8. Nora
CHAPTER 8
NORA
“ M om, I’m almost to the café. Can we talk about this later?” My grip tightens on my phone.
My mother sighs. “You’ve been so hard to reach lately, honey. We just want to know how things are going at work. You haven’t mentioned much since the promotion was announced.”
I dodge a cyclist zipping past on the sidewalk, and he gives me a scowl even though he is out of the bike lane. The familiar knot of apprehension twists in my stomach, weighing down each step.
“It’s… well, it’s actually not great, Mom.”
There’s a pause, and I can practically see her exchanging a worried glance with Dad. “Nora, what’s happened?”
The words catch in my throat; saying it out loud makes it all too real. But they need to know.
“I was fired,” I admit, the confession slipping out like a whisper lost in the wind.
Their disappointment is palpable even through the phone, their silence speaking volumes before they attempt to cover it with reassurances. “Oh, sweetheart, you know these things happen for a reason…”
“Maybe you could consider coming back to Rawlings for a little while?” Dad suggests, his voice laced with an underlying hopefulness.
Rawlings — where everyone knows everyone, and my every move would be scrutinized. No, my dreams are bigger than the small town I grew up in, despite its charm.
“No, Dad, I’m staying put. I’ll find something else here in Chicago. There are more opportunities.”
“But Nora—” my mother starts, only to be cut off by my firm resolve.
“Really, I’m fine. This might be good for me. A fresh start, you know?” I quicken my pace, the coffee shop sign now in sight. “I have to go, Lynn’s waiting. Love you guys.”
“Love you too, dear. Just remember we’re here for you,” Mom replies, her voice softening.
“Always,” Dad adds, just before I hit the end call button and slide the phone back into my purse.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself with the determination I need to face the day ahead.
The bell above the door chimes a quaint welcome as I step into the cozy embrace of the coffee shop. I’m immediately surrounded by the rich, earthy scent of freshly ground coffee beans and the gentle sound of indie music wafting from hidden speakers. A barista behind the counter catches my eye and offers an easy smile, but I barely return it before scanning the sea of patrons for Lynn’s familiar face.
“Over here!” Lynn’s voice cuts through the chatter, and I find her waving from our usual spot by the window. Shedding my jacket, I slide into the seat opposite her, grateful for the semblance of normalcy she brings to this tumultuous morning.
“Hey, you,” I greet her, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Rough call with the ’rents?” Lynn asks, her brows knitting together in concern as she takes in my appearance.
“Is it that obvious?” I sigh, leaning back and trying to shake off the tension in my shoulders. “Yeah, they know about the job — or lack thereof.”
“Ugh, Nora, I’m sorry.” She reaches across the table, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. Her nails are painted a bright turquoise today, always perfect-looking, just like her hair and makeup.
“Thanks. It’s not just that, though.” I hesitate, biting my lip as I contemplate how much to divulge. “They want me to move back home. To Rawlings.”
“Back to small-town life?” She tilts her head, her curly hair bouncing with the movement. “But you’re not considering it, right?”
“God, no.” The words come out stronger than I expect, fueled by my determination to cling to the life I’ve built here. “I love them, but I can’t shrink myself to fit that place again.”
She nods, understanding etched in her features. “So what happened at the firm, anyway?” she probes gently, steering the conversation back to safer waters.
“Where do I start?” I exhale, picking up the menu despite knowing I’ll order the same thing I always do. “It’s no secret that I’ve been butting heads with the senior partners over cases. Environmental law isn’t just a job for me, Lynn. It’s my calling.”
My fingers trace the edge of the menu, already feeling the absence of my office, my caseload, my purpose. “But that wasn’t it in the end. My boss put me on this sliding scale case, one that was actually doing good. And then he changed his mind. Wanted to take me off it and drop the client. When I pushed back, he fired me. I guess I’m too radical for them.”
“Radical?” Lynn scoffs, shaking her head. “It’s an environmental law firm! Since when is fighting for the planet radical?”
“Since it started affecting their bottom line, I guess.” The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.
I’ve always believed in the power of justice, in the righteousness of the law. But now? Now I’m not so sure.
“Those corporate suits don’t know what they lost,” Lynn says firmly, her gaze fierce. “You’re brilliant, Nora. You’ll find somewhere that values your passion and?—”
“Passion doesn’t pay the bills,” I interrupt, the reality of my situation sinking in. I need to find work, and fast. The city is expensive, and my savings won’t last forever.
“True,” she concedes, her expression softening. “But you’re resourceful. You’ll figure something out. You always do.”
I nod, clinging to that sliver of hope. Because if I don’t, what else do I have left?
“I’m gonna get a latte.” I start to stand, but Lynn reaches out to stop me.
“No. My treat.”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell her that I’m not poor now — not yet, anyway — but it feels nice to accept the kindness of a coffee. It’s a small, simple gesture, but it also speaks volumes.
She walks to the counter, and my eyes drift out the window. Something catches my eye — a tall, broad-shouldered man walking away. There’s something familiar about his gait. He almost reminds me of…
Could it be? Oliver?
I’ve thought about him plenty since moving back to Chicago, but he made it clear years ago that he’s not interested in being friends, so I’ve moved on.
Kind of.
He still haunts my dreams, and hardly a day goes by when he doesn’t at least flit through my mind for a few seconds. I don’t have to wonder about him because he’s all over the news on a regular basis. Once, he was even on the cover of a business magazine — a real estate mogul, a true rags-to-riches story.
I haven’t run into him here, and I probably never will. Chicago is a huge city, and we don’t run in the same circles. The Ollie I once knew is way too successful for someone like me.
Lynn returns with our drinks, and I take a grateful sip of the toasted coconut latte — a treat that I stop in here for at least once a week.
