Page 181 of The Fine Line

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“And…” he continues, “we’d love to offer you the commentator position.”

“Dave, I really appreciate?—”

I freeze, kettle still in my hand.

“Wait—I got it?”

“You got it,” he chuckles. “We’re all thrilled to have you in New York next season.”

My mouth falls open.

Oh my God.

I set the kettle down, my hand suddenly shaky.

“I can’t thank you enough?—”

I break off, distracted by Rhett stirring again.

“Sorry, Dave.” I duck into the hallway off the kitchen, lying, “My service is a little spotty right now.”

“No problem,” he says. “I’ll forward the offer letter to your email. I know it’s a big move, and there’s a lot you’d be leaving behind in Texas, but I think you’ll fit in great up here. Think on it over the weekend and let me know.”

I swallow.

“Thank you, Dave. I’ll be in touch soon.”

I end the call, and just…stand there.

This is it. Exactly what I wanted. What I’ve worked for. It should be a no-brainer.

But suddenly, it feels like one of those dreams where you’re weightless and falling at the same time.

There’s a lot you’d be leaving behind.

I shuffle back into the kitchen and set my phone down on the counter beside my purse. My mind won’t stop spinning. I fill the kettle, trying to focus, but my thoughts keep slipping.

Then my phone dings.

The offer letter.

I move around the island to grab it, but pause when I hear another ding—different tone, different phone.

I glance down. Rhett’s jacket is slouched right beside my purse.

The sound came from there.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I open the fold. His phone slides free between the layers.

I shouldn’t look.

But then the choice is made for me when it dings again.

The screen lights up.

And two messages flash before my eyes in bold:

Lauren: After what we shared the other night, I can’t stop thinking about you. Didn’t think you had that in you.

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