Terrible Advice From a Career Temp- Chapter Six: You Will Experience Every Form of Humiliation

Piper held the phone between her cheek and shoulder while stirring boxed macaroni on the stove.

She was only half listening until Hawk said something so obviously rehearsed that she stopped stirring.

“You Googled me.”

Silence.

“Who? Me? No.”

“Hawk.”

“I just happened to come across an old news clip of you online.”

Piper smirked.

“You Googled me.”

“I was curious.”

“That's Googling.”

Hawk changed the subject.

“So how's the old T-shirt factory treating you?”

Before Piper could answer, he interrupted himself.

“Wait. Wasn't there a storm or something?”

“There was. It blew the roof off.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. The company died. Workers like me scattered across the economy. You know. Classic American manufacturing story.”

She could practically hear him nodding solemnly.

It had been almost three years since she'd seen Hawk.

Three years since she'd left his apartment in Hawaii before dawn, convinced that whatever spark existed between them had finally burned itself out.

Three years was a long time.

Long enough for Piper to accumulate trade-school certifications that hadn't transformed her earning potential nearly as much as the brochures had suggested.

Long enough to accumulate student loans that had transformed her finances exactly as much as the brochures had failed to mention.

She'd worked fast food.

Retail.

Office temp jobs.

Whatever gave her hours.

Whatever paid.

Whatever kept the lights on.

Sofie and Benny-Boy had another baby during that time.

Smol was no longer particularly smol.

The newer baby had consequently been dubbed Mini-Smöl.

Nobody knew how long the naming system could remain sustainable.

Piper certainly hadn't expected Hawk to return to her life.

“I thought you'd be married with a couple kids by now,” she teased.

Hawk gave the strained laugh of a man being reminded of goals he'd once assumed would happen automatically.

“Not me. I'm out of the Marines.”

That surprised her.

“One enlistment?”

“One was enough.”

Piper remembered the Hawk she'd first met.

Crew cut.

Marine shirt.

Muscles.

Confidence.

He'd looked like the kind of man who would remain in uniform until somebody physically removed it from him.

“So what's next?”

“I opened a construction logistics consulting business.”

Piper paused.

That collection of words could describe anything from negotiating multimillion-dollar contracts to answering emails from a folding table in somebody's garage.

“Good for you.”

“And you?”

“Oh, you know. Evil paper-pusher stuff. Whatever keeps the lights on.”

“Respectable.”

“Debatable.”

He chuckled.

Then the conversation went quiet.

Not an empty silence.

An intentional one.

“I hated how we left things,” Hawk finally said.

Piper stopped stirring again.

“I've thought about it a lot.”

She didn't answer.

“I was wondering if maybe we could...try again.”

Piper looked around her apartment.

Her quasi-boyfriend-slash-roommate had recently moved across the country, leaving her with all the bills.

Her bank account currently qualified as psychological horror.

Her most consistent companions were Ditto and Flip, two special-needs cats her ex had abandoned.

Piper was allergic to both.

Hawk said, “Let's take a trip. My treat.”

Piper's romantic judgment remained uncertain.

Her financial judgment immediately recognized the phrase my treat.

“Deal.”

San Antonio came together quickly.

Piper chose the city for reasons she didn't initially share with Hawk.

She had a job interview there.

A real one.

Corporate.

The company was headquartered in San Antonio, and Piper had been chasing the position for weeks.

So the trip could be several things at once.

A reunion.

A vacation.

An interview.

Maybe a pivot.

Maybe a lifeline.

Before leaving, Piper dropped Ditto and Flip off at Dena's.

Dena accepted the carriers with disbelief.

“I cannot believe you kept these cats.”

Ditto hissed.

“You are literally allergic to them.”

Flip hissed too.

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because What's-His-Face abandoned them, and apparently I'm the only person in the

relationship with a functioning conscience.”

Inside, Sofie had Smol balanced on one hip while the toddler consumed breakfast like a cheerful gremlin.

“So why are you seeing Hawk?” Sofie asked. “Are you two back together?”

Piper made a face.

“No.”

“You're taking a trip with him.”

“I'm using the trip to interview for a corporate job.”

Dena frowned.

“I thought you liked Hawk.”

That quieted the room.

Piper considered it.

“I don't dislike him.”

Sofie waited.

“I just don't know him anymore.”

Another pause.

“If I ever did.”

Sofie pointed at her.

“Exactly.”

Dena crossed her arms.

