Page 116 of It's Not PMS, It's You
“It doesn’t sound like it.”
I knew stress was bad, but what happened to Nick was horrible.
I reached out and grabbed Nick’s hand, squeezing it. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Heads-up!” someone yelled.
Startled, we jumped back as a football landed in the water next to us, splashing us both.
Nick grabbed the football and tossed it back.
It landed perfectly in the hands of the teenager.
“Pretty impressive throw there.”
Nick grinned. “I could’ve gone pro in the NFL. I gave it up to dig ditches.”
I stared at him. “Really?”
He shook his head and laughed. “No. Not even close.”
Laughing, I reached down and stuck my hands in the water. I moved them around and then stepped deeper until the water was up to my knees. “If you could choose any job in the world right now, what would it be?”
“That’s easy. I’m already doing it.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Of course. I knew early on what I wanted to do with my life. I graduated from Cal Poly with a degree in landscape architecture.” His eyes lit up with pride. “I worked for a few companies, got my experience, and then branched out on my own and started my own business. With the exception of my big mistake of trying to expand, followed by the heart attack, everything has gone according to plan. This is my passion and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
“I’m impressed. You knew what you wanted to do at a young age, and you went for it.”
“So did you.”
I shrugged. “Not quite. My original goal was to also have my own business.”
“You’re going to be managing partner, the top dog of the company.”
“True, but I wouldn’t actually be the owner outright. The other partners underneath me would still own shares in the company. That will never change. When you have a board of directors and multiple partners, it’s not the same as owning a company with nobody to answer to but yourself. I like to be in control.”
Nick grinned. “I believe that. You’re a pro at bossingmearound.”
I laughed. “Stuff a sock in it, Nicky.”
Nick threw his hands up in defense. “I should know better, messing with you.”
“Heads-up!” the same person yelled.
The football landed in the water next to us again.
Nick grabbed the football and tossed it back, another perfect toss. “Then let me ask you . . . if you could choose any job in the world right now, what would it be?”
I crinkled my nose. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Well, you’re a smart woman. I have no doubt that you’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks.” That was sweet of him.
“And beautiful,” he added.
