Chapter 58

How is Kate doing? I’m looking forward to our movie night later. Should I bring something? Chocolate? Ice cream?

Message from Rose to Grace

Kate

“What do you think about this one?” Grace asked, sliding her laptop towards me so I could see the job posting she’d found. We were sitting on her bed, Grace searching for jobs for me on her laptop while I scoured the internet on Amy’s iPad.

I skimmed the posting, then shook my head. “They’ll never hire me. They want at least five years of relevant experience,” I replied, pointing at the requirements.

“Shit,” Grace muttered. “I didn’t see that.”

I smiled, trying not to show how much the job hunt was wearing me down.

I wanted to work, but it was sobering how slim my chances were.

In a desperate attempt to get my mum off drugs, I’d put my entire life on hold.

I’d dropped out of school early to take care of her, and now I was faced with the fallout of that decision.

Perhaps that was part of why I’d been so afraid of being with Henry, faced with addiction.

I couldn’t sacrifice everything for another person again, only to be left with nothing.

“And continuing to work for The Darlington really isn’t an option?” Amy asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor as she rifled through the flashcards I would be testing her on later. “You liked that job, and you would get to keep working with Grace.”

I shook my head, although I knew Henry would let me stay on at The Darlington.

He had told me my position at the hotel wasn’t dependent on our relationship, but I couldn’t go back to work there.

It would mean returning to Henry. His letter alone was enough to make me weak, because my heart wanted to be weak.

It wanted to forgive him—until my mind reminded it that neither declarations of love nor promises were enough.

It was easy to write that he had stopped taking Vitalyn, but staying clean was hard.

And how was I supposed to believe him after he’d hidden his addiction for so long?

“If I were you, I wouldn’t want to work there anymore either,” Grace said, patting my shoulder sympathetically.

We spent a while longer searching for jobs—a sobering experience.

What was meant to be a distraction from my heartbreak only reminded me that I had given up a perfect life others would have clung to for dear life.

But I’d had to learn at far too young an age that life would never be perfect if you lived in constant fear for the person you loved.

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