Page 77 of Love on Deck
“Next you’re going to tell me your dad is the town pastor and there was a period of time when no one was allowed to dance.”
“We’re not quite Footloose, but my brother did drive an old Volkswagen Beetle in high school.”
“Tell me it was yellow.”
“Blue.”
“So lame.”
“Hey, Lauren?”
“Yeah?” She tilted her head back to look at me, her gaze direct, and I forgot what I was going to say. Something about crushing her promotion and breaking my promise? Her lips were right there and so soft—I remembered them vividly—and the sky was clear and the stars were bright. I didn’t want my bad news to ruin this moment.
At this point, it wouldn’t matter if I waited until tomorrow, right? There wasn’t anything she could do about it right now, anyway. She had no way to get home to her computer tonight, which would probably only send her into a panic. I’d seen anxiety get the better of her once; I didn’t want to push her into that again. No, it was probably better to wait for the sake of her ability to get any sleep tonight. I would still tell her before we left Arcadia Creek.
“Thanks for coming with me.”
“Of course.” She settled back, but I kept watching her. “I saw one!” Lauren pointed up at the sky, a smile spreading broadly over her lips. “A shooting star!”
“Make a wish.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Hurry or the magic will leave.”
She rolled her eyes before closing them tightly. “Okay, done.”
“What did you wish for?”
She nudged me softly with her elbow. “I know enough about shooting stars to know I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Okay, fine.” I found her hand under the blanket and wrapped mine around it. She’d seemed to relax a lot over the duration of the cruise. The Lauren sitting beside me now wasn’t the same woman I’d approached in the airport before we went to Florida, manically checking spreadsheets and stuffing as much work as possible into the free minutes before boarding. It made me wonder why she was so married to her work if the separation from it only appeared to do her good. “Hey, what do you love about your job?”
“Planning.”
“Of course.”
“No, really. I love the planning and executing of events. I love problem solving and making someone happy with a wedding or retirement party or conference well done. It gives me a rush.”
“It sounds more like a recipe for being stressed all the time.”
She was quiet for a minute. “I am stressed most of the time, but only because I’ve worked so hard to prove I deserve this promotion. Jerry hasn’t put the time in to really earn it, but he’s a major contender. Until it’s well and truly mine, I don’t think I’ll be able to relax.”
My stomach flipped. “Kind of crazy to have your job influence your happiness so much.”
“And you’re so different?”
“No. I mean, my job is crazy stressful, too. I just don’t want my whole life to be centered around work anymore. I’ve done that for a few years now and I guess I’m over it.” The words were true, and as they left my mouth I realized how deeply I meant them. I wasn’t happy at MediCorp. I wasn’t happy promoting drugs and medical equipment at exorbitant prices people shouldn’t have to pay. I wanted my work to mean something. “I guess I just want to be more impactful, less rat-racey.”
“So... meditate more?” she suggested.
Not a terrible idea, but not what I was thinking. I shook my head. I couldn’t quit my job anyway. What would I do? How would I afford my apartment? I couldn’t. It wasn’t an option.
“Can we just pretend there’s no job to return to?” I asked.
“Only for tonight. My brain can’t shut off longer than that. It’s been in crisis mode since the car rolled, just knowing I was going to be separated from my computer even longer than expected.”
My stomach clenched. She was not going to be happy when I gave her the news. I shoved the thought away. “Well, maybe you need to meditate more, Lauren.”