Page 64 of Chosen
“Good to hear. And congrats again on the article. I can’t wait to see what we come up with next!” It was the last thing Anthony said before he ended the call with a click.
And I sunk into the couch, my eyes staring up at the ceiling, a familiar anxiety flooding through my system.
* * *
“Are you okay?” Damon’s voice floated over to me on the couch, as he stood in front of me.
I quickly brought my head down as I looked over at him, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
“I just… I woke up and you weren’t there,” he continued. “I was on my way to take a shower, but I was worried—”
“My article got published this morning.”
“Really?” Damon’s face brightened. “That’s good news, right? How’d it do?”
“It did amazing,” I replied, completely monotone. “It’s the most traffic the site’s gotten all year and it’s all thanks to me.”
“Then… why don’t you sound more excited about it?” Damon quirked an eyebrow. “Because right now, you sound like Anthony just fired you or something.”
“Worse. He offered me a promotion.” I faked a smile. “The opportunity to do a weekly interview series, asking the kind of questions I want, doing whatever I want, really.”
“Sam! That’s amazing!” Damon’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he took a seat beside me on the couch. “That’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? The chance to do more in-depth interviews? Do things your way?”
“I’d have to be full-time in the Atlanta office, if I took it,” I murmured. “No room for discussion.”
“Full-time in the Atlanta office?” Damon’s expression suddenly fell. “Shit.”
“Shit.” I nodded in agreement. “I can have everything I ever wanted in my career as long as I’m willing to—”
“Never see me again?”
“More like walk away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I corrected. “And I… I can’t just… Damon, I don’t know what to…”
As I spoke, tears sprang behind my eyes, threatening to spill down my face. Damon’s arms wrapped around me then, tight and strong, like he was holding me together with just his embrace.
“Don’t worry about that right now, okay? We’ll figure it out.”
“But Damon, what if we don’t—”
“We will.” Damon pulled me away from him, just enough for me to see the smile on his face. “We’ll figure something out, Sam. I’m not just going to let you walk out of my life.”
“What if you have to?”
“There’s always a way,” Damon assured me. He then gently grabbed me by the hand as he slowly rose up from the couch, taking me with him. “Now, how about I make us some breakfast?”
“I already made us breakfast. And coffee,” I replied, while wiping a tear away from my eye. “But it’s all probably cold by now. Shit.”
“That’s the beauty of modern technology,” Damon started, with a small laugh. “We can always warm things up in the microwave.”
I let out a small laugh, matching Damon’s energy as he began to head toward the kitchen with me in tow. Determined to put all my anxiety behind me, I squeezed his palm as we walked, eager to eat breakfast with him and postpone the very difficult conversation we may have needed to have sooner rather than later—
But just as Damon and I reached the kitchen, we heard someone knocking at the front door.
“Shit. That must be Parker.” Damon sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry about this, Sam. But I need to go get ready. Can we do a raincheck for breakfast?”
“Sure thing.” I nodded, even as a lump formed in my throat. The lump only seemed to get larger as I watched Damon head back down the hall, away from me, away from the now cold breakfast I’d made for the both of us.
I turned my attention toward the near freezing bacon and eggs, getting colder with every passing minute.