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“Yes.”
“Fine. Be ready in an hour,” he said and hung up the phone.
Rising from the steel chair on a big exhale, I walked to the bathroom and splashed water onto my face. Staring in the mirror, I gave myself one last pep talk before I spoke to Cheryl. You got this, Frances. I’d never quit anything before, but oddly, this didn’t feel like quitting. It felt like living.
Straightening my gray blazer, I walked up to Cheryl. “I’m leaving,” I said.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked with a hand on her hip.
“I quit,” I said.
“You owe me two weeks’ notice,” she called after me.
Without bothering to turn around, I shouted back, “Like you said, Cheryl, I don’t owe you anything.”
***
Exactly one hour later, Colton’s car pulled into my driveway. Somehow, I’d showered and packed a bag in that short amount of time.
“Francesca, there’s someone at the door for you,” my grandmother shouted. I smiled, recalling Colton’s security system versus mine. Nonna must have spotted the car while sitting in the living room watching Wheel of Fortune. I didn’t understand how she loved that show so much when she never once guessed the phrase correctly.
“Coming,” I said, and heaved the overnight bag over my shoulder.
“Is that Colton’s car?” asked Marco as I walked past the bathroom.
“Yes.”
“I thought that was over,” he said.
“It is.”
“It doesn’t seem over to him.”
“It’s not what you think. It’s complicated.” I tried to move past him, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “Try me.”
Adjusting the strap, I said, “A client specifically asked for me. Colton needs me to show up at this man’s cabin to get this deal done.”
“And what do you get?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I get my two weeks' pay and a reference letter.”
“Sounds like he’s getting a lot more out of this arrangement.”
“Look, Marco. I appreciate your concern, I do. But I can take care of myself.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, the truth behind them straightened my spine. I’d never given myself credit for walking out on Chris. I may have allowed him to yell at me and call me names, but I’d left him. No one had rescued me. I had to rely on myself to get out of that situation. For the last few years, I hadn’t permitted myself to be proud of myself. Focusing instead, on all the things I’d done wrong, like how I’d stayed for too long.
But I’d never given myself credit for leaving. If I’d shut myself off from the rest of the world, since meeting Chris, hoping no one would see me for the mess I thought I was, I now felt like I’d opened the door—just a little bit. Perhaps it was enough to let the old me back out.
“Be careful,” he shouted as I ran down the stairs. My mom would shout this to us every time she heard us running to the steps and we always quipped back the same response.
“Holding onto the railing, mom,” I said, chuckling.
He popped his head over the balustrade. “I meant to be careful with your heart.”
Caught by surprise, I looked up to catch his gaze. The concern on his face tightened my chest. “I will,” I said and walked out the door.
Colton stood next to his car, wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white cashmere sweater. I hated the way my heart did a little somersault against my ribcage whenever I saw him.
