Chapter 19
Maya
I've been staring at the same line of code for what feels like an eternity, my cursor blinking mockingly while my mind replays this morning's kitchen encounter on an endless loop. The way Lucas's hands felt on my skin, the sound he made when I whispered his name, the look in his eyes afterward.
Focus, Maya. The festival website's vendor registration system needs to be coded and finished by noon.
But every time I try to concentrate, I catch myself touching my lips, remembering the taste of him, or glancing toward the bar where he's restocking glasses with those capable hands that were mapping my body just hours ago.
When he looks up and catches me staring, the heat in his gaze makes my stomach flip and any hope of productivity evaporates.
This is ridiculous. I'm a grown woman, not some teenager with her first crush. Except Lucas was my first crush, and I'm finally living my teenage fantasy.
My phone buzzes against the table, jolting me from my Lucas-induced haze. Unknown number, which immediately makes my pulse spike with Evan-related panic, but when I check the message, it's from a recruiter named Jennifer Walsh from Cascade Tech Solutions.
Maya, I've been following your work from your Seattle portfolio. We have an exciting Senior Developer position that would be perfect for your skillset. Fully remote, competitive salary + equity, immediate start available. Are you interested in learning more?
I read the message three times, my coffee growing cold as the implications sink in.
A job offer. A real, substantial offer from a company I've actually heard of.
Not just heard of but admired from afar.
The same company whose email I'd been too afraid to open from before.
Cascade Tech is the kind of place Derek always said I wasn't qualified for, the kind of company that builds apps that actually change people's lives instead of optimizing ad revenue for whatever soulless corporation pays the most.
And it's fully remote, which means...
"You look like you've seen a ghost." Lucas appears beside my table with a fresh cup of coffee, his presence immediately grounding me back in the moment. "Everything okay?"
I should tell him. That's what couples do. They share important news, discuss major decisions together. But the words stick in my throat, tangled up with a complicated mess of excitement and terror that I can't quite untangle.
"Just work stuff," I say instead, closing my phone. "Boring tech things."
He studies my face with those too-perceptive blue eyes, and I know he doesn't buy my casual deflection. Lucas has always been able to read me better than I'd like.
"Maya—"
"I should get back to this," I interrupt, gesturing at my laptop screen. "Mrs. Patterson wants the vendor forms done before the next meeting. Might need to take a rain check on apple picking."
He nods, but the concerned look doesn't leave his face as he heads back to the bar. I watch him go, admiring the way his jeans hug his ass, then immediately feel guilty for ogling him while simultaneously hiding potentially life-changing news.
I pull up the recruiter's LinkedIn profile.
Jennifer Walsh, Senior Talent Acquisition at Cascade Tech Solutions.
Her background is impressive, the company's recent projects are exactly the kind of innovative work I've always dreamed of doing, and the position she's hinting at would probably pay more than I made in Seattle.
My fingers hover over the reply button while my brain runs through possibilities. Remote work means I could live anywhere, including here, in Willowbridge, with Lucas. I could have the career I've always wanted and the life I'm just beginning to build. Best of both worlds.
So why does my stomach feel like it's full of lead?
Because nothing's ever that simple, especially not for someone with my track record.
Because there's probably a catch. Travel requirements, or team meetings, or some other complication that would make staying here impossible.
Because even thinking about career opportunities feels like betraying the promise I made to Lucas about not running away.
But it's not running if it's a legitimate career move, right? It's not abandoning ship if I'm making smart professional choices that could benefit both of us in the long run?
I type a careful response:
Hi Jennifer, thank you for reaching out. I'd be interested in learning more about the position and requirements. Best, Maya
The moment I hit send, my phone rings. Jennifer Walsh, calling immediately.
"Maya! So glad you're interested. Do you have a few minutes to chat about this opportunity? I think you're going to be very excited about what we can offer."
Twenty minutes later, I'm practically vibrating with excitement and trepidation.
Jennifer's call exceeded every expectation I had.
The position is leading a team developing accessibility software for disabled users, the salary is nearly double what I made in Seattle, and the company culture sounds like everything I've ever wanted in a workplace.
The catch? They want to fly me to Portland for an in-person interview next week. Just a day trip, Jennifer assured me, but still. Travel. Leaving Willowbridge. Leaving Lucas, even temporarily.
I close my laptop and walk to the bar, where Lucas is training Jake on some new cocktail recipe. He looks up when I approach, and his smile dims slightly when he sees my expression.
"Can we talk?" I ask quietly. "Privately?"
He nods, handing the shaker to Jake. "Take five," he tells him, then guides me toward the back office.
The small space feels even smaller with both of us in it, and I can't quite meet his eyes as I search for the right words to explain what just happened.
"What's going on? You look like you're about to either throw up or run a marathon." His voice is gentle but concerned.
"I got a job offer." The words tumble out in a rush. "Well, not an offer exactly, but an opportunity. A really good opportunity. With a company I've always dreamed of working for."
His face goes carefully blank. "That's... that's great. Good for you."
"Lucas, it's remote work. Fully remote. Which means I could do it from anywhere. Including here." I'm talking too fast, trying to get the words out before I lose my nerve. "I could have the career I've always wanted and still stay in Willowbridge. Still be with you."
"But?" He leans against his desk, arms crossed, and I realize he's already heard the complication in my voice.
"But they want me to fly to Portland for an interview next week. Just for a day, but..." I trail off, seeing the way his jaw tightens.
"But you'd be leaving."
