“Yeah.” She sighs. “At first I thought the family was giving me a tour of their town because they’re super sentimental. But it turns out Justin’s dad wants to hand over the family business to him.”
“Oh wow. That’s amazing.” I pause when Nikki doesn’t react. “Or not. Do we hate this idea? I’m not following.”
“The family business is a farm in the middle of nowhere, Amelia.” She picks up the bottle of wine and pours us a generous amount. “And the kicker is that Justin wants to take him up on his offer, and wants me to move down there with him. To the farm.” She tips her head back and clears half of her glass in one swoop.
Yikes. Trouble in paradise. I’ll have to table my weird flowers conversation for a later time.
We spend the rest of the day going over pros and cons of what Justin’s decision might mean for Nikki, but it’s all in vain. I don’t want her to leave New York any more than she wants to. We discuss long distance, remote work and keep coming up short, but unwilling to put into words what we may believe may happen.
“Amelia, this is so weird. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of my life. Like this decision that I make might be the big one that I either regret for the rest of my life, or thank my lucky stars for making. I love Justin. I really do. But is love really enough? Will I really turn into one of those women who has a small town romance and ends up loving small town living, wears cut off shorts and cowboy boots?”
I slowly take the empty wine bottle from her death grip and put it on the coffee table.
We stare at each other for a few beats, then burst out laughing.
“Look. The way I see it, Justin still hasn’t made his decision. Give him some time to think about it before you make any rash decisions. Just like you have to think about the possibility of moving out of state for love, Justin needs to think about the possibility of staying for love. Only fair in my eyes.” I take a sip of my wine only to see that my glass is also empty.
We both erupt with laughter again. We are clearly the blind leading the blind.
“Want to order pizza and talk about how Evan Cooper has ruined every other man for me for as long as I live?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
And that is why no matter what happens with Evan, Nikki will always be my soulmate.
* * *
It’s Friday evening and I am dragging myself to get ready for my company holiday party. I would usually jump at the idea of an open bar and an excuse to dress up, but for obvious reasons I know tonight is going to be a shit show.
I’ve been able to avoid Christine like the plague ever since I caught her riding Sebastián into oblivion. I used vacation days for the days I knew we would be at the same in-person meetings, and have picked meeting rooms on floors that belong to different departments. I know I have nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything,sheshould be the one trying to avoidme. But I never want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me off my game. Or catch me on a bad day when my emotions may be running high.
Tonight is the night that we are all forced to mingle and play nice. I could have easily feigned illness, but Marcos Mirabal will be there tonight, and he is the lead partner on the Miami account I am trying to get on. I’m hoping that if I get on his good side, it will make the possibility of landing the account much easier, and therefore securing my transfer to Miami. Being a Latina woman in corporate America is tough, but it’s even tougher when I feel like I’m sometimes only brought onto projects to fill up some ‘diversity’ quota. New York is obviously one of the most culturally diverse places on the planet, but the Wall Street mentality still bleeds into my finance world, meaning it’s usually the older white guy leading all the important accounts.
In Miami, I remember interning at a company where the Partner ordered Cuban ‘cortadito’ coffees for all staff meetings, along with an eclectic variety of Hispanic baked goods. Everyone would greet each other with a “Buenos Dias” and cheek kisses. If I ever said “Good Morning” to someone on the elevator here in New York, I would be ignored or looked at as if I’d grown an extra head. And the cheek kiss would guarantee an HR nightmare.
I’m still trying to figure out if Miami will be the solution to my cultural identity crisis. You know, the one where I constantly feel like I’m not Latina enough, because I was born in the states instead of the island. While also not being gringa enough because one look at me, and you can see the lineage of my ancestors in my eyes, hair and hips.
I’ve gone through this plan a million times in my head, but tonight a flash of guilt shoots right through me.
What about Evan?
I had this plan in motion well before my mother got sick. I put it off after we got her diagnosis, and while in the depths of my grief, started the process up again after her death. When Sebastián and I got back together, it was off again, only to be promptly started back up a few months ago when we broke up again. I know I need to stick to the plan and stop having my relationships interfere with my career goals.
Plus, Evan literally has a jet. The man can fly down to see me whenever he pleases.
Although I have yet to see him this week. Since dropping me off at my apartment, we have both been busy with sixteen hour days. I was supposed to have dinner at his apartment last night, but fell asleep in my towel, sitting on my bed after my shower.
Evan is working at least until midnight tonight since he does business with people around the world. Meaning his nine to five is really a twenty four seven. We have promised to make Saturday work. I will meet him at his apartment in the morning and we will spend a full day and night wrapped in each other's arms.
It’s insane how badly I miss him. I didn’t know you could actually ache for a person. Physically ache! I never had that with anyone before, and it’s blowing my mind. Thank God he video calls me about ten times a day. I’m pretty sure he does it in front of his board members too which is quite cringe, but I take whatever I can get.
I give myself one final glance in the mirror. Typical corporate holiday party attire, red cocktail dress that hits me right below the knee. It was supposed to look a bit more conservative, but I got my period earlier in the week and my boobs look like they’re about to pop out of the v neckline and my hips are stretching the material a bit more than I would like, but there’s no turning back now. I put on my trusty old black pumps, the ones I know won’t give me blisters by the end of the night, and make my way to my front door. I grab my wool peacoat and purse and take a deep breath.
Let’s get this shit over with.
30
Evan
