Page 37 of Married in Michigan

“I’m moving out. It’s a sudden thing.”

He sighs. “It was good having you there. But I get it. My mom died a few years ago, and I had to upend my entire life to deal with it.”

This is the worst part of this situation, but I choke it down. “Yeah. Thanks for understanding. I’ll make sure it’s clean.”

“Nah, don’t worry. I know you’re a neat sort. Hope things work out, Makayla. Good luck.”

I sigh sadly. “Thanks, Bill. You’re a dear for being so understanding.”

“Hey, life happens, you know?”

Before I can think too hard, I call my manager at the pub—Brad. He’s a brusque, all-business sort. “Makayla. Talk to me.”

No beating around the bush with Brad. “I have a family emergency that’s taking me out of state for the indefinite future. Normally I’d give two weeks’ notice, but under the circumstances, I can’t.”

He huffs, annoyed. “Shit timing. I’m down three girls on the floor this weekend already, and you’re quitting?”

“I’m sorry. Nothing I can do. I feel bad, but—”

“Fine, fine. Family first, I get it. Not great for me, but I’ll figure it out.” He pops gum. “Guess I need to make some calls about new help. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Brad. Sorry again.”

That call over, I have two down and the scariest to go. Those jobs just filled in the gaps. The hotel is my big paycheck, the job I can’t afford to lose.

I glance at Paxton. “This is the big one. You’re sure about this? Once I quit this one, there’s no going back for me, so you better be rock solid fucking certain on this.”

He nods, hands in his pockets. “I’ve got your back on this, Makayla. Even if it goes sideways somehow, I’ll see you’re on your feet when the dust settles. On my honor as a deBraun.”

My thumb hovers over the entry in my phone for Tanya. “I am so stupid,” I whisper to myself. “This is so stupid. Why the hell am I doing this?”

Paxton opens his mouth, but I hit the green phone icon, and wave a hand at him to forestall his protest or attempt at comfort or whatever it was going to be.

“Hi, Makayla,” Tanya answers. “I hope you’re not calling to switch shifts on me, because we’re short today, and I’ve already had two girls call in sick, so I really, really need you.”

I can’t stifle the groan. “I—shit, Tanya. I’m sorry, I—”

She blows out a breath. “You havegotto be kidding me. You’re quitting.”

“I have to. I’m sorry.” Not entirely a lie, but it feels like it.

“Goddammit.” We’ve worked together for too long for her to bother hiding her feelings behind some veneer of professionalism. “Tell me I’ve at least got two weeks before I need a replacement?”

My silence is telling.

“Your mom?” Tanya surmises; she knows the basics.

“Yeah,” I whisper, unable to lie beyond that.

“Well, your check is here, along with an envelope to you which I assume is from Mrs. deBraun, and which I assume is a bonus for the penthouse job.”

“I’ll come get it later today.” I hesitate. “I’m sorry, Tanya. I really am. I’ve never called in sick, never been late, and only rarely ask to switch shifts. You know I’d never quit last second without notice and without a damn good reason. I hate doing it, but I’m really out of options at this point.”

She makes a sound that’s half groan, half sigh. “I know, Makayla. I really hope things work out for you.”

I swallow hard. “Me too, girl.”

We say our goodbyes, and I hang up the call, toss my phone onto the table, and take a sip of my coffee—I grunt and spit it back, because it’s gone cold; a glance at the pot shows that Paxton took the last full cup.