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Chapter

Sixteen

On Friday morning, the interview goes so well that I think I might throw up.

It had taken HR only a day to schedule the call with Addison Marshall, my potential manager, though I’d entertained the hope that maybe they wouldn’t reach back out at all.

If they hadn’t, it would be so easy to pretend that the end of summer was still some far-off thing.

If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have to face reality for a few more weeks.

But HR had responded, and the interview went great, and Addison was lovely.

“I’m already charmed by you, Josephine, and I know the team will be thrilled to meet you, too,” she had said.

“I’ll be in touch soon to schedule the next round.

It was so nice to meet you today.” Her honey-brown hair, expensively dyed and styled in a topknot on her head, bounced from side to side with her little shimmy of enthusiasm.

I’d exchanged some pleasantry I can’t remember now and kept the smile frozen on my face until I was sure that the virtual meeting had ended and my camera was off.

Then I’d leapt into my unmade bed with Howard curled up next to a pillow, buried my face into his belly, and silently screamed.

Liam had found me like that after work and tempted me downstairs with the promise of milkshakes he’d picked up on his way home.

Now I slouch into the couch cushions and squeeze the bridge of my nose until the pain forces me to let go. Liam sits across from me with Howard on his lap, the two of them patiently waiting for the rundown.

“It went well,” I say. “It went really, really well. It’s everything I could ever want, Liam.”

With this job, I’d have more agency in which projects I worked on, my own direct report, a seat of leadership among the team…everything I never got when I was at Incite. Everything I’d spent so many years working toward.

God, and so much money.

I push my glasses into my hair and cover my eyes with my hand.

“I could afford my own apartment,” I say wistfully before looking at him.

“I could ditch my bitchy roommates and get a little studio. My commute would be shorter, I could find a grocery store that’s not seven blocks away, I could adopt the cat I always said I wanted, but… ”

His head dips gently to the side. “But what?”

“I just didn’t think it would happen this fast.”

The thought of sliding back into a marketing role so soon…

There would be familiarity in the routine, yes.

I know the industry inside and out, and I’m aware of its expectations, intricacies, and weaknesses.

Just like slipping into Jaylie’s skin, I know exactly how to shift back into Josephine.

I’ve got a costume and everything: my killer black pencil skirt that makes my ass look amazing, the magenta blazer that I always wear when I need an extra burst of confidence, and tall clicking heels that make me feel powerful.

I know the steps to the song and dance, I know how to pitch, and I know how to convince and when to push.

Addison’s description of the job sounded simple. Theoretically, I could do it in my sleep.

But I’d thought the same about Incite. And then, when they really increased the pressure, I couldn’t take it. I broke.

“After everything that happened, I don’t—Liam, I don’t know if I can handle it.”

Liam’s expression goes gentle in a way that immediately has my hackles up. “Just because Incite didn’t end well doesn’t mean it’ll be the same this time. Sometimes layoffs—”

“It wasn’t layoffs,” I snap. I can’t believe I’m finally saying it.

“What?”

“I wasn’t laid off from Incite,” I say carefully. It’s the first time I’ve ever given the words voice, and each one tastes more bitter than the last.

“I was fired.”

He exhales a soft laugh, as if to ease the sudden tension. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“It’s not,” I insist. “I wasn’t let go because of budget cuts or whatever, like I’d said. I—I lied, Liam, I’m sorry. But it was my fault. I deserved it.”

I squint, as if that might be enough to keep the tears currently flooding my eyes from escaping. The stress of the interview, of these choices, of holding the truth of this in—

“It wasn’t bad luck at all. It was me. ”

Liam’s brows draw together in concern. “Tell me what happened.”

And I do.

My vision narrows and I’m suddenly back there again.

I’m on the subway at 9 p.m. , heading home after a long day of bombing a pitch meeting, being chewed out by my manager, and forgetting lunch.

It’s not the worst day I’ve ever had at Incite, but it’s top five at least. There’s a coffee stain on my magenta blazer from where I spilled my fourth cup of the day.

My laptop is tucked into the tote bag at my side.

Even after I stayed so late, there is still so much of my presentation I have to fix, and my team needs the new draft in their inbox by tomorrow morning.

I go home, burrow myself under the comforter of my twin bed (it’s the only size that fits in my tiny room), and pull open my laptop.

I keep the other lights off, so the square screen alone illuminates my face.

My mind blank and empty, I stare at the screen for a good hour before I drift off to sleep.

The next day, I don’t send the presentation. I don’t go to work, and I don’t get out of bed except to pee.

The following day is the same. I don’t even open my laptop, but it glares at me from where I’ve pushed it to the corner of the bed.

A week passes like this. My manager sends me dozens of texts and calls me twice as many times. I email to tell her I’m sick. I never pick up the phone. I haven’t showered yet. Last week’s paycheck funds food delivery after food delivery.

During the second week, HR gets involved.

They are extremely puzzled. How is it that one of their top performers has fucked up so badly?

We have resources, they soothe, for whatever it is that you’re going through.

But I already burned through my two allotted mental health days back in early February and used more than double my sick time.

