Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to believe my luck, but I’m currently sitting at a desk—a pretty impressive, polished walnut one—in my own office at The Fifth House website and lifestyle brand.
It doesn’t even feel like a job. I’m totally invested in working creatively for them and I get to help people through my articles rather than refereeing their arguments.
I got an assignment to write about alternative medicine, so I’m going to dish about my experience with acupuncture.
Honestly, it was amazing. The whole time, it felt like these heavy weights I’d been carrying around were just lifted right off me.
I could actually breathe easier, and all that stress I’d been holding onto just melted away.
I walked out feeling lighter, calmer, and kind of like a new person.
I pull up the interview documents on my screen, one from a woman who used acupuncture therapy for fertility and was finally able to have a full-term pregnancy, and another from a man who had insomnia for years who’s now able to sleep again.
My supervisor, Eva, knocks twice on the open door, her long red skirt swinging around her ankles. “How’s the piece coming?”
“It’s great. I’ll have it in a few days before my deadline.”
Eva grins at me and tucks her dark brown hair behind her ears. “Good stuff. Are you coming to the social tonight?”
The Fifth House office team goes out every Thursday for dinner and today is no exception.
I haven’t missed one dinner yet. They usually start off pretty tame, and we talk about business and the brand over some tapas, but they often end with some impromptu karaoke at a dive bar down the road.
Andy would be proud. The next day in the office, however, isn’t always a fun time.
Hangovers and writing don’t go together very well.
“I’ll be there,” I answer. This time, Maren’s coming along with us. We’ve practiced our song, a Spice Girls classic, dozens of times and even have our dance routine down pat. My coworkers are about to see a whole new side of me.
I continue typing my story, and it’s flowing so well, maybe thanks to the little fountain I ordered for my desk.
Every time I look at it, I think of Zach, and I wonder how close I am to achieving what I need to with my life to be ready to call him again.
I just hope he’ll agree to see me. Whenever I look at it, I feel touched by the fact that Zach noticed how much water inspires me.
I feel like no one has ever taken the time to notice something like that about me before and it’s comforting that he did.
Zach doesn’t even know that I work here since I haven’t told him yet, but I have this fantasy that plays in my head of me seeing him. It’s lunch break and I’m about to step out the front entrance, when I see Zach, walking along the street holding a coffee in his hand.
In the fantasy, I race to catch up with him and tap him on the back.
Every time I picture this, I’m always wearing one of my nicest linen blazers with a pencil skirt, and he eyes me from head to toe with a smile lighting up his whole face before asking where I’m coming from and whether or not I’m happy.
I tell him that I am, and we hold each other for a very long time before going somewhere to catch up over lunch, barely able to stop kissing each other long enough to get the words out.
I apologize again for being dishonest, he tells me that he forgives me, and I tell him that I’ve finally achieved all the things on my nonnegotiable list. I don’t have any more doubts about whether or not I’m ready.
I find myself glancing out of the window a lot, hoping to see him walking by, and every lunch break I take, I hope that I’ll run into him.
I’ve even gone to Pavaro, but Danny says he hasn’t been there since we went together.
I want the first time that Zach and I see each other again to come organically.
If my lunch hour fantasy doesn’t work out, however, I do have another plan.