“You know,” my cousin starts, stirring her latte with a small silver spoon. “This could be the universe’s way of nudging you onto a new path. Something bigger, better.”
“Or it’s just the universe kicking me in the gut,” I quip, but my heart isn’t in the comeback. My head throbs with worry, every beat spelling out unemployment, rent, bills.
“Come on, Nora. When one door closes—” Lynn begins.
“Another opens,” I finish for her, but the platitude feels hollow. I’ve lived by them, believed in them, but today, they’re just words.
She reaches across the table, her hand warm as it envelops mine.
“You’re not alone in this,” she says firmly. “You’ve got friends, you’ve got guts, and let’s not forget — you’re a kick-ass lawyer. Any firm would be lucky to have you.”
“Thanks, Lynnie,” I respond, the tightness in my chest easing ever so slightly.
Her faith is a life raft I’m desperate to cling to. But even as she speaks, my mind races through job postings, networking contacts, anything that could lead to a paycheck.
She checks her watch. “My shift starts in fifteen. I have to go. Sorry this was so short.”
“It’s okay. Even ten minutes with you is gold.”
“Promise me you’ll keep your spirits up, okay?” She stands, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “And call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“Promise,” I lie. I have at least some pride left.
I watch Lynn walk out, her absence making me feel more hollow than I expected it to. Grabbing a lid from the to-go station, I place it firmly on top of my paper cup. The break was nice, but I can’t enjoy something like it for more than a few minutes.
Gathering my coat and scarf, I prepare to brave the Chicago winds outside. With my phone pressed to my ear, needing to schedule a meeting with a recruiter, I push through the door and?—
The collision comes as a surprise, a shock of hot liquid and the sound of fabric soaking up my clumsiness. My heart sinks into my stomach as the cup slips from my grasp, the contents splattering over the crisp white shirt of a man standing just beyond the threshold.
“Oh, gosh, I am so—” My apology dies in my throat.
It’s Oliver.
That familiar face, those eyes I haven’t seen in years except through the glossy veil of social media success stories. He’s here, in the flesh, looking even more put-together than his LinkedIn profile picture. And I’ve just drenched him in medium roast with a splash of embarrassment.
“Oliver,” I stammer, my cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m… I didn’t see you there.”
He looks down at the dark stain spreading across his shirt, then back up at me with an easy smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Nora,” he says, his voice rich and surprisingly warm. “It’s been a while.”
“Too long,” I manage, though part of me wishes it were longer still — like never.
Standing before him, I feel like a fraud, a failure grasping at straws while he’s the epitome of achievement. Here I am, fired and floundering, and there’s Oliver, probably closing deals before breakfast.
“Let me help you clean that up,” I offer, fumbling for napkins, anything to undo the mess.
“It’s fine,” he assures me, brushing off the gesture, though his ruined shirt says otherwise. “Occupational hazard of walking into a coffee shop, right?”
“Still,” I insist, my hands shaking as I dab at the stain.
I can feel his gaze on me, the silent questions hanging between us. My pulse quickens, and I realize how close we are, the scent of his cologne mingling with the bittersweet aroma of spilled coffee. Heat rushes to my face, and it has nothing to do with the caffeine soaking into his shirt.
“Really, Nora. It’s okay.” Oliver’s hand gently covers mine, stilling my frantic motions. “Accidents happen.”
“I guess,” I say lamely, giving up trying to dry his shirt.
He’s even more handsome than the photos I see online. Was that him I thought I saw on the street after all?
My face warms, and my heart races. I did my best to stay in touch with him, but he only responded to a few emails, and we never made plans to meet up. He moved on with his life after college — a life that didn’t contain space for me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Chicago’s been my home again for nearly a year,” I say, trying to sound more casual than I feel.
The words are heavy in my mouth like they’re laced with the emotions and trials of that year — the long hours, the high-stakes cases, and now, the abrupt end.
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow, his surprise genuine. “I had no idea you were back in town.”
“Yep, moved for a job at an environmental law firm.” I offer a tight smile, not wanting to delve into the “got fired” part of my story. That’s a conversation for never if I can help it.
“Environmental law, huh? That’s impressive.” He nods, and there’s something in the way he says it, a respect that feels undeserved at the moment. It makes me want to squirm out of my skin or maybe just out of this coffee shop.
“Thanks.” I’m running out of steam here, the urge to flee growing stronger with every passing second.
But there’s also something else — a flutter in my chest, a warmth that spreads despite the chill of embarrassment. It’s that same pull I felt back in school, the one that always seemed to place Oliver at the center of my thoughts when I least expected it.
“Always knew you’d do something great.”
He’s smiling now, and it’s all I can do not to get lost in it, to not fall right back into the past where we’re laughing together in the quad under a canopy of autumn leaves.
“Great is debatable at the moment.” The words tumble out before I can stop them, and I mentally kick myself.
“What do you mean?” He cocks his head in interest.
“Uh, nothing, really. Just that I’m currently unemployed.” I fiddle with my scarf, my discomfort growing. Great. Why did I just admit that? “It was nice to see you. I, uh, need to get going.”
His brow furrows. “Nora?—”
But I’m already darting around him, zipping my way out of the coffee shop. This week has already been a downhill one, and running into Ollie is the cherry on top.
As much as I always wanted to be a lawyer, once upon a time there was something I wanted perhaps even more. A boy with floppy chestnut hair and an easygoing smile.
My career crashing and burning is one heartbreak. Running into the guy who got away — the guy I never even had — is the second heartbreak I can’t take right now.
So I put one foot in front of the other, hurrying away from the coffee shop, pretending I don’t hear him calling my name.