Chapter 3
As I stepped onto the porch of my childhood home, the one I was now temporarily sharing with my dad and sister, I couldn’t stop replaying every detail of my interview.
I’d like to think that if I’d known beforehand that my future client would greet me in the nude, thinking I was there for sex, I wouldn’t have even bothered to show up.
But that was the first interview I’d been to in months, and the harsh reality was, I had no other options left.
I was thankful Lance had hired me, but deep down, I wondered if I would regret my decision.
“Just make the best of it,” I mumbled as I opened the front door and stepped inside, leaving the day’s events behind me. The aroma of freshly baked cake filled the air, mingling with the sweet scent of vanilla frosting.
From the entrance I could see straight into the kitchen, and there on the island was a lit birthday cake. My dad and Abby greeted me with glowing smiles as I walked toward them, our grins mirror images.
“Happy birthday!” they shouted, the numbers two and nine flaming brightly on top.
Another year had passed, and sadly, I was still no closer to the dream I’d had for myself.
I’d wanted it all: a satisfying career and a family, but I would’ve settled for at least one of them.
But here I was, childless, in the middle of a divorce, and starting all over again with a job I was unsure of.
“Make a wish,” Abby said, pointing toward the cake.
As I blew out the candles, I whispered a silent prayer, hoping that the universe would conspire to make my wish of finding some meaning for my life come true.
Our dad plucked the two wax numbers from the cake and tossed them on the counter, licking icing from his finger.
The man was fifty-eight years old and had a full head of chocolate-colored strands. He didn’t have a strand of gray hair. I suspected he colored his hair, but never found any evidence to support my assumption.
“How did your second interview go?” he asked.
Various responses rattled through my head, but if I regaled him with the entire story, he would not only try to talk me out of taking the job, but he’d show up and give Jackson a piece of his mind for mistreating his daughter.
Our father was very protective of his girls, which was one of the reasons I never told him about the issues in my marriage while I was still with Mitch.
“I got the job.”
They both delighted in unison, our dad hugging me before my sister slung her arm over my shoulder to pull me closer.
“Now we have double cause to go out and celebrate,” Abby said, handing me a piece of vanilla cake.
“I’m not in the mood to go out. I’d much rather stay in, watch a movie, and eat my weight in dessert.
” The white frosting slid over my tongue, and I released a tiny moan of appreciation.
I tried to eat as healthy as I could, but there were days when I indulged.
And my birthday was one such time. Not to mention, after the day I’d experienced, I had every excuse to smother my thoughts and feelings with dense sugar.
“Because you’re my favorite sister, I’ll allow it.
” She wrapped her lips around a large forkful of cake.
She physically took after our dad, with her dark hair and almond-shaped eyes.
They even had the same smile. I, on the other hand, resembled our mother with my dark red hair and light blue eyes.
My father often told me how much I looked like her, and whenever he did, he seemed to be lost in thought.
Our mom died from breast cancer a year after she had Abby, so I was only seven. I barely remembered her but had countless pictures of her to gaze at whenever the mood struck.
“I’m your only sister,” I countered, diving into a second bite.
Abby was twenty-three, six years younger than me.
I couldn’t imagine my life without her, especially considering she was my only friend as of late.
Unfortunately, I’d become distant from everyone I used to be close to because I’d allowed my ex-husband, Mitch, to alienate me from my friends.
It’d been one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
Nonetheless, I had every intention of reconnecting with them, but I wanted to get settled before I made contact.
I was embarrassed enough to be going through a divorce before the age of thirty.
I wanted to secure a job and move out of my dad’s house so I didn’t feel like a complete failure.
With each forkful of flour and sugar, I pondered the best way to break the news to my family that not only would I be moving out, but I’d be gone by this weekend.