Chapter One #2
“No!” Eva whispered back, then reconsidered. “I mean, not exactly. But I found the browser history. Tiffany’s.”
Tara squealed, drawing glances from across the office. “I knew it! Two years is exactly when it happens. Adam proposed to me at two years and three days.”
“Speaking of Adam, weren’t you two supposed to go to Hawaii last month?” Eva asked.
“We did. Those photos I showed you of the sunset from our balcony? That was Maui,” Tara said, giving Eva a strange look. “Don’t you remember? I was talking about it for weeks.”
“Right, of course! The sunset was gorgeous,” Eva said quickly, embarrassed she’d forgotten. “I guess I’ve just been so caught up in planning for Cancún.”
She’d been so focused on proving herself at work—staying late, taking on extra projects, triple-checking every piece of copy—that she’d missed her friend’s vacation stories.
“You deserve it. When’s the last time you actually took a vacation?”
Eva tried to remember. “I took that long weekend to go with my parents to visit my grandma last Christmas.”
“That’s not a vacation, that’s an obligation,” Tara laughed. “I can’t believe you still have all your annual leave. Most people would kill for your vacation days.”
“I know, I know,” Eva said. “But there was the album launch, and then festival season, and then …”
“And then you just never prioritised yourself,” Tara finished for her. “Always trying to do the right thing for everyone else. When are you going to think about Eva?”
The words stung because they were true. While everyone else took their annual leave without guilt, Eva hoarded hers like evidence of dedication, proof that she wasn’t just coasting on her mother’s connections.
“Well, Cancún’s going to change that. Sun, sand, and hopefully a big shiny rock on your finger.
Then you’ll finally have caught up with your freakishly accomplished friend group. ”
Eva smiled weakly. It was true—everyone in her circle seemed to have figured life out.
Tara was happily married with a promotion already under her belt.
Courtney—her best friend since first grade when she’d shared her own Dunkaroos after Eva forgot her lunch money— had her own catering business that was taking off.
Even her college roommate Rachel, who once forgot to wear shoes to an exam, now had a thriving dental practice, twins, and a house in Belle Meade.
And then there was Eva—always reliable, always doing everything right, yet somehow still waiting for her real story to begin.
Tara glanced at her watch. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to meet with Jacqueline? The big announcement?”
Eva’s stomach flipped. Right. The promotion.
She smoothed her skirt, tucked her auburn hair behind her ear, and grabbed her notepad.
As she walked to the conference room, she tried not to think about how much she wanted this—not just because of the title or the money (though both would be nice), but because it would mean she was finally enough.
She’d earned it. She’d stayed late. Covered everyone’s mistakes. Taken on the projects nobody wanted—like the glitter budget for a C-list country singer—without losing her mind.
She deserved this.
Twenty minutes later, Eva stepped out of the conference room with a hollow smile frozen on her face.
“You’re such a valued part of the team,” Jacqueline had said warmly, handing her a Starbucks gift card like a consolation prize. “But we’re looking for someone with a little more … edge for the new role. We want you to stay exactly where you are, Eva—you’re so good at it.”
She looked at Tara and shook her head.
“You didn’t get it?” Tara asked coming over.
“Nope. It went to Blake,” Eva said moving her mouse to wake up her computer screen.
“HIGHLIGHTS?! Eva, are you joking? You have to stick up for yourself. You can’t just let other people take the credit,” Tara said sitting on top of Eva’s desk.
“That’s easier said than done,” she said. “Blake’s been here longer than me anyway.”
“No, you handled that catastrophe with the beer and fried chicken song, you came up with the idea of the Instagram trend to show off your boots for the Mississippi Mischief band that made them go mega-viral, you single-handedly saved the day when Tucker what’s-his-face threw that beer bottle from The Stage’s rooftop. ”
“I’m just doing my job,” Eva said. “Besides, everyone knows my mom got me here.”
“Yes, she did,” Tara turned Eva’s chair to face her with her foot, “but it’s you that’s put the work in ever since. Eva Coleman you are smart and capable. But hon’ no one can see that when you let people walk all over you.”
“It’s fine!”
Her phone rang and Tara hopped off her desk shaking her head.
“Monarch Music, Eva Coleman speaking.”
