Page 37 of Breadwinner
EIGHT
NELL
RULE #4: ANTICIPATE EVERYTHING; REACT TO NOTHING.
The applause faded as Nell stepped offstage in the large conference hall. She had just given a forty-five-minute talk on the importance of funding research to further the advancement of women’s sports, and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember a single word of it. She had been entirely on autopilot.
She offered practiced smiles to the modest swarm gathering around her, made up of investors, policy strategists, startup founders, and the usual starry-eyed MBA types eager to tell her how much her “leadership presence” meant to them.
She was, as always, gracious, kind, and most importantly, brief, as she made her way into the lobby of the convention center in search of Rowan.
Nate joined her almost immediately, slipping quietly beside her like he’d always done since childhood before falling into step next to her. Her one constant in life.
“Great talk. You’ve always known how to hold a room, but man, you look exhausted.”
Nell didn’t justify Nate’s observation with a reaction. He wasn’t wrong; she was tired. It had been a long few days, a different city every night for two weeks straight. She was finally excited to be in one place for a little while.
“You try being me,” she shot back coolly.
“Not a chance. I’d rather go back to drugs than step into your heels for a day.” Nate grinned, his dark humor popping out.
He pushed open the door for her, letting her pass through first into the lobby. Seattle’s cool, filtered sunlight had slipped behind cloud cover sometime that afternoon, making the lobby feel dim and uninviting. She scanned the crowd with a measured level of detachment, searching for Rowan, eventually spotting her across the room.
“I’ll be waiting just over there,” Nate said, gesturing toward the exit.
Rowan sliced smoothly through the crowd to her. “Nell,” she said, once she was at her side. “You have ten minutes before the meet and greet, and after that, you’re done for the day. I’ve officially canceled your dinner tonight.”
Nell raised an eyebrow.
“You’re welcome,” Rowan added, with a smirk. “I also took it upon myself to book you a full spa day tomorrow: massage, facial, steam room, the works. And no, it’s not optional. You’ve been on the road for fourteen days, and you’re starting to vibrate at CEO frequency.”
“Vibrate?” she asked.
“You’ve answered three emails mid-conversation today and told someone from the commerce department that their ‘petty sense of urgency’ isn’t your problem. You need a robe and cucumbers on your eyes, stat,” Rowan said. “Plus, you’ll love this place. It’s on an old lavender farm across the bay. You’ll get to take the ferry and everything.”
She chose not to argue with Rowan for the simple fact that Rowan was right. Nell was running on fumes and needed to slow down. The thought of slipping into a warm room with scented oil and no talking felt divine, but so did the idea of texting Sarah.
That thought stopped her. It had been at the forefront of her mind since she’d touched down in Seattle that morning. She hadn’t seen Sarah in a few weeks, not since she had brought her along as her plus-one to the WNBA championship game three weeks ago.
She should have told Sarah she was in town, but when her flight landed, she hadn’t wanted to. Not out of disinterest—God, no, far from it—but because everything between them had been so intensely connected since that weekend in the Hamptons back in August. And since then, it had only deepened each time she saw her.
Sarah was giving and generous with her attention, even when Nell wasn’t commanding it, so much so that Nell felt like the center of the room whenever she was near her. She’d known Sarah was magnetic, having observed her long before she had ever approached, but witnessing it was something else entirely. Watching Sarah shine had become Nell’s latest obsession.
But even she had her limits. She was depleted, could feel it in her entire body. There had been too many rooms with too many handshakes. Too much performance. This spa day was starting to sound like a good idea after all.
“Thank you, Rowan. You always know what I need before I do.”
“That’s my job.” Rowan smiled as she pulled out her phone and began tapping away.
Yes. Rowan was right. She was long overdue for some time to herself to recharge. And then, once she had a little more energy, she would reach out to Sarah. Because being around Sarah had a way of making her carefully crafted, meticulously managed exterior feel optional. Something about Sarah’s curiosity—the way she looked at her as if she was worth understanding, not just admiring—invited Nell toberather thanperform, but even that required energy she didn’t currently have to give.
What she wanted right now was stillness. Time to recalibrate and sort through her thoughts.
She had anticipated feeling guilty about deciding not to reach out to Sarah. That was understandable. But what she didn’t expect was the way she truly missed her, and the fact that for the last couple of weeks, it was Sarah’s voice she wanted to hear, and Sarah whom she truly wanted to be around.
Don’t react, she reminded herself.
A familiar figure emerged through the press of people. Angela Dupree, her heels clicking across the concrete floor, eyes locked on Nell like she’d just found the juiciest piece of gossip at the charity gala. Rowan, taking a hint, ducked off and out of sight.