Page 162 of Taste of Addiction

“The one you wrote for closure?”

“Yes. I cannot believe it. I just got asked to join the intern team at Pacific Press. This is all happening so fast. I wasn’t expecting anything to change.”

“Wow, baby, that’s such a wonderful accomplishment.”

I stare down at the words of acceptance. Days ago, it was a letter of being denied. But my article I wrote—for my own personal therapy—was valued by the right people apparently. “They like my raw honesty.”

Graham leans in and kisses my forehead. “Because you wrote that article for yourself first.”

I nod. “I stopped letting the expectations keep me from spreading my wings.”

“Exactly.”

I frown, folding the letter back into its trifold form and slipping it back into the envelope it arrived in.

“Is this what you want? What youreallywant, Angie?”

A sadness washes over me. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Sometimes it’s okay not to have all the answers.”

“Huh?”

“I know it sounds weird coming from my mouth, but you aren’t the only one who is growing in this relationship. We are figuring it out together.”

I smile, tears filling my eyes. “For over four years I have worked toward something I thought I wanted. I should be happy, right? Elated.” I turn the envelope over and over in my hand.

“Why are you not then?”

“I cannot keep holding on to this fantasy, just because I think I can change the ending of the story.”

“What’s the fantasy?”

“This idea I had in my head that somehow I could find purpose in my life after James by focusing my attention on a dream I never really wanted. I let circumstances change my vision, instead of searching my soul for my own passions. I was at a fragile age, a time in my life that I was legally an adult but very much just a child trying to cope with a life without my brother and my mother.”

“What are you saying, sweetheart? What do you plan to do?”

“I plan to take a couple of months to focus on myself. To dig deep within my heart and do some soul searching. To get through my therapy sessions and really think about what I want to do with my life. I know I did everything backward. I’m basically starting over again. I have two degrees and a formal education to at least show some credibility,” I say with a shrug. “But maybe now is the time for me to really find out what my passions are and not let pain dictate the path to my future.”

“With every new chapter comes the hope of possibility. I want to support you with whatever dreams you have. You have a lot of talents. Nothing is wasted, sweetheart. Never feel bad about growing—no matter which road you take.”

“I could not do any of this without you.”

“I’m your biggest cheerleader.”

“Since we are in the whole open-all-the-envelopes mood, can we open up my cancer risk test results together? I have been holding on to them since I had my physical with Entice.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Go grab them.”

I jog into my craft room and find the sealed envelope buried in the back of my material bin. I am tired of hiding from the results. Moving back into the living room, I curl up in Graham’s lap as we both tear open the flap.

“Wait,” he says, stopping me from unfolding the results.

“Hmm?”

“Whatever you reveal, promise me we will handle it together.”

My eyes move to his. “I promise.” Then, I open up the letter and scan over the document. “I’m,” I say, tears flowing down my cheeks, “negative.”

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