Chapter Thirty-Three Jo
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jo
I t takes a few weeks for the dust to settle.
Now dappled sunlight filters through the trees, bathing the sidewalk in a kaleidoscope of light and shadows. The temperature is perfect—a warm, breezy seventy-something degrees—and the entire city is alive for it. The day could not be more beautiful, with a cloudless blue sky, the kind of afternoon designed to abandon all obligations and park yourself somewhere on a patio or sloping green lawn.
It’s also the perfect day to quit my job.
Even though nothing has changed yet, the front of Haven HQ looks different. The gigantic decal of Mike and me is still there. The windows are still full of branded retail. The glass doors still read H AVEN in the signature block lettering of the company’s custom font.
Yet my rose-colored glasses are gone. I’ve got the keys to my golden handcuffs.
I’m ready to jump off the edge of this cliff.
Part of me can’t help but feel a little guilty as I pass the front desk and juice bar, waving at the staff as I go. When I’d requested time with Z through her assistant, I’d said it was just a general catch-up. But in all our time together, I’ve never asked to book myself on her calendar in advance; our relationship predates the formal structure of the corporate empire we grew together, so I’ve always been able to just drop by and chat. This time, however, I want guaranteed, uninterrupted privacy. I’m about to drop a proverbial bomb on her, and I have no intention of being sidetracked.
As the elevator ascends to the fifth floor, I’m surprised by how not nervous I am. There are no whispers of anxiety, no racing heart or sweaty palms or intrusive thoughts. I only feel a sense of peace and clarity, secure in the knowledge that this is the right choice for me.
I find the door to Z’s office open, her eyes narrowed as she types on her laptop behind her big glass desk. She looks up and smiles as I knock. As discreetly as I can, I close the door behind me as I cross the threshold.
“When I saw your name on my calendar, I was so confused,” she says by way of greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a meeting with Haven’s famous cover model?”
I roll my eyes as I plop into one of her black leather chairs. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
“Maybe when Mike lands a bigger cover.”
“You know it’s just a matter of time before he ends up in Men’s Health or GQ or whatever.”
I get a good look at my boss as she closes her laptop and leans back in her chair. She looks much less worn down now that we’re on the other side. Her signature pixie cut is back in top form, her nails done a funky electric blue shade, her outfit back to Haven’s usual corporate athleisure. The dark undereye circles have disappeared, and that bright light is back in her eyes.
“Probably,” she replies. “Seriously, though, what brings you in today? Today is Friday, right? Aren’t you supposed to be off?”
As I shift in my seat, I notice the subtle changes in her expression. It’s mostly in her eyes, the way they sharpen at my slight fidget, but her nostrils flare too. She knows something’s up.
I take a deep breath and steel my spine. “There’s not really an easy way to do this, so I’m just going to say it: I’m leaving Haven.”
Her office is so quiet you could truly hear a pin drop.
Holding her stunned gaze, I give her time to process. I planned all of this out with both Sonya and Silas separately, going over and over the possible scenarios until I felt confident enough to handle it if I lost control of the conversation. I will not ramble. I will not fold. I will handle this with grace.
No need for box breathing today. I’ve got this.
After what feels like a lifetime, she finally asks, “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” I reply, inwardly delighted by how confident I sound. “This has been a long time coming for me, Z. I’ve had an incredible run here, but I’m ready to move on.”
“Is this because of the acquisition? Because nothing has to change for you. I can keep—”
“It’s not,” I interrupt. “I promise you, it’s not because of Limelight. This job has been the wildest, most wonderful and difficult experience I could have ever asked for. Working with you and Mike and everyone else changed my life , Z. At the same time, all good things come to an end, you know? I’ve been unhappy for a while. I was just too scared to do anything about it. But I’m finally ready now. I’m ready for the next chapter of my life.”
The shocked look on her face slowly dissipates as I talk. She nods slowly, absorbing everything I’m saying, until I’m done. “I had no idea,” she says. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice, Jo. I got so wrapped up in the sale of the company that I…” She stops to clear her throat. “You know how much you mean to me. You and Mike… you’re my family.”
At the word family , her voice breaks, and then the waterworks begin.
I don’t know if it’s Z or me who cries first, but it doesn’t really matter, because it takes us about two seconds to round her desk and hug each other hard. Hot tears stream down my face as I hold her tiny trembling body against mine. It’s not an embrace meant for colleagues—no, what Z and I are to each other is something different, something special, something formed by a decade of shared blood, sweat, and tears.
