Page 187 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
“Ohgod.” I sputter.
It’s not just more money. It’s life-changing money. The kind that comes with a corner office in downtown Los Angeles, a team of junior associates, and my law school tuition fully covered if I want it.Whoa.
I set the letter on the kitchen counter and stare at it while my coffee grows cold. What strings has Mom pulled to get this law firm to offer me so much money? I didn’t apply, so she clearly told someone to make me an offer. She must’ve gone deep to get me such an incredible job.
But the law school bit sticks in my craw. It’s never enough. I’m never going to satisfy my mom.
Hunter finds me there an hour later, still in my pajamas, the unopened contract sitting on the counter between us.
“What’s that?” he asks, kissing the top of my head as he reaches for his own mug.
“A second job offer. A big one.”
He goes still. “How big?”
I slide the letter toward him, watch his eyebrows climb as he reads. When he reaches the salary figure, he lets out a low whistle.
“Juliet, this is incredible.” He hesitates. “You’d have to be crazy not to take this. When do you start?”
The assumption in his voice, the immediate certainty that I’d take it, makes my chest tight. “I don’t know. I still haven’t decided yet.”
“What’s to decide? This is everything you’ve worked for.”
“Is it?” I pull a face. “It’s just what my mom wanted. Although this law firm intends to bring me on to head their PR team.”
“What’s wrong with that?” He sets down his coffee and turns to face me fully. “Talk to me.”
I think about how to explain it. How to put into words the shift that’s happened inside me over the past few months.
“Three months ago, I would have taken this without hesitation,” I explain slowly. “It represents everything I thought I wanted. Status, money, recognition in my field.”
“But?”
“But now I think about what that life would actually look like. Twelve-hour days managing crises for athletes I don’t care about. Living in a city where I don’t know anyone. Starting over somewhere that doesn’t feel like home.”
Hunter is quiet for a long moment. “You’d be giving up a lot to stay here.”
“Would I? I’d have to leave you.”
He sucks his teeth, silent on that point. Maybe he doesn’t want to influence me.
I stand up and move to the window, looking out at the city that’s become ours. The coffee shop where Hunter brings me lattes on busy mornings. I’ve tried jogging unsuccessfully at the park a few times. The arena where I’ve built something that matters.
“I used to think success meant climbing as high as possible. Getting the biggest title, the most money, the most impressive business card. That’s what my parents taught me matters. But what if that’s not my definition of success? What if success means being somewhere you’re valued for who you are?”
He looks at me with a hesitant expression. “Are you saying you want to turn it down?”
“I’m saying I want to choose what I actually want instead of what I think Ishouldwant.”
Hunter crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around me from behind. I lean into him, feeling the solid warmth of his chest against my back.
“What do you actually want?” he asks quietly.
“My plan is to keep developing what we started. I want to run the PR department at the Havoc and make it into something special. I want to wake up in this apartment with you and not have to pretend this is temporary.” Turning in his arms, I face him. “I want this to be real, Hux. Permanent. Not a contract with an expiration date, but an actual life we’re building together.”
The look in his eyes when I say it makes my knees weak. It looks like I’ve just given him something he was afraid to ask for.
His voice is rough. “Are you sure? Because there’s no guarantee. We could break up tomorrow and then you’d have given up this opportunity for nothing.”