“Eva, it’s Mom.” The familiar drawl came through clear as a bell, as if Sandy Coleman were sitting right next to her instead of across town at her boutique ‘The Silver Spur’.
“Just checking you’re all prepared for this evening and that you remembered to pack the blue sundress I got you. The one that makes your eyes pop.”
“Yes, Mom. I am and it’s packed.”
“And your hair appointment? The highlights?”
“Done yesterday.” Eva touched her hair.
“Good girl.” A pause. “And you think tonight will be the night?”
“Mom,” Eva whispered.
“Yes?” Sandy answered.
“I didn’t get the promotion.”
“Oh, honey,” Sandy said, but there was no real sympathy in her voice. “Well, this job has never really been your passion anyway. Not like the way Lily is with her nursing degree or Maddie with her teaching. You know those practical careers are where the real security is.”
Eva furrowed her brow but bit back a reply.
Sandy had never understood her desire to be a writer, encouraging her instead towards a more ‘sensible’ path.
This was typical of her mother, to dismiss the job she’d pushed Eva into when things hadn’t gone her way.
Originally, Sandy had been thrilled when her boutique and clothing line connection landed Eva the marketing job at Monarch.
Now that the promotion was out of sight, so was her interest in Eva’s career.
“But enough about that,” Sandy continued. “What about tonight? Do you think Richard’s going to propose?”
“I don’t know that for sure, but … maybe.”
“Well, if he does, you say yes, you hear me? Richard is a catch. A tax attorney with his own condo and no student loans? In this economy? And you’re not getting any younger, Eva. Twenty-nine next month. I was married with a baby on the way at your age.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Call me the minute you get home. I don’t care how late.”
After they hung up, Eva stared at her computer screen, not really seeing the transcription she was supposed to be finishing.
She pictured Richard down on one knee at Kayne Prime, the upscale steakhouse where everyone who was anyone in Nashville went to be seen.
The ring—princess cut, she hoped, though she’d be happy with whatever he’d chosen—glinting under the soft lighting.
Their flight to Cancún was in three days, where they’d celebrate their engagement with three weeks of sun and relaxation over the Christmas holiday.
Perfect. It was all going to be perfect.
Her email pinged with a message from the studio coordinator:
Need someone to sit in on the Brooks meeting. Glitter budget for the country tour costumes. Can you take notes?
J
Eva sighed. Transcribing arguments about glitter wasn’t exactly the career pinnacle she’d imagined for herself.
Once, she’d dreamed of writing novels, creating worlds populated with characters brimming with passions and flaws.
Not documenting debates about how much sparkle belonged on a cowboy hat.
But it was fine. She had a steady pay check in a job her mother deemed acceptable, a boyfriend about to become a fiancé, and her family’s approval. What more could she want?
A memory flashed across her mind in response—a worn leather notebook, pages filled with stories she’d written late into the night during high school.
The summer she’d spent crafting a novel about a girl who discovered a hidden door in an English garden.
The acceptance letter to the writing program in Oxford.
Eva pushed the thought away. Those dreams belonged to a version of herself she’d outgrown—the messy, emotional girl who believed in magic and possibilities. That girl wasn’t practical. She’d been dismissed by her mother. That girl would never have landed Richard.
She grabbed her notepad and headed for the conference room, passing the framed gold records lining the hallway, all decorated with tiny sprigs of holly for the season.
She’d walked this corridor hundreds of times, but today she noticed something she usually tuned out—her reflection in the glass.
When had she started wearing so much beige?
“Coming, Eva?” called Jacqueline, the studio coordinator, already holding the conference room door open.
“Of course,” Eva replied, quickening her step. Tonight, Richard would propose. This weekend, they’d be in Cancún.
She had no idea the universe had other signs coming her way …
Later that evening, Kayne Prime glowed with low lighting and the quiet hum of very expensive wine lists.
Eva had curled her hair, the way Richard liked and worn heels for the special occasion.
She’d checked her reflection in the mirrored bar wall and tried to imagine what she’d look like with a diamond on her finger.
She spotted Richard at a corner table, already seated.
He didn’t stand up when she approached. Which was fine. Modern men and all that.
He did, however, give her a long look. The kind of look you give a puppy you’re about to return to the shelter. What was that for, did he know about the missed promotion?
“Hey,” she said, smoothing her dress as she sat. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” he said, adjusting his napkin. “You too.”