When I get my breathing under control, I will my voice to remain as steady as possible. “Thank you for everything, Z. For finding me all those years ago and believing in me. For supporting me through everything. I am so lucky to know you.”
“Are you kidding me?” She pulls back to hold me at arm’s length while she wipes the mascara trailing down her cheeks. “ I’m lucky to know you. You’re one of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met. Think of how many lives you’ve touched, Jo. Not many people can say they’ve reached hundreds of thousands of people in their lifetime.”
Great. Now I’m crying again.
Once we’ve gotten it all out of our systems, we pass a box of tissues back and forth while we fix our faces. I’m undoubtedly blotchy and puffy, but I don’t care. This feeling of freedom is worth every sacrifice, every tear, every single thing I’ve done to get to this point.
“What’s your timeline?” Z asks as we sit next to each other in her black leather chairs—on the other side of her desk.
“I don’t really have one,” I reply. “I didn’t think this would be as simple as a two-week notice, but I want to get the ball rolling at least.”
“Can you give me a couple of months? I don’t think my Limelight bosses are going to be thrilled about this.”
I frown at the ripple effect my actions will have; I never meant for Z to take heat for this. “Yeah. If they have any problems with it, they can talk to me. I’ll explain that it was my choice and has nothing to do with their ownership.”
She waves me off. “You think I’m scared of some corporate suits or something? Come on, you know me better than that.”
I look at her fondly. “I know.”
“What are you going to do next?” she asks.
Though I’ve been taking meetings and calls with a few of the various companies that reached out after Silas’s article, nothing concrete has materialized yet. But as Silas so aptly pointed out a few months ago, I’m not just good at riding a bike that goes nowhere—I’m also good at leading people, at forging connections with strangers. The right opportunity, with the right people, will present itself in due time. With a shrug, I say, “I don’t know yet.”
Z grips my hand and gives me a little squeeze. The metal of her rings digs into the skin of my hand, a cold yet comforting reminder of the present as I remain poised on the cusp of my future. There’s no need to say what we’re both thinking—that whatever happens next, I’ll be okay.
When I emerge from Haven HQ, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I try to commit everything around me to memory: the sweet fragrance of the zinnia planters that just manages to cut through the smell of car exhaust, the cacophony of car horns and bicycle bells ricocheting all over NoHo, the way it feels just to stand here on this corner. The second home I needed for so many years of my life.
When I open my eyes, Silas is there, a bouquet of multicolored hyacinths in one hand, a brown leather flask in the other.
“I wasn’t sure how it’d go today, so I came prepared,” he says, his nervous blue eyes assessing me. “Flowers to celebrate, whiskey in case it went badly.”
Laughter tumbles out as I launch myself at him. “What are you doing here?” I ask as I wrap my arms around his neck. Even with his hands full, Silas still manages to give me a heart-melting hug. “I thought you had to work today!”
“I skipped out early.” We untangle from each other enough for him to kiss my temple, my cheek, my jaw, until his lips finally land on mine. “I knew today was a big deal and I wanted to be here for you.”
I murmur my gratitude as I pull his mouth to mine again.
“Plus,” he adds, the words featherlight against my lips, “I have a lot of making up to do.” He peppers my lips with a kiss between each word.
Pulling away, I level him with my most serious expression. “I already forgave you, Silas.”
“And I am eternally grateful, but are you really going to stop me from trying to give you flowers again ?”
“No.” The word comes out as smug as I intended.
He gives me a stoic nod. “Then what’s the verdict: Are we celebrating, or do we need to drown our sorrows with the best mid-tier whiskey the liquor store on Lafayette Street has to offer?”
“Celebrating!” I take the flowers from his outstretched hands and inhale the lovely, fresh scent. “There were some tears, but they were good tears.”
“Excellent, because I have plans to treat you to one of Manhattan’s greatest dining experiences, and I want to hear every detail.”
I run my fingers up his arm as Silas deposits the flask full of whiskey into the backpack at his feet. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I’d like to consider this our first real date, if that’s okay with you.”
Even though we’ve shared several meals over the last couple of weeks, I love the idea of noting this day with something special. Something celebratory to mark a fresh start. My free hand winds through his beautiful mop of wild curls once he’s upright again. “I’d like that very much.”
He kisses me once, twice, then a third time before saying, “Great. Because I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it.”
And that is the story of how Silas and I shared our first meal at the Times Square Olive Garden.