“I cannot believe my daughters are so opposite. One refuses to even admit she likes a man, and the other keeps having one's babies.”

Piper looked at Sofie.

Sofie suddenly became very interested in Smol's breakfast.

Piper narrowed her eyes.

“Wait.”

Sofie didn't look up.

“Are you pregnant again?”

“Shh!”

Piper's mouth fell open.

“I haven't told their d-a-d yet.”

“You know he can spell, right?”

Smol looked up.

“Dad!”

“See?”

Sofie glared.

Piper thought back.

Then it hit her.

“Oh my God. Was this your anniversary weekend?”

Sofie said nothing.

“The weekend I babysat?”

Still nothing.

Piper pointed.

“I facilitated this.”

“You facilitated dinner and a movie.”

“Apparently I facilitated more than that.”

Dena sighed.

“You two should just get married already.”

“Not while I'm pregnant,” Sofie said.

“You're always pregnant,” Piper and Dena replied simultaneously.

Sofie shrugged.

“True. But my babies are adorable.”

Smol wrapped both arms around her mother's neck.

Everyone looked at her.

Dena sighed.

“Fine. Point made.”

Piper smiled.

This was what her life looked like.

Babies.

Cats.

Borrowed carriers.

Her mother giving unsolicited opinions.

Her sister announcing pregnancies through suspicious silence.

It was messy.

Sometimes exhausting.

Frequently inconvenient.

But Piper loved them.

That distinction would become important sooner than she expected.

San Antonio greeted Piper with warm air and the faint smell of river water.

Hawk arrived about an hour later.

Piper saw him step out of a cab.

She almost didn't recognize him.

He looked older.

Softer.

Rounder through the face.

There was a little more weight around his middle and a little less hair on top.

For half a second, Piper simply stared.

Then she felt guilty.

Three years had happened to Hawk too.

She wasn't eighteen anymore either.

He spotted her.

“Piper!”

He grinned.

She hugged him.

Politely.

Hawk squeezed much harder.

Piper waited for the old feeling.

The butterflies.

The spark.

That ridiculous sense she'd once had that Hawk entering a room changed the atmospheric pressure.

Nothing came.

Mostly she wanted him to stop squeezing.

“Hawk.”

“Sorry.”

He released her.

Piper smiled.

Maybe attraction needed a minute.

She was willing to give it one.

That night they walked the River Walk.

Piper allowed herself one glass of wine.

Her interview was in the morning.

Hawk apparently had no interview in the morning.

He drank accordingly.

One bar became another.

Then another.

By the third, Piper had switched to club soda.

Hawk noticed.

“You're not fun anymore.”

He was already slurring slightly.

Piper looked at him.

“Guess not.”

What she thought was:

I developed impulse control.

At the next place, Hawk ordered another drink.

Then another.

He became louder.

Not cheerful-louder.

The other kind.

The kind where Piper became increasingly aware that strangers could hear them.

A woman walked past their table wearing a fitted red dress.

Hawk watched her.

Then leaned toward Piper.

“See, that's what I'm talking about.”

Piper frowned.

“What?”

“Women used to make an effort.”

Piper looked at the woman.

Then back at Hawk.

“She's going to dinner.”

“Exactly.”

Piper waited for the rest.

There wasn't any.

A few minutes later, Hawk began complaining about women he'd dated.

One was “crazy.”

Another was “lazy.”

Another had “let herself go.”

One had apparently expected him to text too often.

Another hadn't texted enough.

Piper sipped her club soda.

“Have you dated any women you liked?”

Hawk laughed.

“You know what I mean.”

She didn't.

That was becoming the problem.

At the next bar, two women sat nearby with two men.

Clearly couples.

One woman laughed loudly at something her date said.

Hawk looked over.

“She's cute.”

Piper assumed he was making an observation.

Then Hawk turned toward her.

“Watch this.”

Piper's stomach tightened.

“Don't.”

He was already standing.

“Hawk.”

He walked over anyway.

Piper remained at the table.

She watched him say something to the woman.

The woman's smile disappeared.

Her date turned toward Hawk.

Hawk laughed.

Whatever he said next did not improve matters.

The man stood.

Piper immediately got up.

“Hawk.”

“Relax.”

The woman looked at Piper.

Then at Hawk.

Then back at Piper with unmistakable pity.

That was worse than anger.

Piper wanted to disappear.

“Come on,” she said.

Hawk laughed as she pulled him away.

Outside, he seemed delighted with himself.

“Did you see that guy?”

“Yes.”

“He was so threatened.”