I think about calling a friend to come over, but I don’t know who I would call, and I know even less about what I would say.

I can’t do it anymore! I imagine announcing.

Every time I try to turn on my laptop I feel so panicked that my muscles lock up and I forget how to breathe.

Liam’s all the way in Texas, and calling my parents is out of the question.

All of my other friends are co-workers, and “friends” is probably too generous of a term for them anyway.

Lunches and happy hours spent bitching about work doesn’t leave a lot of room for real friendship to grow.

“At the end of the third week,” I finish eventually, “I was allowed to resign. ‘We don’t see you growing with our team,’ they said.

I could tell they felt bad about it all, enough that they didn’t fire me outright in a way that would have gone on my record.

But in the end I was still encouraged to leave. ”

Liam is quiet for a moment. “Did something happen to make you disconnect from it all so suddenly?” he asks.

“Not at all.” That was the worst part. There was no event that I could map my feelings back to, no tragedy to justify the way I broke down. “One day, it just…got to me. One day, it was just too much.”

I press my knuckles to my eyes, attempting to stem the flow of tears.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I haven’t told anyone, and I’ve barely admitted it to myself.

I—I feel like I’ve taken advantage of you this whole time, Liam, when it’s always been my fault that I’m even in this position. It’s not fair that I—”

“Sadie, shut up.”

It’s like a slap in the face. My jaw falls open and I gape at him, stunned. “What?”

“Shut up.” Liam’s grinning. He shrugs dramatically. “So you messed up.”

“Badly.”

He waves one hand flippantly. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you regret how you left, and maybe it wasn’t the most graceful exit, but—do you regret leaving?”

I hate how easy a question it is to answer. “No.”

“Do you think I’m a bad person because I didn’t move to New York with you? Because I chickened out? Does it make me a failure?”

“God, of course not, Liam.”

He looks at me meaningfully. “Sadie, listen. Whatever the world throws at you or whatever choices or mistakes you make on your own, I’ll always be here for you.

” He leans to brace his elbows on his knees.

“You could have told me the truth from the beginning, and it wouldn’t have changed a thing.

You would still be welcome for as long as you like. ”

And just like that, the knot in my chest loosens, and I pull Liam into a rough hug. My voice is muffled against his shoulder. “I love you so much.”

Liam wraps his arms around me, and we pull each other close in a Howard sandwich. “Love you, too. Stay forever. I mean it.”

I laugh and wipe at my eyes. “That’s what makes this so complicated,” I say thickly. Maybe part of me even wants to take him up on his offer. “I don’t know what to do.”

“At the end of the day, there’s no pressure either way,” Liam says slowly. “So why not just see how things go?”

Even as I nod, I can’t help but smile. “You sound like Noah.”

He blinks in surprise. “You told him about this?”

“No, it was—” I have to pause to clear my suddenly dry throat. “We were talking about something else.”

Liam’s not letting me get away with that. He leans backward, regarding me down the bridge of his nose as his mouth curls into a teasing smile. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together.” Not a question.

“We wrote a story this week. About the D&D game.” It’s carefully laid distraction bait, personalized specially for Liam.

He bites, eyes narrowing. “A story?”

“He called it roleplaying.”

Liam’s eyebrows climb to hover over the lenses of his rimless glasses. “Oho, okay. Whoa. What sort of roleplay? The handsome scoundrel and the celibate priestess?”

I snort. “Jaylie’s not that sort of priestess—”

Liam’s brows rise even higher. “Not celibate? So then it was definitely a spicy role—”

“No!” I snap, laughing. “It wasn’t that sort of roleplay.”

“Not yet, anyway,” he says under his breath, snickering. “Better you write that part privately with him than subject my game table to witnessing it.”

“Oh god, Liam, I wouldn’t dare.” Feeling sheepish, I reach forward to run my fingers over Howard’s fur, which immediately starts up the purr engine. “Do you think—am I playing wrong?”

“Wrong? How do you mean?”

“Like—is it normal for two players to roleplay privately?”

Liam pauses to pick up his milkshake, which had sat forgotten on the coffee table as I’d had my afternoon breakdown on his couch.

What little is left is all but melted at this point, but he sips noisily from the straw in a valiant attempt anyway.

“Honestly, one-on-one roleplay is pretty advanced for a couple of first timers,” he says thoughtfully.

“Not a lot of my other players do it, unless they’re wanting to explore their character dynamics more seriously.

But it’s just another way to engage with the game. I’m honored that you’re so invested.”

I nod to myself. “What about…romance?” My pitch drops dramatically on the last word.

He grins. “Go on.”

“Is that something that happens in other games? Flirting between characters?”

“Of course it is. Hell, I’ve seen characters get married, have kids, try to seduce the villain…

all sorts of things. Some DMs won’t allow romance at their tables, but I’ve always thought that’s ridiculous.

As long as everyone’s having a good time—and no one’s being, like, fucking weird about it—I welcome it. ”

I don’t respond, but I don’t have to. Liam elbows my ribs. “If you do decide to pursue romance, you have my blessing.” He pats my hand. “Roll with advantage, Sadie.”