Page 21 of Outspoken Hearts
Eva.
She's become essential to me. Her honesty. Her passion. The way she sees the real me. Leaving what we're building feels like tearing out part of myself.
By the time I reach her apartment, I've decided. I'll tell her about the offer tonight. We'll discuss it openly, like the partners we're becoming.
She opens the door with a smile that momentarily washes away all my anxiety. She's wearing a simple dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, and she's never looked more beautiful.
"Hey, you." She rises on tiptoe to kiss me lightly. "Right on time, as always."
I hold up a bakery box. "Tiramisu from Antonio's. You mentioned it was your favorite."
"You remembered." She takes the box, looking pleased. "Come in. Dinner's almost ready."
Her apartment is exactly what I'd expect—colorful, eclectic, filled with art and books. It's smaller than my house but feels infinitely more alive. More authentic. Just like Eva herself.
"Can I pour you some wine?" she asks, leading me to the small kitchen where a pot of sauce simmers on the stove. "Nothing fancy, just a decent Cabernet."
"Sounds perfect." I watch as she moves efficiently around the kitchen, stirring the sauce, checking the pasta. "Can I help with anything?"
"You can grab plates from that cabinet. And tell me about your day. How did the meeting with the tourism board go?"
This is my opening. The perfect segue to mention the Westcott offer. But looking at her—so happy, so engaged in creating this evening for us—I can't bring myself to do it. Not yet. Not before we've had a chance to enjoy at least part of the night.
"It went well," I say instead. "They're enthusiastic about incorporating the new branding into their materials."
"That's great!" She beams at me, dipping a spoon into the sauce for a taste test. "Oh, I finished those website mock-ups I mentioned. The town council is going to flip when they see how the new logo translates to digital. Wanna see after dinner?"
"Absolutely."
We settle at her small dining table, wine poured, pasta served. The domesticity of it all, this simple meal in her space, feels more intimate than our restaurant date. More real.
"So," she says, twirling spaghetti around her fork, "there's something I've been wanting to ask you."
My heart skips. "What's that?"
"After the branding project wraps up... what's next for us?" Her cheeks flush slightly, but her gaze is direct. "I mean, professionally we'll go back to our separate worlds. But personally..."
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility. And complication.
"I've been thinking about that too," I admit, setting down my fork. This is it. The moment to be honest. "Actually, something came up today that might affect those plans."
Her expression shifts, curiosity mixed with the faintest hint of apprehension. "Oh?"
"I received a job offer. From Westcott Media Group."
"The big communications firm? James, that's amazing!" Her reaction is genuine, her smile wide. "What kind of position?"
"National Director of Public Engagement. Based in Boston."
The smile falters slightly as understanding dawns. "Boston. That's... what, three hours from here?"
"About that, yes."
She sets down her wine glass carefully. "When would you start?"
"They want an answer within two weeks. If I accept, I'd begin after the new year." I reach across the table, taking her hand. "But Eva, I haven't made any decisions yet. I wanted to talk to you first."
"Why?" The directness of her question catches me off guard. "I mean, we've only been seeing each other for a few weeks. This is a major career opportunity."