“I don't think he was threatened.”

“He stood up.”

“Because you were hitting on his date.”

“I was talking to her.”

“You told me to watch.”

“So?”

“So you were performing.”

Hawk rolled his eyes.

“You've gotten uptight.”

Piper stopped walking.

There it was again.

Not fun anymore.

Uptight.

Apparently adulthood had transformed Piper into a tremendous disappointment because

she no longer enjoyed watching drunk men antagonize strangers.

“Maybe,” she said.

Hawk grinned and threw an arm around her shoulders.

“Come on. We're both disasters.”

Piper looked at him.

Both?

She removed his arm.

Something inside her shifted.

Not dramatically.

No heartbreak.

No revelation accompanied by music.

Just a small internal click.

Hawk thought they were alike.

That bothered her more than anything he'd done all evening.

The next morning, Hawk snored like a malfunctioning leaf blower while Piper dressed for her interview.

She took an Uber across town.

Then she crushed it.

She knew before she left the building.

The interviewers liked her.

More importantly, they understood her résumé.

The strange collection of jobs, certifications, and office work Piper had always viewed as evidence that she couldn't get her life together looked completely different to them.

Adaptability.

Experience.

Persistence.

A few hours later, an email arrived.

We'd like to offer you the position.

Piper stopped walking.

She read it again.

Remote.

Corporate.

A salary large enough that she might actually be able to breathe between bills.

Then she reached the education section.

The company would pay for her bachelor's degree as long as she interned with them each summer.

Piper covered her mouth.

For years, every attempt she'd made to get ahead had required money she didn't have.

Trade school.

Certifications.

Community college.

Transportation.

Rent.

Everything wanted something before it gave anything back.

This was different.

Someone was offering to invest in her.

Piper wanted to scream.

She wanted to cry.

She wanted to call Dena.

She wanted to call Sofie.

She briefly considered becoming the sort of person who drank water regularly and maintained a planner.

Instead, she returned to the hotel.

Hawk was still asleep.

Or so she thought.

He sat up when she entered.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He rubbed his face.

“You okay?”

Piper smiled.

Then Hawk added gently:

“Don't beat yourself up if it didn't go well.”

Her smile disappeared.

She stared at him.

It hadn't even occurred to Hawk that she might have gotten the job.

Maybe he meant to comfort her.

Probably he did.

But something about his assumption stung.

Piper had walked into the room feeling ten feet tall.

One sentence reminded her that Hawk still saw the girl he'd picked up years ago.

The stranded girl.

The broke girl.

The girl without a plan.

The girl who needed him.

She suddenly didn't want to tell him.

Not yet.

“Yeah,” she said. “It was...a lot.”

Hawk gave her a sympathetic smile.

Then he rolled over.

Within minutes, he was asleep again.

Piper stood there.

Her phone contained the best news she'd received in years.

Fine.

She'd celebrate herself.

Hawk spent most of the afternoon in the hotel room watching old movies in his underwear.

Piper went out.

She visited a salon.

Walked through a park.

Saw more of the city.

Bought herself lunch.

Called Dena.

Then Sofie.

They screamed enough that Piper had to hold the phone away from her ear.

Sofie cried.

Dena cried.

Then Dena immediately began calculating what the tuition benefit meant.

“Mom.”

“I'm just saying, don't waste this.”

“I got the job six minutes ago.”

“And I'm proud of you.”

Piper smiled.

There it was.

The difference.

Her family could exhaust her.

They could inconvenience her.

They could require babysitting and rides and money and emergency favors.

But when something good happened to Piper, they were happy because it happened to her.

They didn't need it to say anything about them.

By late afternoon, Piper realized something else.

She was having considerably more fun without Hawk.

That evening, Hawk insisted they go somewhere “nice.”

The restaurant actually was nice.

Dim lighting.

Elegant tables.

Waiters who prepared drinks like choreographed theater.

One bartender tossed a shaker behind his back and caught it without looking.

Piper grinned.

“That is so cool.”

Hawk scoffed.

“It's a drink. Just pour it.”

Piper's smile faded.

A waitress passed.

Hawk looked her up and down.

Then looked at Piper.

“See?”

“See what?”

“Nothing.”

“Then don't say 'see.'”

Hawk laughed.

The waitress returned to take their order.

Hawk became charming.

Suddenly charming.

Piper recognized it because she'd once been on the receiving end.

The smile.

The teasing.

The confidence.

For years she'd remembered that charm as something effortless and rare.

