CHapter 12

Amelia

The low hum of conversation wraps around me like a familiar shawl as I settle into a plush velvet booth at The Diamond for Friday night happy hour. I'm late, and the afternoon light is gone. The gas-lit streetlights filter in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden hue over Isla and Stella, who are already sipping cosmopolitans. I smile, signaling the server for a drink of my own.

"Can you believe it?" Stella huffs, her eyes rolling dramatically. "He insisted on eggs benedict from the most overpriced brunch place in town, and then—poof!—his wallet conveniently disappears."

I have to chuckle, even as I feel a pang of sympathy. "Sounds like a modern-day Cinderella story, except the prince leaves behind his credit card instead of a glass slipper."

"Exactly!" Stella groans, stirring her drink with a bit more force than necessary.

She has a knack for choosing men looking for a sugar momma.

"And what about you, Isla? How's the legal eagle?" I ask, turning to our ever-pragmatic friend.

"Postponed again." She sighs, tucking a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. "I'm starting to think ‘court' is code for ‘I have commitment issues.'"

"Third time's the charm?" I offer.

"Or third strike, you're out," Isla counters, her skepticism a shield that has saved her from heartache more than once.

"Maybe he's fighting for justice, day in, day out," Stella interjects. Her hope for a fairy tale hasn't completely vanished.

"Justice doesn't seem to respect my Friday nights," Isla retorts, but there's a small smile on her face now.

Stella points a finger. "You know what they say about lawyers. They're great at making arguments. Maybe he'll argue his way into your heart."

"Or object to every emotion I have." Isla arches an eyebrow.

"Objection noted, but the jury's still out," I chime in, feeling the warmth of friendship and fruity alcohol spread through my chest.

"Speaking of objections," Stella begins, but I shake my head.

This isn't the time to dive into my love life. I really like Kent, but I'm pretty sure we're only having fun when our schedules allow it. I need to remember that, even though I've somehow agreed to go to Hawaii with him. I'm still not sure how I'm going to explain that one to work.

"Let's not borrow trouble," I deflect, taking a generous sip of my drink.

"Here's to dodging bullets," Isla declares, raising her glass.

"And to catching bouquets," Stella adds with a wink.

"Or at least good stories," I conclude, our glasses meeting in toast.

As we sip and chat, I find myself wrapped up in the comforting rhythm of their voices. But it seems they've lulled me into complacency.

"Your turn, Amelia," Stella prompts with a sly grin. "Spill about last Saturday. Port Moody isn't just for sightseeing, is it?"

I let out a half-hearted chuckle, feeling the weight of their curiosity. "It was…nice," I start, tiptoeing around the truth. "We walked, had fantastic beer and great food…" I brush a stray hair behind my ear, my heart a fluttering captive behind my ribs.

"Charming can be dangerous," Isla says, her eyes narrowing. "Is he genuine or just another player?"

"Hard to tell," I admit, pausing to take a sip of my drink. "He's got this way of making you feel like you're the only person in the room. But he has a group of friends he spends a lot of time with. They ambushed us at breakfast Sunday morning." I force a smile, my insides a tangle of hope and hesitation.

"Friends?" Isla puts her coffee mug down. "Are they cute and single?"

Stella laughs.

Isla's brow furrows.

"They're cute and definitely single, but they're women."

"All of them?"

"Yep, four women—Phoebe, Danielle, Joanna, and Leah."

"What? Is he sleeping with them?"

"I didn't get that vibe from him, but they told me they've all dated him in the past, and he's for sure their handyman and chauffeur."

"Do you think it's some sort of distorted why choose kind of thing?" Stella asks.

I shake my head. "I don't think so. They added me to a group chat that they spend too much time talking to each other on. I don't pay attention. Can you imagine what Rose would do if she caught me texting all day at work? She's already unhinged."

"How do you feel about his harem of women then?" Isla says.

"I think it just reinforces my belief that it's safer not to get attached. He's been a great respite from the craziness at work, but I don't know how compatible we are longer term. We'll go to Hawaii in a little over a week—if I can swing that with work—and I'm sure we'll have a great time. But probably when we get back, he'll fade away. I just hope those women won't push for me to be part of their weird group of friends."

"I don't know if I believe men and women can be friends," Stella says.

My eyes pop wide. "Why not? I mean, friendship should be the basis of all relationships."

She just shrugs.

"When do we get to meet Kent?" Isla asks.

"Maybe after Hawaii."

"But you just said—" she begins.

"I know. He won't be around after Hawaii. Why get your hopes up, Isla? I'm not all love and roses."

"Good. Protect that heart, girl," Stella says, her tone more serious than usual.

"Well, sometimes the view from the edge is worth the risk," I reply, meeting her gaze. She nods, and we seal the sentiment with the clink of our glasses as we toast to the unknown. "Oh, and Rose got the official word today from the hospital about the account being in review. We're not participating in the first-round request for new proposals, which is good, but we will present our best ideas next month, not long after the wedding."

"How are she and Adam taking it?" Isla asks.

I sigh. "Not a lot differently than before—all hands on deck, plan on fifteen hour days seven days a week. They're like chickens with their heads cut off. I'm not sure what we're actually accomplishing. They're definitely not listening to me."