"For one day. Twenty-four hours, maybe less."
He's quiet for a moment, processing. "Maya, I want you to have everything you've ever dreamed of. You know that, right?"
"Of course, but—" "I'm just..." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm scared that once you're back in that world, even for a day, you'll remember what you're missing. That small-town life won't be enough for you."
The vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. This isn't about control. It's about his fear of losing me.
"That's not going to happen," I say softly.
"How can you be sure? A week ago you were ready to run because Jess planted some doubts. Now there's a real opportunity pulling you back to your old life." His voice is careful, controlled. "I just need to know this isn't the beginning of you changing your mind about us."
"It's not," I say quickly, but even as the words leave my mouth, I can hear the uncertainty underneath. "Lucas, it's just an interview. And I could do the work from here."
"Could you, though?" He leans forward, and there's something almost gentle in his expression now. "Maya, what if there are meetings? Travel requirements? What if working from home turns out to mean something different than what they're promising?"
His words hit too close to fears I've been trying not to acknowledge. Because he's not wrong. Remote work often comes with expectations, travel requirements, the gradual erosion of work-life boundaries that made my Seattle job so miserable.
"I don't know," I admit quietly. "I don't know what the travel requirements are, or how much flexibility they'd really give me. I just know it's an incredible opportunity, and I'd be stupid not to explore it."
"And I'd be stupid to try to stop you." The resignation in his voice is worse than anger would be. "If this is what you want, if this is what will make you happy, then you should take it."
"What I want is both." I step closer, needing him to understand. "I want the career and I want you. I want to prove to myself that I can be successful without sacrificing everything else that matters."
"And if you can't have both?"
The question hangs heavy with implications neither of us wants to face. Because we both know what my track record suggests about choosing between career advancement and personal happiness.
"I don't know," I whisper. "I'm hoping I don't have to find out.
***
"That evening, I'm spread across Harper's dining room table with my laptop, three legal pads, and enough coffee to fuel a small aircraft.
Pro/con lists cover every available surface.
One for taking the job, one for staying in Willowbridge, one for trying to do both, and one labeled "Reasons Maya Is Overthinking Everything" that Harper helpfully started for me.
"You're making this too complicated," June says from the couch, where she's supposedly helping but is actually just eating the cookies she brought. "Do you want the job?"
"Yes."
"Do you want Lucas?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to live in Willowbridge?"
"Yes."
"Then take the remote job and stay here. Problem solved." June dusts cookie crumbs off her hands like she's just brokered world peace.
"It's not that simple," Harper interjects, looking up from her own laptop where she's been researching Cascade Tech. "Maya, look at this. Their senior developers average fifteen travel days per month. Conferences, client meetings, team building retreats. That's not exactly 'fully remote.'"
My stomach drops as I read over her shoulder. Fifteen days. Half the month away from Lucas, away from the life I'm trying to build.
"But look at the compensation package," I argue, pointing to another browser tab. "Stock options, full benefits, education reimbursement. This could set me up financially for years."
"Money isn't everything," June says gently.
"Easy to say when you've never been unemployed and essentially homeless." The words come out sharper than necessary, and I immediately feel guilty when June's face falls. "Sorry. I didn't mean—"
"You're scared," Harper observes, closing her laptop and giving me her full attention. "Maya, you're making the same face you made senior year when you got into MIT but were terrified to leave home."
"I'm not scared. I'm being practical."
"You're being self-destructive," Harper counters. "You always do this when things start to go well. Find reasons why it can't work, why you don't deserve happiness."
"That's not—" I start to protest, but my phone buzzes with an email from Jennifer. Flight details for next Tuesday's interview, with a note that they're "very excited to meet me in person."
My hands shake slightly as I forward the confirmation to my travel app. A plane ticket to Portland. Concrete evidence that I'm seriously considering leaving, even temporarily.
"Maya?" Harper's voice seems to come from far away. "You booked the flight?"
"They did." I stare at the confirmation email, wondering when exactly I went from exploring options to actively pursuing an exit strategy. "It's just an interview. It doesn't mean anything."
But even as I say the words, I know they're not true. This ticket represents a choice, a step toward a future that might not include the life I'm attempting to create. And the fact that I haven't already picked up the phone to tell Lucas about it makes it feel like a betrayal.
Harper and June exchange a look that clearly says they think I'm making a mistake, but before either can say anything, we hear Lucas's truck pull into the driveway.
"Shit," I mutter, quickly closing my laptop. "He's not supposed to pick me up for another hour."
The front door opens, and I hear his voice calling out. "Maya? I managed to get away earlier."
I fumble for my purse, which is sitting right beside me on the table, and in my panic I knock over my coffee cup. Brown liquid spreads across the table, soaking into my carefully organized lists.
"Damn it!" I grab napkins, trying to save my notes, but the damage is done. Coffee drips onto the floor, and when I lunge for my phone to move it out of the spill zone, I accidentally hit the power button and the screen lights up.
Right there, bright and obvious, is my email inbox with Jennifer's message about the flight confirmation still open.
Lucas's eyes catch the screen before I can close it. "Cascade Tech Solutions - Travel Confirmation," he reads aloud, his voice going quiet.
I fumble to turn off the phone, but it's too late. He's seen it.
When he looks up at me, there's hurt in his eyes rather than anger. "You booked the flight."
It's not a question, and the wounded tone in his voice makes my chest ache. He looks like I just sucker-punched him.
"They booked it," I say quietly. "I just... accepted."