I blink, momentarily speechless. "Paris?"
A year ago, this would have been everything I wanted. The validation, the prestige and the chance to prove myself on an international stage. The kind of opportunity that would have had me packing my bags before she finished the sentence.
"Think of it as a reset," she continues, warming to her pitch. "Get your name back out there. Rebuild your momentum.”
Six months.
Six months away from this porch, this bed, this life I didn't plan but suddenly can't imagine living without.
My hand tightens around the phone. "When?"
"Plane leaves Wednesday."
I glance at the calendar hanging by the door. That's five days from now.
"I'll send the contract," she adds, her tone suggesting this is a foregone conclusion. "But don't take too long to decide. Opportunities like this don't come around twice."
I hang up without committing, my hands shaking slightly as I set the phone on the small table beside my chair.
The silence that follows feels deafening.
Evan looks up from his work, some sixth sense telling him something's shifted. His eyes find mine across the yard, and I see the exact moment he registers my expression.
"Everything okay?" he calls, setting down his hammer.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice, and he's across the yard in seconds, settling beside me on the swing we built together last spring.
"What happened?"
"I got a call," I say, forcing the words out. "Old job. Big opportunity. Paris."
He goes very still beside me, and I can feel the tension radiating from his body.
"Paris," he repeats carefully.
"Six months. High-profile assignment. The kind of thing I used to think I wanted more than anything."
We sit in silence for a moment, and I can practically hear him thinking, processing, trying to figure out what this means for us.
"You thinking about going?" he asks finally.
The question hangs between us, loaded with a year's worth of shared mornings and whispered conversations and the life we've built together in this place that used to be his sanctuary and is now our home.
"A year ago, I wouldn't have hesitated," I say honestly. "I would have been on that plane before she finished explaining the assignment."
"And now?"
I turn to face him fully, taking in the face I've memorized in a dozen different kinds of light..
"Now I know the difference between what I thought I wanted and what actually makes me happy."
Relief flickers across his features, but he doesn't let it settle.
"I told you I love you," he tells me. "But I'm not going to stand in your way if this is what you want. If this is the life you're supposed to have. I’ll wait for you Cass, if you want to chase your dreams."
"That's just it," I whisper, reaching for his hand. "Everything I thought I needed feels... different now. I thought success meant proving myself to people who never really saw me. I thought happiness meant collecting accomplishments like trophies."
His thumb traces circles on my palm, patient and steady as always.
