time. What with all this studying and my regular job and my Etsy job and my volunteer work at the gallery… I don’t think I can fit it in.”
“I’m talking about this being a full-time job. You could quit your job at Summit Insurance.”
My head jerks back. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. We can afford to pay you good money. We have benefits. I know your plate is pretty full right now, so we could be flexible to give you more time to study.” His eyes search my face, and the concerned-dad look in them makes my heart soften.
“That would be a really big move,” I say slowly.
“It would. But it could be a good move.”
I nod, but my face must look doubtful.
“What do you like about your job?”
I consider that. “I enjoy solving problems. Coming up with solutions that help people accomplish their goals. At Summit, it’s other departments.”
“You would have that at Dream Homes. And you’d have more time for your Etsy shop.”
That’s the way to persuade me. I love the design work I do. And I do want to paint more. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course. No rush.”
“Thank you.”
Wow. That is definitely something to think about.
When I started this crazy journey to find my family, I was dissatisfied with my life. I wanted more. Needed more. I took a big leap outside my comfort zone and found my family and more than I ever bargained for. Now the idea of leaving my job both excites me and scares the crap out of me. I’ve come a long way, and maybe I should rely on my instincts, which I’ve learned are pretty damn good. But my cautious background is still waving at me not to take another reckless jump.
I haven’t told Trace I love him yet. I want to, but I’m terrified he won’t say it back. I know he cares about me. We’ve been having so much fun together—going to a wine festival, the beach, biking, walking with Cheddar, and just hanging (and banging) at my place or his. I’ve even helped him with the work he’s doing on his house. I know nothing about construction or renovations, but I can paint and hold things in place while he uses his, ahem, big tools. Watching him work is like porn, honestly. He’s so strong and competent; it turns me on. He doesn’t complain when I attack him.
I did some research into love spells. There isn’t a hard rule against them, but they are considered questionably ethical. I struggle with my conscience a little, worried that without some magical help, Trace will never allow himself to have a relationship with me.
But I can’t do it. If Trace doesn’t love me because of me, I’m not going to do something unethical to make him. I’m worth more than that.
On the weekend, we go to an art festival in Old Town. The street is closed down with tents set up for eating and drinking and music. Other tents display art from various vendors. We check out all kinds of paintings, sculptures, and photographs, eat hot dogs and corn on the cob, and drink beer. At seven thirty we gather with the crowd to listen to the band, dancing along to the music.
When that’s done, we stroll the street to look at more of the vendors. As we approach one, a woman looks up. “Trace.”
His hand tenses in mine. “Parminder. Hi.”
She narrows her eyes at us, her gaze traveling to me, down to our clasped hands, and then back to Trace. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah. How are you?”
“I’m great. You remember Kay?”
The woman next to Parminder raises a hand in greeting.
“Yeah. Hi, Kay. And this is Romy.” He releases my hand and shifts away from me.
I force a smile. “Nice to meet you both. Are you enjoying the fair?”
“It’s so much fun,” Parminder says. “We were here last year, weren’t we, Trace?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s right.”
I keep my smile in place. Parminder’s eyes are shooting sharp, pointy barbs at both Trace and me. The air around us vibrates with tension.
Parminder’s hand goes to a silver chain at her throat. “I’m still wearing the necklace you bought me that night.” She lifts it so that the heart charm dangles and glints.
Trace’s smile is stiff. “Oh yeah. Well. We need to move on. Nice seeing you both.”
I scamper after him as he hoofs it down the street. “Nice to meet you!” I call.
He’s marching so fast I can barely keep up. “Hey. Slow down.”