Chapter 39
39
PORTIA
I woke up early. I didn’t think I actually slept. Last night had been strange. Usually, I would hang out at Dean’s place or he would be here. But last night, he practically fell off the face of the earth. I texted him and asked if he wanted to come over for dinner. He told me he was busy.
Busy?
I knew he wasn’t. I couldn’t deny I had been a little jealous. He rolled up close to midnight and didn’t even bother texting me goodnight. It was hard not to think he might be out with someone else. But that was my own insecurity. Dean was a womanizer, but when he told me we were together, I believed him.
I rolled out of bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, and stared at the ceiling. My mind kept circling back to Dean’s abrupt exit last night. He’d kissed me, sure, but it felt off. Distant. Like he was already halfway out the door before his lips even touched mine. I sat up, running a hand through my messy hair, trying to shake the weird feeling that had settled in my chest.
Maybe it wasn’t about me. I knew he was stressed out about the Seth stuff. Maybe that was what had him withdrawing. I wouldn’t push. Not yet. Still, I couldn’t shake the look on Dean’s face when I told him about the call from San Francisco. He hadn’t said much, just nodded. And then he’d left in a hurry.
I walked into the kitchen and started the coffee pot and then headed into the bathroom. It wasn’t just Dean’s withdrawal that left me sleepless last night. It was the San Francisco thing. That job had been the dream. At least it had been the dream a few months ago. Now, it wasn’t as clear.
I took my phone and pulled up my email while filling my cup with coffee. There were a couple of inquiry requests from potential clients. Obviously, that made me smile. I sent Dean my usual good morning text and hopped in the shower.
When I got out of the shower, I checked my phone. There was no reply. He did get home late last night. He was probably asleep. I would check in with him later. I got into the office, turned on the lights, and settled in at my desk. I pulled up my email once again. And there was one that caught my attention. I clicked on it and read.
Partnership track.
Six-figure salary.
But that wasn’t what had me shell-shocked. They wanted me in San Francisco in two weeks.
Two weeks.
My pulse thundered in my ears. This was everything I’d worked for in New York. Everything I’d thought I wanted. So why did my chest feel like it was caving in?
I looked away from the screen, my eyes darting around the space. The walls of my office—my beautiful, hard-won office—suddenly felt too small. Like I was being shoved inside a box. Or one of those rooms that the walls moved in until they crushed a person.
I pushed back from the desk so fast my chair rolled into the bookshelf behind me and toppled one of the statues. I needed air. I needed to think. More than that, I needed Alexis. She was the voice of reason. The one I knew would snap me out of the panic I found myself spiraling toward.
I grabbed my purse and was out the door before I could talk myself out of it. This was why it was so convenient to have her a few doors away. A small town meant everyone was a few doors away. That fact could go in the plus or negative category. I wasn’t sure where I was putting it just yet. Alexis would know.
I pushed open the door with a little more force than necessary. Alexis looked up from her sewing machine with a startled expression.
“Okay, that’s a face,” she said. “What happened?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I quickly pulled up the email on my phone and wordlessly handed it to her.
Alexis scanned the email, her eyebrows climbing higher with each line. When she finished, she set the phone down carefully, as if it might explode. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“This is huge.”
“I know.”
She studied me, her head tilting. “So why do you look like you just got hit by a truck?”
I groaned, collapsing into one of her plush armchairs. The scent of lavender fabric softener wrapped around me as I dragged my hands through my hair. “I don’t know.”
Alexis leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Yeah, you do.”
The truth sat heavy on my tongue. This offer was everything my ambitious New York self had dreamed of. But that woman felt like a stranger now. I wasn’t the same Portia that lived in New York. I didn’t talk like that person or dress like her. That version of me felt like it was in my distant past—not a few months ago.
“I’m so confused,” I groaned. “This is the best-case scenario.”
I sank deeper into the chair, staring at the ceiling. Alexis waited patiently, her sewing machine silent now, her full attention on me. I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t let me off the hook until I spilled everything.
“It’s Dean,” I finally admitted.
“Dean? What about him?”
“I think it might be real with him.” The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, like they belonged to someone else. “I don’t know how that happened. He’s this grumpy, closed-off mess of a man who can barely string two sentences together when it comes to feelings, but…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish.
