Page 2 of The Promise Of You

“Um, hello? You are a rock star. I mean, how many people can actually say that?”

“I’m not a rock star. Just a rock musician. I think a lot of people call themselves that, these days.”

“You write your own music, do your own thing.”

“And am currently starving doing so.”

I lower my voice and glance nervously around me. “Well, I’m up for a promotion,” I whisper into the phone. A much-deserved, well-paid promotion that will be handed to me in exactly… twenty-two minutes. “I’m feeling generous. That okay?”

Through the video I can see her blushing. “Did you mention a wedding earlier? Did I miss something? Did he propose?”

I was wondering what took her so long. “Um… no. But I think this promotion”—I lower my voice again—“is going to speed things along.” I step away from the building’s entrance and cross the street for more privacy.

Fiona narrows her eyebrows. “That’s whacked, Clo. Although I will say, when a man marries a woman for her money, that could mean progress for the rest of us? Maybe?”

I chuckle, seeing where she’s coming from. “To be honest, Tucker and me, we’re going through a rough patch.” I sigh. “Basically, he’s saying I’m not spending enough time at home. I work too many weekends and evenings.”

She tilts her head. “And this promotion is going to help how?”

“It’s a move to a cushier department. More pay, less stress, less hours.”

“Really.” Doubt seeps from her tone.

It does sound counterintuitive, but there it is. It’s a bigger job, one where I would have a large team working for me. After the initial few weeks or months settling in, I’ll have more free time. I think.

“What’s this job about?”

“It’s…” I hesitate on how to best describe it to her in few words. Tucker hasn’t asked me about it, and it’s the first time I’ve had to explain it to a lay person. “It’s financial analysis on the feasibility of opening new breweries.” My new team will do the grunt work that requires travelling, as well as weekend and evening calls and meetings. If I play this right, I’ll be able to wind down, put my mark on this department, and fix things with Tucker, all while having a job I think I’ll love. A job that will feel more like I’m running my own thing. “Trust me, Fi, I got this.”

“I trust you. You’re a kick-ass boss woman, even if Tucker doesn’t appreciate it.”

Not this again. “Fi…”

“You know how I feel about him.”

“I do.” Fiona has made that clear. She’s not a fan of my boyfriend. Moving on.

“And you wanting to marry him gives me anxiety, and the fact that Mom and Dad would be beyond themselves happy is further proof that something’s seriously whacked when it comes to him.”

I roll my eyes. “I gotta go, Fi. Wish me luck,” I say and touch the four-leafed clover at my neck.

“Good luck in the elevator.” She chuckles. “Here’s to hoping it doesn’t break down on you.”

“Not funny,” I answer, forcing a smile, my stomach clenching. I’m extremely uncomfortable in small, enclosed spaces, and my worst fear is to be stuck in an elevator. Not that it’s ever happened to me, but Fiona teases me about that every chance she gets.

“Proud of ya, putting yourself through that shit twice a day for a career,” she says before shutting down the connection.

Make that six times a day, what with lunch break or outside appointments, and the ride up and down to the apartment.

I quickly access my banking app to send her money for a flight, put my phone on silent, cross the street, and enter the building feeling awesome about myself.

Thirty minutes later

Assholes.

I can’t believe they’re doing this to me. The voice sounds tinny, remote. “New management is shifting our focus, Chloe. The whole department is let go. It’s not just you. God, if it were me, we’d keep you.”

Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap.

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