smart and ambitious. I like that.”
I’d never been called ambitious before. My family appreciated the work I did, and I knew that Ford was supportive as well, but I sometimes got the sense that everyone thought of my photography as more of a hobby than a long-term career. Maybe that was why I’d been able to confess my feelings to Andrew, basically a complete stranger, before anyone in my family.
The thing was, I couldn’t just abandon ship to go off on some self-indulgent, soul-searching art sabbatical. As much as I yearned to photograph the wider world—I loved visiting ancient ruins and crumbling cemeteries in particular—I had a responsibility to make sure the agency and all the people it employed stayed afloat.
Still, it was nice to talk about my dreams with someone.
“I’d love to see more of your work sometime,” he said. “Outside of the agency stuff.”
“Okay?” I said, a little surprised by his interest. “Sure. I mean, I’m flattered.”
He took his wallet out, extracted a business card, and handed it over. “I have to confess, I’m not just a casual observer. I’m in the business myself, so to speak.”
Andrew Apellido, Editor-in-Chief, lookingglass.
“We’re an up-and-coming online publication,” he said. “I’ve seen your work, and I have to say, you’ve got just the eye. I think you’re perfect for what we’re looking for. Plus, if you don’t mind me saying so, the Zoric name would be a good prestige boost for the magazine.”
I didn’t mind, especially since a lot of people still saw my family as pariahs. It was nice to know others out there still thought the Zoric name carried some weight. In a good way.
Then I turned over the card and noticed the address. “Oh.”
“What?” Andrew asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” I said. “It’s just that you’re based in New York. I mean, I know the internet is a thing, but—”
“Ah. Yes,” he said. “I’d want you there in person. Ideally, we’d send you out on freelance assignments, eventually giving you more creative control—maybe even a permanent position if it works out. I’d love to discuss it more in detail. We could fly you out, of course.”
I found myself tempted. What would it be like to go to New York to work? To move there? I’d miss my family, for sure, but maybe I deserved a fresh start. If it weren’t for Ford, I’d probably say yes.
But my chest hurt when I remembered that he wouldn’t be in my way forever. That our marriage was temporary.
Clearing the tightness from my throat, I said, “Circle back to me in a year. I’ve got a contract I can’t get out of, but I’m interested. For sure.”
He looked pleased. “Why don’t I give you my personal number. That way you can call me directly once your contract is up.”
We exchanged our contact info, and just as Andrew was finishing up entering his number into my phone, Ford appeared out of the crowd.
The expression on his face was one I’d never seen before. He looked like a caveman, stalking aggressively toward us, his eyes shifting between me and Andrew. When he reached me, he put his arm around my waist, pulling me close.
Definitely caveman behavior.
“Ford,” I said, trying to smooth things over. “This is Andrew Apellido. He’s the editor-in-chief of a magazine in New York.”
“Oh?” Ford gave Andrew a glare, lifting his hand to stroke my shoulder possessively.
“We were talking about work opportunities,” I said pointedly.
“Is that so,” Ford said, sounding skeptical.
I didn’t like my husband’s tone. I didn’t like his meatheaded show of ownership over me. And I really didn’t like how rude he was being to Andrew.
“This is my husband, Ford Malone,” I said to Andrew, hoping he would understand.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Andrew said coolly, giving Ford a terse nod.
He responded with, “I appreciate you keeping my wife company while I was busy. I can take it from here.” So dismissive. Like he was just shooing Andrew away.
Seriously? I’d been standing around by myself all night, but of course, this is what finally got Ford’s attention. Another man chatting me up. I shot Andrew a look that I hoped expressed my apology for my husband’s behavior.
“Emzee,” Andrew said with a gentle smile. “It was lovely meeting you and having a chance to talk about art. I hope we’ll connect again soon. Ford—”
“Goodbye,” Ford said pointedly, with a condescending smile on his face.
Andrew raised a brow, and I felt Ford go tense next to me.
Thankfully, Andrew excused himself before my husband