The Man I Thought I Loved (Two-Faced #2) - E. L. Todd Page 0,16
my paper for four years in a row. When I graduated, it was at a time when newspapers were losing revenue and income as a writer was less realistic, but that didn’t change my decision to pursue it. I knew I’d have to work even harder to get the job I wanted. But now I have it. Sure, ten years ago, I would be making twice as much, but that’s just how it goes.”
“What is it about the job that you’re so passionate about?”
She considered the question for a long time.
“What would make you put your life on the line in Iraq? What would make you chase down a criminal in an alleyway?”
Her gaze turned back to me. “The truth.”
I watched her eyes soften with sincerity.
“Preserving the truth of the world. Tell people what’s really happening. Documenting it for generations to come. If I weren’t sent to Iraq, all our information for that story would have come from other sources, which makes it biased. If you really want to get to the core of a situation, you need to witness it yourself. I know I’m not a doctor or a firefighter, but I think my job is pretty important. The media has the ability to completely dictate our way of life. It’s pretty important…at least, I think so.”
“It is important. It must be if you think your life is worth it.”
She shrugged. “We’re all gonna die sometime, right? Personally, I’d rather die young than when I’m old with some disease or inability to remember who I am.”
“There’s a lot of years in between that, though. The golden years can be a wonderful time…before the end.”
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally. “Enough about me.”
“You’re far more interesting than I am.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not some sexy billionaire with the world at his feet…”
“That’s not interesting. Boring, if you ask me.”
She released a laugh. “If you’re bored with a life in the fast lane, you’re doing it wrong.”
“Grass is always greener on the other side…” I’d been living this life a long time, and the older I became, the less it meant to me. I’d always been financially secure, while everyone else was out hustling for a better life, investing their time and energy into that dream. But since I was already there, I realized the things that really brought joy weren’t tangible like money. Instead, it was conversations, connections, people. Spending time with Carson and her friends gave me a kind of simplicity that I found exhilarating. It was peaceful…easy. I wished I could have it again. “What else are you working on right now?”
“Just a few smaller pieces. You can’t hit a home run every single time.”
“Makes sense.”
“You think I could get some photos that would reflect the family values of the company? Perhaps your childhood home? Something like that?”
“I grew up in the city, but we had a house in Connecticut where we spent a lot of time.”
“Did you sell it when your parents passed?”
“Actually, no. It’s still there. I just haven’t visited in a long time.” I felt ashamed to go back, not after the way I’d dishonored the family name.
“Well, is that something you’re open to?”
I could have said no, but I didn’t want to decline an opportunity to spend time with her. The world went still whenever we were together. Despite the disastrous way we ended, it felt like things were better now than they used to be. “Yes.”
“Great. We’ll take a drive. Maybe your sister can come along. I should interview her too.”
“Not a bad idea.”
She held her pen and scribbled notes into the notebook before she grabbed the recorder and turned it off.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She hooked the recorder on to the necklace around her throat before she closed her notebook.
“When did your parents pass away?” I felt like I could ask her anything I wanted, and instead of wanting to know less now that we weren’t together, I wanted to know more.
“Pretty young. Denise and I had just become adults.”
My father’s death was still relatively recent, so it hurt all the time. “May I ask how they passed?”
She sighed. “Drunk driver.”
“Wow…I’m sorry.”
“Well, don’t be too sorry because they were the drunk ones. They went to a party and had been drinking. Instead of calling for a ride or even calling me, they drove home and slammed into a telephone pole. Died on impact.”
“Oh fuck.” Now I felt terrible for asking, for putting her on the spot to share that with me.