Page 135 of The Charm of You

I want to say yes.

I want to share in her little celebration, but as soon as I attempt to speak, dance, sing—anything—my throat closes like I’m having an allergic reaction to this building.

Countless nights, early mornings, and holidays were spent in the office, or running around the city for work. My blood, sweat, and tears reside in these walls, and I didn’t realize the toll this job had taken on me until I didn’t have it anymore.

I should be ecstatic to be back.

Aren’t I supposed to miss things I love when they’re gone?

“I need to talk to Melissa.” Gulping, I step off the elevator, give Beverly’s arm a squeeze for good luck, and make a beeline for the boss’s office.

As I reach her door, her assistant stops me. “She’s finishing up a call and will be with you shortly.”

“Thanks, Divya.” I pace in front of her desk and occasionally peer inside Melissa’s glass window. “When did she paint her office?” I ask.

Divya tears her attention away from her computer, with the screen still reflected in her glasses. “A few days ago. She decided to go lighter.”

“It’s cute,” I say absentmindedly.

Yet another thing that’s changed around here.

My heart rate hitches into a faster pace like it’s a rock rolling off the top of a hill, starting slower at first, then picking up speed before coming to a full stop again.

That’s what happened to me. I took off from my hometown, gained momentum and felt like I was on top of the world, then plateaued. There’s nowhere to go from here.

I was gone for over a week, and no one missed me. Beverly did, but it’s not like she ceased functioning without me. She continued ordering venti lattes on the advice of vegan-Starla, and given the number of pictures she sent me from happy hour at our favorite bar, she held up that tradition as well.

I had to walk past several desks and cubicles to reach Melissa’s corner office, and not a single person greeted me or expressed how glad they are to see me. Divya and I have shared plenty a martini over the years, and she can’t be bothered to catch up with me, either.

“It’s a shame that New York doesn’t know what it has.”

I hear Austin’s words loud and clear, ringing in my head like a bell.

My lips part as sweat beads along my back, and the sudden clamminess isn’t because I’m still wearing my coat.

I might’ve hated returning to Sapphire Creek, where people gushed and complimented me, even though I knew I was a fraud.

The truth is, I was never a fraud. I’ve just never believed in myself like I should have, and it’s taken the grumpiest flannel-wearing man of the South to show me how much I have to offer.

More than that, I get to choose the life I want to live.

Through the window, Melissa presses something on her phone, and she stands. I don’t wait for Divya’s instructions before I throw the office door open and halt on the other side of my former boss’s desk.

She jolts backward like I’ve scared her.

“Sorry to barge in,” I say.

Melissa smooths her blouse down, her hair practically glued into place—there’s one thing that hasn’t changed in the last week. Her short, bleach-blonde hair has been the exact same during all the years I’ve known her.

“Not at all.” With one arm gesturing toward the cushioned chairs facing her desk, she says, “Sit.”

I sink onto one chair but remain on the edge. There’s no need to get comfortable, since I won’t be here long.

“I was concerned when you didn’t immediately return my call,” she says. “I figured you’d be more grateful for the opportunity to come back. After all, it is an honor to work here. I have a slush pile of resumes to fill to your position. These applicants would return my phone calls within the first five minutes of receiving them, in fact.”

What comes out of my mouth is a mix between an incredulous laugh and a scoff. She’s just made what I’m about to say that much easier.

“I’m only here to tell you in person that I decline,” I say, my tone even and confident.

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