Chapter 52 End Game
End Game
Ali
Ali sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop open, the soft hum of her ceiling fan the only sound in the room. A cold Diet Dr. Pepper sat sweating on her nightstand, and her inbox was open beside a dozen tabs of job listings.
Accounting positions near Orlando.
She’d typed it in half an hour ago. The results blinked back at her now, a blur of CPA firms and corporate listings that didn’t mean much yet. She clicked through one, then another, scanning benefits and qualifications, but nothing quite clicked.
Still… her heart knew what she wanted. She wanted to be with him.
Dylan’s life was in Orlando. His teammates, his season, his rhythm. And maybe she couldn’t rewrite the past—but she could build something new alongside him now. She wanted to find her own footing, not live in his shadow, but with him. Not miles away.
She stared at her phone for a moment, then opened her contacts and tapped Kallie’s name.
It rang twice before a smooth, no-nonsense voice answered. “This is Kallie.”
Ali’s voice was a little breathless, unsure. “Hey, it’s Ali Presley. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“Not at all,” Kallie said, her tone instantly warmer. “I was wondering when you’d call. What's up?”
Ali exhaled a nervous laugh. “I, um… I was wondering if you might be able to help me look for a job. In Orlando. Accounting or finance, preferably. And if you maybe know someone who could help me find an apartment…”
There was a beat of silence. Then Kallie’s voice, gentle but sharp with understanding.
“Does Dylan know?”
Ali shook her head, then realized Kallie couldn’t see her. “Not yet. I wanted to… I guess I wanted to make sure it wasn’t just a fantasy before I said anything. I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it for me—but yeah, I want to be near him.”
Kallie’s smile was practically audible. “I respect the hell out of that.”
“I still want to be independent,” Ali added quickly. “I don’t want to just… become Dylan’s shadow, you know?”
“You won’t. You’re too damn smart for that.”
Ali smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing.
“I’ve got some names I can send you,” Kallie said. “And I’ll ask around about apartments. You’d be surprised how many boutique firms in this town would fight for someone with your credentials. You’re licensed in Florida too, right?”
“Yeah. Dual-state certified since last year.”
“Even better,” Kallie said. “Send me your resume tonight, and I’ll make a few calls tomorrow.”
Ali blinked back tears. “Thank you. Really.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you see what downtown rent looks like,” Kallie said with a laugh. “Talk soon, Presley.”
As the call ended, Ali set her phone down and leaned back against her pillows.
She wasn’t sure when—or how—she’d tell Dylan.
But for the first time in a long time…the future didn’t scare her.
Ali had just settled in at her desk with a fresh cup of coffee—her favorite mug, chipped at the rim and reading "Accountants Make It Count"—when her phone buzzed.
Kallie:
Check your email. I found someone you need to talk to.
Ali’s stomach flipped. She nearly sloshed coffee onto her keyboard as she set the mug down and opened her inbox. There it was—an email forwarded from Kallie with a short, clipped message at the top:
“Ali, This is Camden Vaughn. Managing partner at Vaughn & Ellis, downtown Orlando. Smart guy, good firm. Boutique-size but with a strong client roster.He’s intrigued. Interview is Friday at 11. Dress like a badass. — K.”
Ali blinked at the screen, rereading the words.
Interview. This Friday.
The email below was short and professional—Camden thanking her for her interest, asking if she’d be willing to set up a preliminary meeting on Zoom. It wasn’t just real now—it was happening.
She clutched the phone to her chest, the kind of giddy nerves bubbling up that made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Her fingers hovered over her screen before she typed:
Kallie. Are you magic? Be honest.
The reply came almost immediately:
Nope. Just extremely well-connected and slightly terrifying when I need to be. ?? You’ve got this. Let me know if you need anything before Friday.
Ali exhaled, heart racing, then tapped open her calendar.
Now she just had to figure out:
What to wear,
How to tell Dylan, and
How not to puke from excitement and nerves at the same time.
Ali adjusted her laptop camera for the third time and smoothed the front of her blouse. She’d kept it simple—a pale blue top, soft waves in her hair, and light makeup that said “I am a competent professional who also gets eight hours of sleep and drinks green juice.” Lies. But polished ones.
She took a deep breath and clicked the Zoom link.
It loaded with a soft chime, and a man appeared on screen—mid-40s, sharp suit, salt-and-pepper hair, and an easy smile.
“Ali, hi! Camden Vaughn. Thanks so much for hopping on today.”
“Of course. Thank you for meeting with me,” she said, praying her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.
He dove right in, asking about her resume, her accounting work, and how she handled client relationships.
The questions were fast but fair, and Ali held her own.
Camden’s expression didn’t shift much—but she caught the slight lift of his brow when she described streamlining one of her firm’s reconciliation processes.
They were deep into a conversation about long-term goals when she heard the front door creak open.
Dylan’s voice floated down the hallway. “Babe?”
Ali froze. She didn’t answer—just sat a little straighter and hoped to god the mic didn’t pick him up.
“...and we really value independence in this role,” Camden continued. “Our team is tight-knit, but we don’t micromanage.”
Ali smiled and nodded, ignoring the soft footsteps drawing closer.
Dylan peeked his head around the corner, brows pulling together. Question mark face. She widened her eyes and waved him off under the desk.
He mouthed something—Are you okay?—but she ignored it, forcing her attention back to the screen.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Small house.”
“No worries,” Camden chuckled. “Mine’s not much bigger. Last week my toddler walked in naked during a partner call.”
Ali let out a breath of laughter. “That makes me feel slightly better.”
Camden smiled. “Listen—I like your energy. Kallie vouched for you, and I trust her judgment. I’d love to schedule a follow-up and talk about what a role could look like with us.”
Ali blinked. “Really?”
“Absolutely. You’ve got great instincts. And frankly, we’re overdue for someone with your mix of precision and warmth.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, heart pounding.
“Talk soon,” he said, and the screen blinked to black.
Ali exhaled hard and slumped back in her chair. Her phone buzzed immediately—
Kallie:
?? Well??
Ali grinned down at it but didn’t get a chance to type. A shadow passed the door.
Dylan leaned against the frame, one brow raised. “Sooo…what was that?”
She looked up at him, suddenly flushed. “What?”
“You waving me off like I was about to interrupt a nuclear summit.”
Ali bit her lip.
He stepped closer. “You gonna tell me what’s going on, or…?”
She hesitated.
Then—“Maybe.”
He squinted at her. “Did you just job interview hide from me?”
Ali grinned. “Possibly.”
Dylan crossed his arms, mock-serious. “Is this a secret mission or am I allowed to be excited?”
Her face softened. "It went well. There’s gonna be a second interview.”
Dylan’s expression shifted—surprise, then pride, then something almost reverent.
“You’re incredible,” he said. “You know that?”
She blushed. “I’m trying.”
He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled her up into a hug.
“You’re not trying,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re doing it.”
She felt guilty about not telling him her plan, but she wasn’t ready yet.