"You need a new job," Stella admonishes.

She's probably right, but I'm not ready to fully admit that and start looking.

We relax for a few minutes as The Diamond hums with the chatter of the crowd around us, but then Stella's eyes, sharp as the cut of her tailored blazer, fix on me across the table.

"So, Amelia, what's the game plan for Hawaii?" she asks. Her question is casual, but her gaze is anything but.

I take a sip of my drink, the cold liquid doing little to soothe the heat creeping up my neck. "Oh, you know…" I fumble for words like loose coins at the bottom of a purse. "It's mostly planned events. We fly out in ten days." I trace the condensation on my glass as if it could chart me a clearer course.

"I can't believe you agreed to go," Isla says.

I snort. "Me neither, but we're having fun hanging out. And he was persistent."

"Have you figured out what to wear to the wedding?" Isla asks.

"Sort of. I'm borrowing that dress from you, the one with the flowers?" I smile at her, grateful for the lifeline. "But that's as far as I've gotten."

"Let's get pedicures before you jet off. Make those beach feet pretty," Stella suggests.

"Definitely need that," I agree, laughing despite the flutter of unease in my stomach. "And I'm thinking of getting highlights done too. Might as well go all out, right?"

"Even with the job situation?" Stella's perfectly shaped eyebrow arches further.

"Especially with that." I lean back, assessing the risk like a gambler who's bet it all on a single hand. "A girl's got to maintain some standards, no matter what."

Stella nods slowly, setting her glass down with deliberate care. "You know, while we're on the subject of maintaining standards…" She pauses, seeming to choose her next words with precision. "You really should look for new opportunities, Amelia. You were due for a promotion long ago, and no matter what happens with the hospital account, staying put is only holding you back."

I feel a tug in my chest, a mix of appreciation and anxiety. Stella's not wrong. "I know," I say, keeping my voice steady. "It's just…hard to let go, you know?"

"Of course, it is," Stella agrees. "But sometimes, letting go is the only way to move forward. Don't let fear of the unknown keep you from what you deserve."

Her words echo inside me, mingling with the cocktail of emotions that has become my constant companion—excitement, hope, doubt. I reach for my glass again as I consider Stella's advice. It's time to think about the future—my future—with or without the safety net of my current job.

"All right." I exhale, feeling resolve settle over me like a new skin. "After Hawaii, I'll start looking. Promise."

"Good." Stella smiles, seeming satisfied. "Let's make sure this trip is one for the books. And don't forget, I always have temp work if you need it to tide you over."

"It's why I like you best," I tease.

"Hey!" Isla snarks. "You got a good discount on that phone of yours."

"And that's why I like you best." I grin. Stella and Isla are my forever friends and I'd be lost without them.

After one more round, we murmur our goodbyes outside The Diamond. The night feels crisp against my skin, and I wrap my jacket tighter around me.

"Take care, Amelia," Stella calls. "Remember what we talked about!"

I nod, throwing a small wave over my shoulder. "Will do!"

With my raincoat hood up and my Wellies on, the walk home is quiet, each step punctuating the rhythm of my thoughts. When I reach my apartment, I drop my keys in the bowl by the door and head straight for my laptop on the kitchen table.

"Let's see what's out there," I mutter, powering it up. The screen casts a blue glow across the room.

The job search page comes up, and rows upon rows of listings seem to blur together. Marketing Executive, Creative Director, Brand Strategist—titles dance before my eyes, but none of them stick. I click on one, then another, my heart sinking a little more with each description that doesn't quite fit or requires relocation to places I've never imagined myself.

"Experience a dynamic, fast-paced environment," I read aloud, trying to inject some enthusiasm into the words. "Isn't that just code for ‘we'll work you to the bone'?"

I lean back in my chair, sighing. A sense of restlessness grows within me, a gnawing reminder that I'm searching for something more than just a job title. What I want is to feel that spark again, the rush of creativity, the thrill of a challenge met and mastered.

"Come on, there has to be something." My fingers tap impatiently on the keyboard, revisiting filters and keywords as if they might reveal hidden opportunities I'd previously missed. But the truth stares back at me. The pickings are slim.

"Is this really it?" I whisper.

My gaze moves away from the screen, settling on the postcard of Hawaii pinned to my corkboard—a burst of tropical colors and the promise of an adventure. It's meant to be a vacation, a time to celebrate love and life, yet here I am, already worrying about what comes after.

"Maybe I'm not ready to let go," I admit to the empty room, my reflection in the darkened window offering no answers. "Or maybe I'm just scared."

I close my laptop with a decisive snap, pushing away from the desk. Enough for tonight. Maybe my work with Creative Seed isn't done. Maybe my best chance at getting back to a job I love is to make sure we keep the Mercy account. Maybe Hawaii will be useful for that? I guess that's how I'll have to spin it.

"First, Hawaii," I tell my reflection, attempting a smile. "Then… Well, then we'll figure it out. And if we don't keep the Mercy Hospital account, the decision about finding a new job will be made for me."

I head to bed, the unease still coiled quietly within me, but there's also a glimmer of hope, stubborn and persistent. Maybe that's all I need right now, just a spark to light my way through the unknown.