Now she saw the machinery.

The waitress smiled politely.

Hawk kept going.

“So what time do you get off?”

Piper looked up.

The waitress hesitated.

“My boyfriend's picking me up.”

“Didn't ask about him.”

Piper wanted the tablecloth to swallow her.

“Hawk.”

“What?”

The waitress escaped.

Piper stared at him.

“You're on vacation with me.”

“So?”

“So maybe don't hit on the staff.”

“I wasn't hitting on her.”

“You asked when she got off.”

“Conversation.”

“She mentioned a boyfriend.”

“Women always do that.”

Piper blinked.

“Maybe because men ask when they get off.”

Hawk laughed.

“You really have changed.”

There was disappointment in his voice.

Piper realized she didn't care.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I have.”

For the first time, she meant it proudly.

Halfway through dinner, Hawk's mood shifted.

“I could tell from your face earlier that you didn't get the job.”

Piper looked at him.

His voice cracked slightly.

“It's okay, you know?”

She suddenly had a bad feeling.

“I regret leaving the Marines.”

Piper put down her fork.

“I only got out because of the DUI.”

There it was.

The locked door.

“They wouldn't let me reenlist,” Hawk continued. “But whatever. Their loss.”

Piper looked at his drink.

Then at him.

The bars.

The comments.

The women.

The bitterness.

Suddenly the entire weekend made more sense.

Hawk took another drink.

“And when you left me in Hawaii...”

“Hawk.”

“I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That I couldn't even get some mid chick to stay.”

Piper went completely still.

Hawk pointed drunkenly toward her.

“A chick I picked up at a gas station.”

Piper stared at him.

There were moments when reality rearranged itself very quickly.

This was one.

For years, Piper had wondered what Hawk thought about her leaving Hawaii.

Apparently, she knew.

“No.”

His face crumpled.

Then Hawk began to cry.

Not a dignified tear.

Not a cinematic glistening eye.

Hawk collapsed.

He buried his face in his dinner napkin.

People looked over.

“Hawk.”

“We're both losers, babe!”

Piper froze.

His voice carried through the restaurant.

“Look at us! We're a wreck!”

A waiter approaching with water stopped mid-step.

Across the room, a small child whispered loudly:

“Mom, why is she hurting that man?”

Piper closed her eyes.

Wonderful.

Hawk blew his nose.

Piper patted his shoulder with the cautious rhythm one might use on a malfunctioning household appliance.

“We could've been something.”

“Okay.”

“We still could.”

“Let's maybe discuss that when you're not crying into the table linens.”

Piper signaled for the check.

She paid just to escape.

The walk back to the hotel was quiet.

Then Hawk said:

“You know what your problem is?”

Piper nearly laughed.

She couldn't wait.

“What?”

“You're afraid to actually live.”

Piper stopped.

Hawk kept walking for several steps before realizing she wasn't beside him.

“What?”

“Why do you think that?”

“You're always worrying about something. Work. Money. Your mom. Your sister. Those cats.

Somebody always needs something from you.”

Piper stared at him.

“Those are my family.”

“Exactly.”

Hawk spread his hands.

“You could just go.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere. Start over. Stop carrying everybody.”

For one brief second, Piper understood him completely.

Hawk really believed he was offering freedom.

That was how he lived.

If something wasn't working, leave.

If a place became inconvenient, move.

If somebody wanted too much, find somebody else.

Piper thought about Dena taking exhausting jobs to keep a roof over them.

Sofie sharing cramped apartments.

Benny working construction.

The babies.

Ditto and Flip, abandoned because somebody else had decided responsibility was inconvenient.

Piper had spent years helping them.

They had spent years helping her.

Sometimes obligation was a burden.

Sometimes it was love.

Hawk apparently couldn't tell the difference.

“You think I'm stuck,” Piper said.

“Aren't you?”

“No.”

The answer surprised even her.

Hawk frowned.

Piper continued.

“I like my family.”

“I didn't say you didn't.”

“No. You don't understand. I want to be there.”

“You complain about them constantly.”

“Of course I complain about them. They're my family.”

Hawk stared.

Piper almost laughed.

“Helping Sofie with her kids doesn't mean I'm trapped. Taking care of my cats doesn't mean

I'm trapped. Living near my mom doesn't mean I failed to escape.”

Hawk shook his head.

“You could do so much more.”

There it was.

Piper looked at him.

Maybe once that sentence would have sounded romantic.

Now it sounded condescending.

“You don't know what I'm doing.”

