24. The Pivotal Decision #3
That hits too close. I take a longer drink.
She nudges me with her knee. “Look, if this leadership thing at Nexus is something you want, you shouldn’t turn it down just because your boyfriend might move to Ohio.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But if I take it, that’s me planting myself here. That’s me choosing roots over… whatever future version of us he’s imagining.”
Hazel leans back. “I’ll be honest. You two are one of the strongest couples I’ve ever seen, but you can’t live your whole life adjusting around someone else’s dream. Love doesn’t mean shrinking your world.”
I frown. “I’m not shrinking.”
“But you’re hesitating,” she says softly. “Not because the offer isn’t right for you—but because you’re afraid choosing it means losing him.”
The words sit heavy between us.
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’re allowed to have a life that doesn’t orbit his. Healthy relationships have two centers of gravity.”
I sit quietly for a moment, letting the logic sink in even though my heart doesn’t like the shape of it.
“I’ll talk to him,” I say eventually.
“And he’ll listen,” she replies. “He loves you like crazy, Ames. He’s just twenty and stressed and hasn’t had to think about the impact of his dreams on anyone but himself.”
I let out a breath that feels almost like relief. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right,” she says, tossing her hair. “Now drink the rest so I can pretend we’re fine.”
The next morning, I drop Liam at daycare and sit in my car for a minute longer than usual. Reid sent a good-morning text—normal, sweet, nothing about the heaviness stuck between us—but the quiet from last night still lingers under my ribs. At work, Eric catches me on my way to my desk.
“You think about the offer?” he asks.
I freeze. “You know about it?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “I recommended you. So… yes.”
My chest tightens. “It’s a big step.”
He crosses his arms. “You’re already doing half the job. You might as well get the title and the money.”
“It’s not the job I’m unsure of,” I admit. “It’s everything that comes with saying yes.”
Eric studies me for a long moment. “Campbell, if you want this—take it. Careers don’t pause because you’re waiting for someone else’s map of the future to line up with yours.”
My throat tightens again. “Why is that the theme of everyone’s advice today?”
“Because we’re all right,” he says flatly. Then his expression softens. “You can love someone without disappearing into their plan. Stability isn’t selfish.”
He walks off before I can answer.
I sit at my desk and stare at the leadership email for several minutes. I hover over the “accept meeting” button but don’t click. Not yet.
That evening, I pick up Liam from daycare, cook pasta he throws onto the floor with zero remorse, and try to breathe past the swirl in my head. My phone buzzes again—Destiny this time.
Destiny: I’m coming over.
I open the door before she knocks. She steps inside with her tactical energy and a bag of takeout.
“Eat,” she orders, handing me a container.
I crack a smile despite everything. “Did Hazel call you?”
“She said you need a non-romantic perspective,” Destiny says, sitting stiffly on the couch like comfort is an abstract concept she sometimes hears about.
I sit beside her. “Reid wants to apply to grad schools out of state. I got offered a leadership track. And everything feels like it’s pulling in opposite directions.”
Destiny stabs her food with unnecessary force. “Okay. So don’t throw away your future for some guy.”
I sigh. “He’s not just some guy.”
She tilts her head. “Fine. Don’t throw away your future for the guy. Better?”
“You’re very comforting.”
“I’m not here to comfort,” she says. “I’m here to say the thing you’re avoiding: your life can’t stop because his is still forming.”
I swallow hard. “I’m not trying to stop anything. I just… want us to fit.”
“Do you?” she asks. “Or do you want your relationship to survive every decision by willpower alone? Because that’s not realistic.”
Her bluntness stings, but not in a wrong way.
“What if choosing the job means choosing a life without him?” I whisper.
Destiny looks me dead in the eye. “Then he wasn’t meant for the version of you who’s actually living, not dreaming.”
My breath catches.
She sets her food down. “Look, I like Reid. He loves you. I’m not saying break up with him. I’m saying stop assuming sacrifice is the only way to keep a relationship alive. If he wants a future with you, he should be willing to bend too.”
I nod slowly, absorbing each word like it’s a blueprint I’m not sure how to read yet. Liam toddles into the room then, dragging a toy truck and babbling nonsense at both of us. Destiny picks him up awkwardly, like someone holding a live grenade, and hands him back to me.
I laugh, tension easing just a little. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” she says. “Just make the decision for you. Not for him.”
When she leaves, the apartment feels larger, like her bluntness cleared some of the fog.
I settle on the couch after putting Liam to bed.
The leadership email glows from my laptop.
Reid’s texts sit unanswered in my notifications—not ignored, just…
paused, because this one decision feels too heavy to text around.
I read the job description again. The responsibilities.
The expectations. The promise of stability, advancement, security.
My cursor hovers over the “schedule meeting” button.
My chest tightens. Because accepting means choosing a future here.
Rejecting means choosing a future that doesn’t yet exist—one tied to someone whose dreams stretch far beyond the state we’re standing in.
Neither choice feels clean. Neither feels simple.
Both feel like they’ll ripple through the rest of our lives. I don’t click.
Not tonight. The chapter closes with the decision still suspended in the air—waiting, heavy, inevitable. And I know the moment I tell Reid, everything between us shifts. Even if neither of us wants it to.