Page 18 of Lucky in Love
Chloe hung her head for a second but finally answered. “You travel so much, and you know I hate being alone.”
Brody’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Excuses and blamingmeright out of the gate? Bold move, Clo. But I don’t think so. You knew exactly what you were signing up for when you met me. What’s going on?”
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that everything’s going to change, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“What’s changing? What are you talking about?”
Chloe and Nathaniel shared a look. A look that resurrected the butterflies Brody had thought dead forever. Her comments from the other day popped into his mind.
“Is this about my job?” he asked.
Another long stare before Nathaniel shrugged. “Might as well rip off the Band-Aid. We have to let you go, Brody. New Hampshire is your last assignment for Wanderlust.”
Shocked into silence, it took Brody a moment to process everything.
“I tried to warn you,” Chloe said softly, as if that would make the pill go down easier.
“I’m real sorry, Brody,” Nathaniel said, not clarifying whether he meant for firing him or for sleeping with his girlfriend. Or both. Either way, it was insufficient and insincere.
Brody held up a hand. “Just so I’m clear. I came here to propose, and rather than leave with a fiancée, I’m being firedanddumped, which by default also makes me homeless. So, losing everything? Cool. Cool, cool.”
He backed out of the room, head still spinning.
“Wait,” Chloe said. “We should talk about it.”
“Hmm. Hard pass.” Brody strode down the hall and out the door, pausing only a second to grab his bag. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs and stormed through the lobby.
He didn’t take a full breath until he was back on the curb. And just his luck, trash pickup was the next day. When he inhaled, the putrid smell of garbage was so strong he could taste it.
He started down the street. To where, he didn’t yet know. Just knew staying anywhere near here was not an option.
Several blocks later, raindrops added to his cacophony of misfortunes. He ducked into a small diner and slid into an empty booth. When a waitress asked what he wanted, he huffed out a laugh.
“Any chance ‘rewinding my life a day, to when I was blissfully ignorant of my impending fate’ is on the menu?”
The waitress shrugged. “We got ice cream.”
“Just coffee. Please,” he said.
Over a hot cup of weak java, he mulled over his situation. Short term, he still had lodging in Green Valley Falls for a few days. He’d fly back tomorrow as planned, finish his story, and go from there. If he didn’t figure out his next move by the time he had to check out, maybe he’d ask to extend his stay.
Longer term, he’d need to find a new job and a new home, and eventually, move on from his latest disaster of a relationship. He’d also have to tell his mom, who depended on him for financial support.
News of his firing would devastate her, but he wasn’t sure how she’d take the being dumped thing. She’d never really warmed to Chloe.
He decided to postpone telling his mom. No sense in worrying her yet. First, he’d cook up a plan. Then, when he told her, he could frame it as a “career change.” That sounded better than, “I got fired and am scrambling to find another job.”
Chloe had mentioned writing a book. That might not be a bad idea. He could try freelance work. Or even do his own online thing. Maybe a weekly vlog or podcast. Wasn’t that all the rage nowadays? His name familiarity had to be worth something to somebody.
Wanderlust must really be on the rocks to have to let him go. Then again, Brody did have the largest salary of all the journalists. They could easily line up a hundred people willing to do his job for half the price.
Details would come out later, but in the meantime, his “brand” apparently wasn’t as hot as he thought. The real question was, was it hot enough for Brody to make it on his own?
After finishing his coffee, he left a twenty-dollar bill under the cup and started toward the door, only to jog back and quickly exchange it for a ten.
Until he found another income source, the days of extreme tipping were over. Sure, he had a pile of savings, but for now, frugality would be prudent.
It had stopped raining, and he roamed aimlessly, looking for a hotel. Which was easy to find in downtown Manhattan. He paid the walk-in rate for the smallest room and proceeded to a tiny, off-white rectangle on the second floor. His window overlooked the back alley. Huh. Perhaps hehadbecome a scooch spoiled.
