Page 35 of The Maine Event (Romancing the Workplace #2)

“It was delicious,” I say honestly. “It was great, really. But… I just don’t think we’re on the same wavelength. I’m trying to be more open to new things, but I guess I realized tonight that I’m not looking for the same kind of life you are.”

His jaw tightens, and he lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Seriously? You’re not even going to give this a chance?”

I shake my head gently. “It’s not fair to you to pretend I feel something I don’t. You deserve someone who’s as driven as you are, who wants the same things.”

He scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re something else, you know that? Most women would kill to be with a guy like me. Successful. Driven.”

I suppress a wince. “I’m sure they would. And I’m sure you’ll find someone who matches that ambition. But it’s not me.”

His face hardens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to argue, but then he just shakes his head. “Your loss,” he mutters, giving me one last, almost contemptuous glance before turning on his heel and striding away.

He walks away like he’s made some kind of profound impression. And I suppose he has—just not the one he’d hoped for.

The truth is, I said yes to Lyle because it felt like progress. A grown-up move. I’d been trying to say yes to more things lately—less hesitation, more life. He was charming in meetings, ambitious, maybe a bit slick—but he was interested, and that counted for something, didn’t it?

Besides, it wasn’t like I was holding out for fireworks. I’d had enough of impossible standards and perfect-on-paper crushes. Maybe what I needed was something different. Grounded. Easy. It’s just a shame Lyle is a complete douche.

I watch him go, and then pull my phone from my bag to find a driver. I dipped my toe in the dating pool, and, quite frankly, found it wanting. But at least I put myself out there. And maybe that’s progress enough for one night.

The app times out for the fourth time and I give up.

No drivers currently available . Fantastic.

It’s about four miles to the Lower West Side.

I’m not going to walk it—not in these heels—but I decide to walk in the general direction in the hope that the Friday night rush will die down and I can snag a driver later.

It’s been a long time since I spent time downtown.

Certainly at night. The city streets bustle with energy as I walk, my heels clicking against the pavement.

Neon signs glow, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the faces of passersby.

Laughter and chatter spill from bustling restaurants and bars, the sound mingling with the distant honk of car horns.

Despite the lively atmosphere, I feel strangely disconnected, lost in my own thoughts. The date with Lyle plays on repeat in my mind, each moment dissected and analyzed. On the surface, he was determined, attractive, successful —everything I thought I wanted. So why did it feel so… wrong?

I pause at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. A couple walks by, hand in hand, their laughter carrying on the breeze. A pang of longing hits me, so sharp it actually hurts. The last time I laughed like that, the last time I felt that kind of connection with anyone, was with Dan.

The light changes and I move with the crowd, still lost in thought. I’ve spent so long chasing success, climbing the corporate ladder, that I’ve neglected what really matters. Friendships, hobbies, love… They’ve all taken a backseat to my ambition.

But what is success, really, if you have no one to share it with? What’s the point of reaching the top if you’re alone when you get there? I might have got there with Dan, I really might have. But I messed up.

A gust of wind sends a chill down my spine, and I wrap my coat tighter around myself. The city lights blur as tears prick at my eyes, a sudden rush of emotion taking me by surprise. Did I miss my one opportunity, or is it true what they say, that there’s plenty more fish in the sea?

What I do know is, I want more than this. I deserve more than this. More than superficial dates and surface-level connections. I want something real, something meaningful. I want a life that’s rich with love and laughter and purpose.

I let the revelation wash over me. It’s scary, admitting what I want. It means being vulnerable, opening myself up to the possibility of being hurt.

But it also means opening myself up to the possibility of something wonderful.

I square my shoulders, a new sense of determination filling me.

I may not know exactly what I’m looking for, but I know I won’t find it by playing it safe.

This evening may have been an unmitigated disaster, but that shouldn’t mean try it once and give up.

It’s time to take a chance, to put myself out there in a way I never have before.

