Page 68 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
Melinda wants to give me the job of my dreams. Sure, I want it. This is all I’ve ever wanted since my first day as a junior executive with a box full of things for a cubicle desk and a dream.
But it’s in New York.
Closer to my family.
Further away from the life I've built.
Further away from Kat.
My gut reaction is to not take it. Maybe not respond to Melinda today, but soon. I’ll just tell her that I’m happy where I am in Nashville, and I’d rather wait for a spot to come open there than move to New York. But I can’t let that thought process before I feel Kat’s eyes on me. I don’t know how, but I feel her presence before I see her. When I look up and we make eye contact, she looks just as worried as I know I probably do. I don't even have a second to try to figure out what she's thinking before she takes off toward the elevator.
“Kat!” I yell, standing up so quick that I knock down the chair. "Kat! Wait!"
I’m in a full-on sprint through the Timberline lobby, and the only reason I catch up to her is because she’s waiting on the elevator.
“Hey.” I grab her wrist so she’ll turn around and look at me, which is the first time that I see the tears pooling in her eyes. “Kat…”
I can’t say or do anything else as the elevator arrives. I don’t know what she’s sad about or if she’s just going off of my reaction to the email. I want to explain everything, tell her that I’m not taking the job. But not here, in an elevator, with a family stepping in with us.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I whisper as I hold her hand.
She doesn’t say anything. Neither of us do until we’re back into our room. And even then, Kat’s silent as she pulls from my hold, instead heading straight to her luggage.
“Are you leaving earlier than expected?”
She shakes her head. “Just getting ready.”
“For what?”
She stops at that question, slowly turning around. “The inevitable.”
Okay, I definitely feel like we’re reading two different books now. “Can we back up? What's going on in that head of yours?"
She doesn’t say anything, instead still continuing to throw her clothes haphazardly into her suitcase. "Kat, talk to me."
My hand on her shoulder is the only thing that stops her whirlwind of motions. But when she turns around, it's the single tear falling down her cheek that breaks me.
"The Timberline. I got it."
Four days ago, those five words would’ve sent me into a blind rage. I’d be cursing out a woman named Katherine Smith and pouting about another notch in my loss column. Yet all I feel is pure excitement for her.
“That’s amazing," I say, bringing her into my arms. "I'm so proud of you."
She shakes her head and pushes out of my hold. "You're proud of me?"
"Of course I am. It was a good presentation, and Declan and Howard seemed to like it. Of course I'm proud of you."
Her eyes are squinting as if she's trying to see something on me that she can't quite make out. "You're not mad?"
"I'm not."
“But they sent you the email.”
I check my phone quickly, but I don’t see anything. “Not yet, but I’m sure it’s coming.”
“Then what were you reading on your phone that had you cosplaying as Casper?”
I didn’t know how to bring this up, but I guess now’s as good of a time as any. “I got an email from my boss.”