Hawk laughed bitterly.

“Neither do you.”

Piper thought about the email sitting on her phone.

The salary.

The degree.

Her mother's scream.

Sofie's tears.

Then she looked at Hawk.

He had no idea.

And suddenly she understood why she hadn't told him.

She didn't want to share it with someone who needed her to be failing so he wouldn't feel

alone.

Back at the hotel, Hawk made a pass at her.

Piper rejected him.

That required no soul-searching whatsoever.

She took the recliner.

Hawk took the bed.

Within minutes, he was snoring again.

Piper lay awake looking at the ceiling.

For years, Hawk had occupied a strange place in her imagination.

Not quite boyfriend.

Not quite ex.

Possibility.

The man who had appeared when she was stranded.

The handsome Marine who had seemed capable when everybody else around her seemed chaotic.

She'd mistaken that feeling for something permanent.

Maybe it had been real.

Back then.

But charm wasn't character.

Confidence wasn't stability.

And being able to leave everything behind wasn't necessarily freedom.

Sometimes it was just leaving everything behind.

Piper had gotten the job.

That thought rescued the evening.

She had gotten the job.

Hawk could call her mid.

He could call her a loser.

He could decide she wasn't fun anymore.

He could flirt with every woman who crossed his path and tell himself their boyfriends were intimidated.

None of it changed what was waiting in Piper's inbox.

Tomorrow she was going home with a corporate position and a path toward finishing college.

He didn't even know.

Piper smiled in the darkness.

For once, she didn't need somebody else to validate good news before it became real.

Checkout was at eleven.

Piper was in a cab at nine sharp.

Hawk had decided to stay an extra day and “see the town.”

Piper wished him well.

Briefly.

As the cab carried her toward the airport, she thought about how much Hawk had changed.

Then she corrected herself.

Maybe he hadn't fallen from grace.

Maybe she'd simply stopped looking up at him.

That felt closer to the truth.

The Hawk she'd once loved—or thought she might love—hadn't necessarily disappeared.

Some of him had probably been real.

The kindness.

The confidence.

The man who had seen a stranded girl and helped her without asking for anything in return.

But Piper had built the rest herself.

The hero.

The possibility.

The man who knew where he was going.

She'd been young enough to confuse his certainty with wisdom.

Now she knew better.

Ditto and Flip greeted Piper with overwhelming enthusiasm.

Within seconds, both cats were rubbing against her legs.

Within thirty seconds, Piper's nose started itching.

Within a minute, she was sneezing.

“Welcome home,” Dena said.

“I hate my ex.”

Dena handed her the carriers.

Piper bribed the cats inside with treats.

“Well,” Dena announced, “we've decided we need a bigger place.”

Piper looked up.

“Again?”

“At least two bathrooms.”

“And closer to the good daycare,” Sofie added.

Piper hesitated.

The job offer was still sitting in her inbox.

Remote.

Stable.

Enough money to contribute.

For the first time, moving somewhere better didn't sound like something that depended entirely on somebody else.

“I'll move in with you,” Piper said. “If you want.”

Sofie's face lit up.

“Actually, Benny knows someone renting out a house.”

“A house?”

“Rent-to-own.”

Piper became suspicious.

“How many bedrooms?”

“Three.”

“Bathrooms?”

“Two.”

“Washer and dryer?”

Dena laughed.

“Yes, Piper.”

“Yard?”

“Big one.”

Piper looked around at her family.

A real house.

Not glamorous.

Not free.

Not magically theirs.

But attainable.

A few years earlier, Piper had imagined escape as moving into Lindo's apartment.

Then she'd imagined possibility arriving in Hawk's car.

Now she was standing in her mother's living room discussing how she could help her family afford a house.

Piper smiled.

“Let's do it.”

That night, after Piper showered, fed the cats and finally crawled into bed, her phone rang.

She looked at the screen.

ASPIS HAWKINS

Piper considered letting it ring.

Instead, she answered.

“Hey.”

Hawk sounded cheerful.

Suspiciously cheerful.

“Hey! I wanted to tell you something.”

Piper waited.

“You're a really great friend, Piper. A real one.”

“Oh.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“And guess what?”

Something in his tone made Piper sit up.

“I've decided I'm moving to your area.”

Her entire body went still.

“To expand the business,” Hawk continued. “I've been thinking about it, and it feels right.”

Piper's soul quietly left her body, floated toward the ceiling and began looking for an emergency exit.

“I think this is fate.”

“Oh.”