It’s time to go after what I really want.

As I turn the corner, lost in thought, a familiar face catches my eye. I stop in my tracks, blinking in disbelief at the massive billboard towering above me.

Dan Rhodes.

He’s grinning down at me, his eyes twinkling with that same mischievous charm I remember from our time in Maine. But there’s something different about him now, a newfound confidence that radiates from the billboard.

“Tune in to Heartstrings this fall,” the billboard proclaims, “starring Dan Rhodes.”

I stare up at the image, a rush of emotions flooding through me.

Surprise, first and foremost. When I’d last seen Dan, he’d been adamant that he had turned his back on acting forever, determined not to miss a moment of Chloe growing up.

But now, here he is, larger than life on a billboard for a new sitcom.

Pride swells in my chest, mixed with a bittersweet twinge of regret. I was right. Seeing him up there, it’s clear he took my advice to heart. He chose to restart his acting career. He stepped back into the spotlight—and he’s shining.

And yet, there’s something else too. A frustration I can’t quite shake, a sense of missed opportunity and injustice that tugs at my heart.

We fell out because I could see what Dan couldn’t.

Admittedly, I shouldn’t have pushed without his consent, but still, he got there eventually.

What if he hadn’t been so quick to dismiss the idea?

What if I’d just… waited? Let it be his decision, in his own time?

My mind flickers back to that napkin, the one he slid across the table with his quiet, knowing smile. Character or actor?

I hadn’t answered him then. I don’t know if I could answer now. But maybe that was the moment—the fork in the road.

I shake my head, trying to push away the thoughts. It’s ridiculous. I barely know the man. Not really. And yet, somehow, seeing him up there on that billboard, I miss… him. Us. Or at least the potential of us.

I linger there, staring up at the billboard, letting the conflicting emotions wash over me. Satisfaction and regret. Longing and resignation. Pride that he found his way. And a quiet ache that I wasn’t there to share it. It’s a bittersweet mix, one that leaves me feeling strangely raw and exposed.

But as I finally tear my gaze away and continue down the street, I can’t help but smile. Because even if Dan Rhodes and I never cross paths again, even if the connection we shared was fleeting, seeing him up there on that billboard gives me hope.

Hope that it’s never too late to chase a dream. Hope that, even when life takes us in different directions, the people who touch our lives stay with us, inspiring us to be our best selves.

And most of all, hope that somewhere out there, the kind of love I’m looking for is waiting for me. I just have to be brave enough to go after it.

The streets are alive with the usual Friday night rhythm—music drifting from open doors, laughter echoing down alleys, the clink of glasses and the occasional burst of shouting. It should feel electric. Inviting. But I feel oddly detached from it all, like I’m walking through someone else’s life.

My heels echo against the sidewalk as I head towards nothing in particular, and that’s when it hits me—how often I’ve moved in straight lines.

Always knowing the destination. Always chasing the next milestone, the next title, the next “win.” My entire life has been one long itinerary, and tonight, for once, I don’t have anywhere to be.

No deadline. No calendar invite. No obligation.

And I feel… untethered.

But beneath that, something deeper stirs. A question I’ve never really stopped long enough to ask: If I strip away the career, the hustle, the facade—what’s left? Who’s left?

I’ve always thought ambition was what defined me. But maybe I used it to protect myself, to stay busy enough that I didn’t have to look too closely at what I might be missing.

And I have been missing something.

Not just a person. Not even Dan. But a version of myself who’s curious. Soft. Present. A Rachel who’s not performing, not selling a vision, not an actor —but just being.

Maybe, for the first time in my adult life, I want to know what it feels like to live without a script.

And the thought terrifies me… but it also thrills me.

And maybe that’s the lesson in all of this. That life is full of missed opportunities and paths not taken, but it’s also full of new beginnings and second chances. Somewhere out there, my own billboard is waiting. And when I find it, I’ll be ready to take center stage and shine.