“But he’s Dean,” Alexis supplied with a small smile.
“Yeah,” I said, laughing softly despite myself. “He’s Dean. And for some reason, that seems to matter more than it should.”
Alexis leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms thoughtfully. “Okay, so what’s the problem? The job or Dean?”
“Both,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “The job is everything I thought I wanted. But now that it’s here, it feels wrong. Like I’d be leaving something—someone—behind.”
Alexis nodded slowly, her expression knowing. “You’re scared.”
“Terrified,” I admitted. “What if this thing with Dean isn’t real? What if I give up this incredible opportunity for something that falls apart?”
I couldn’t stop thinking about how he showed up for me. The way he’d built my bookshelves without being asked. The way he looked at me across the dinner table with my parents, like I was something precious.
Now there was this town—the bakery next door that knew my coffee order, the lake at sunset, the people who greeted me by name on the street.
And my brokerage. My dream, finally taking shape.
Alexis watched me, probably reading my thoughts. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with your parents lately, haven’t you?”
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the chaos in my head. “Yeah. It’s been nice. Really nice. I forgot how much I missed them. How much I missed this. You. The town. All of it.”
Being back in Larkspur Lake had given me something I didn’t even realize I’d lost. Time with my mom and dad, who were just down the road instead of a plane ride away. Time to sit at their kitchen table on a Saturday morning, sipping coffee and listening to my dad’s stories about his latest fishing trip—or lack thereof, since he seemed to spend more time untangling his line than actually catching anything. Time to help my mom in the garden and listening to her run through the gossip she picked up at her book club.
“It’s not just them.” I sighed. “It’s the little things too. All those little things make it feel like home. A real home. The city is—I don’t know. Different. I would walk past two hundred people in a day and never see a smile or have someone say hello. It’s lonely. Here, it’s totally annoying to have all my business put into the local paper, but it’s also funny. People care. That’s what I think about at the end of the day.”
Alexis smiled softly. “Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind, Portia. You’re just too scared to say it out loud.”
I shook my head, frustration bubbling up. “It’s not that simple. Dean isn’t exactly the kind of guy who makes promises. He doesn’t do plans or commitments. I can’t just assume he’d want me to stay. And even if he did, what if I’m basing this whole thing on some fantasy? What if I’m just romanticizing him because he’s Dean Jackson? The guy no woman has ever landed.”
Alexis raised an eyebrow. “You know how you find out what he’ll say or do?”
I bit my lip hard enough to hurt. “I have to tell him.”
Alexis didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. You do.”
“This is going to be hard,” I said.
“Yes, but you’re waiting for him to ask you to stay,” she said. “He can’t ask if you don’t give him the opportunity.”
I walked back to my car and drove back home. My mind raced with possibilities, with fears, with words I hadn’t said yet. We had only been together a couple weeks. And it was Dean. I knew it was a lot to expect him to voice his feelings. So far, we had never needed to talk feelings.
I spotted him in the front yard before he saw me—shirtless, pushing a lawnmower through the grass, sweat glistening on his tanned skin. Even now, with my stomach in knots, the sight of him sent a familiar warmth through my veins. The man could hire a lawn service, but he insisted on doing everything himself.
He looked up as I approached, killing the mower’s engine. His smile faded the moment he saw my face. “What’s wrong?”
The words stuck in my throat. “I got an offer.”
“An offer?”
“San Francisco,” I said. “They want me there in two weeks.”
I waited for him to react. To argue, or tell me I don’t need it, or ask what I want to do.
“Wow.” He rubbed his jaw, the stubble making a rough sound against his palm. “That’s big.”
Something twisted sharply in my stomach. “That’s all you have to say?”
He exhaled through his nose, looking past me for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.” My voice cracked. “Something?”
Dean nodded slowly, like he’d been expecting this. Like he’d already played this conversation in his head a hundred times. The resignation in his eyes made my chest ache. This was exactly what I was worried about. Last night he had withdrawn. He saw it coming after the phone call yesterday. I could see it in his eyes. He had already knew where this thing was headed.
Maybe I did, too.
That was why I didn’t want to tell him. I knew it was going to be the most difficult conversation I was ever going to have. I could feel my heart being ripped out. My soul was crying.