“We'd get to hang out all the time.”

Piper stared at the wall.

Three years ago, the suggestion would have thrilled her.

Two years ago, she might have rearranged her entire life around it.

Before San Antonio, she might at least have felt guilty saying no.

Tonight?

No.

“Right,” Piper said faintly. “Great.”

They ended the call.

Piper remained sitting on the bed.

Her new job.

Her degree.

The house.

Her family.

Her life was beginning to take shape.

And now Hawk planned to follow her into it because he'd apparently interpreted their disastrous weekend as fate.

Ditto curled against her knee.

Piper looked down at him.

“Absolutely not.”

The cat purred.

Piper picked up her phone.

For most of her life, she'd avoided difficult conversations until circumstances made the decision for her.

Not tonight.

She called Hawk back.

He answered immediately.

“Hey, I was just—”

“No.”

Silence.

“What?”

“No. Don't move here because of me.”

“Piper—”

“I'm serious. Whatever you think is happening between us, it isn't.”

“Okay, but—”

“We had something once. And I'll always appreciate what you did for me when we met.”

“Then—”

“But I don't like who I am around you now.”

That silenced him.

Piper continued.

“You think I'm boring because I don't want to get drunk. You hit on women in front of me and act like their dates are the problem. You talk about women like they're defective products. You called me mid.”

“Piper, I was drunk.”

“You were drunk for half the trip.”

“That isn't fair.”

“You cried into a napkin and announced to an entire restaurant that we're both losers.”

“I was going through something.”

“So was everyone in that restaurant by the time you finished.”

Silence.

Piper took a breath.

She didn't need to be cruel.

She only needed to be clear.

“And we're not both losers.”

Hawk said nothing.

“I got the job.”

“What?”

“The interview. I got it.”

Another silence.

“They're paying me a real salary. It's remote. They're helping pay for my bachelor's degree.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Piper looked toward the bedroom door.

Beyond it were her mother.

Her sister.

Children.

Two terrible cats.

A possible house.

Her life.

“Because you assumed I'd failed before you even asked.”

Hawk went quiet.

“And then you spent the rest of the trip explaining why my life isn't good enough.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You think caring about my family means I'm stuck.”

“I was trying to tell you that you deserve your own life.”

“This is my life.”

That was the simplest way Piper could say it.

“I love my family. They drive me crazy, but I love them. I want to help Sofie. I want to be around her kids. I want to live near my mom. I kept the cats because abandoning them would've been cruel. Those aren't failures, Hawk.”

“I didn't mean—”

“I know.”

And Piper did.

That was almost sadder.

“I think you assume everybody wants what you want.”

Hawk didn't answer.

“You can go anywhere because nothing holds you anywhere. You think that's freedom.

Maybe for you it is.”

She looked around her room.

“But I have people I want to come home to.”

The anger drained out of her.

What remained was certainty.

“I'm moving on.”

“Piper—”

“We're done. Don't move here for me. Build your business wherever you want. Have a good life. I mean that.”

He didn't answer immediately.

Piper almost softened.

Then she remembered the waitress.

The woman at the bar.

Mid chick.

We're both losers.

No.

“And for the record?”

“What?”

“You picked me up at a Stop 'N' Go.”

“What?”

“Not a gas station. A Stop 'N' Go. If you're going to insult the defining moment of our relationship, at least get the branding right.”

She hung up.

Then she blocked him.

Piper stared at the phone.

Her heart pounded.

Ditto looked unimpressed.

“Well?”

The cat began washing one paw.

“Thank you for your support.”

Piper lay back.

For years, she'd thought growing up meant finally becoming the sort of person who knew exactly what she was doing.

She understood now that this was unlikely to happen.

Growing up was getting fired.

Taking bad jobs.

Taking better jobs.

Getting certifications that didn't work out.

Choosing the wrong men.

Keeping cats you were allergic to.

Accumulating debt.

Helping your family.

Trying again.

Learning that somebody could have been wonderful to you once and still be wrong for you now.

And, occasionally, learning to say no before somebody else's bad idea became your

problem.

Piper smiled.

She had a corporate job.

A path to her degree.

A possible house.

Two terrible cats.

A family she actually wanted to be obligated to.

And absolutely no boyfriend.

For once, that last item felt less like a problem and more like an accomplishment.

She closed her eyes.

Tomorrow she'd tell Dena and Sofie everything about the job.

Tonight, she wanted to enjoy knowing that the future belonged to her before everybody she loved started making plans for it.