumptions when Jackson has proven time and time again that he shows up when it’s important.