16. Izzy

CHAPTER 16

IZZY

" W e've been looking for someone exactly like you." Donna Fergus leaned over her desk. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but creativity is dying . We've had that ad up two months now, and I tell you, it's dismal. We've had a stack of portfolios as high as my head, and yours was the only one that made me look twice. The rest were so safe, so, so, so… beige . It was like my mother-in-law's living room threw up on my desk."

I chuckled at that. This was going amazing . "So, what you're saying is, you want someone creative."

"Exactly," said Donna. "But not just creative. Someone with chops, who brings the whole package. I was impressed with your plans for those new Rio condos. Is that really what they're going with?"

I swallowed a sigh. "Not exactly. Some elements made it, the atrium, the gardens, but the overall design will be much more, uh…"

"Boring?"

I couldn't badmouth my current employer. That was a bad look at a job interview — especially since this firm was also based in Albuquerque. But I smiled back at Donna. "Streamlined," I said. "We're going with a sleek look, with brutalist accents."

"So, boring." Donna winked. "I know you can't say that. But, listen, I'd be thrilled to have you on board. I'll need to talk to my partners and see how they feel, but as far as I'm concerned, you're our first pick. If we were to hire you, when could you start?"

"Two months," I said. "To work out my notice."

"Excellent," said Donna. "You'll hear from us soon."

I walked out of my interview on a dizzying high: my very first one, and it had gone great. I could picture myself working with Donna, in her modern office downtown, with her young, hungry team. A job in New York might've been an adventure, but moving cross-country was always a pain. And then there was Spencer.

I stopped walking.

"Damn it," I muttered, under my breath. A small dog looked up at me, then looked away. The WALK sign was lit up across the street, but I didn't cross. I turned downtown instead, pausing to text Jim I'd be working from home.

That's fine, he wrote. By the way, Rio's coming tomorrow. Meeting's at ten if you want to sit in.

He thought he was being generous. I felt my lip curl. Still, I wrote back to say I'd see him there. Then I stowed my phone, and I kept walking.

I didn't head for my car, or out for lunch. Instead, I went by the planned Rio site, down past the shops where the buildings got older. I'd seen one in particular with a little walled garden, quiet and shady, set back from the street. It had a sign in its rental office, CLEAN SUITES FOR RENT – NO PETS – NO SMOKING. I peered in the window, then knocked on the door. Footsteps came creaking, and it cracked open. A woman squinted out at me over the chain.

"You looking to rent?"

I nodded. "Got any one-bedrooms?"

She shut the door in my face and I heard the chain rattle. Moments later, it opened again.

"We have one-beds, two-beds, and studio suites. There's a penthouse as well, but is this for just you?"

I smiled to cover a sudden, sharp grimace. Just me sounded lonely. It made my heart twinge. "Just me," I agreed.

"Too bad, because that penthouse has the best views, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, huge picture windows. And the previous tenant loved the roof garden. She's left it real green, but that's too big for you, right?"

"Yeah, that's too big. One bedroom'll do it."

"Give me a minute. I'll just grab my keys." She ducked back into her office and popped out with her keys. "I'm Leila, by the way. You okay with the ground floor?"

"I'd prefer something higher, but if that's all you've got…"

"This way." She took me the long way, through the walled garden, taking her time to point out the spring flowers. We rode up to the fifth floor in a cramped elevator, and she hustled me down an airy breezeway.

"I need to warn you with this one, the last tenant just left. We haven't repainted and the carpets need to be cleaned. I think they had a cat in there. You know it's no pets?"

"I don't have any pets."

Leila was already hunting through her keys. She tried one, then another one, and the door swung open. My first impression was of bright, warm light, sun streaming in through a long window-wall. When the dazzle wore off, I saw the windows were doors, leading out to a balcony overlooking the garden.

"No bird feeders," said Leila. "Too much noise and mess."

I nodded, barely hearing, my head in a whirl. I could see myself living here, calling this home. My couch would look great along the far wall, my TV across from it, my desk in the corner. I could hang up my suncatchers now I'd have space, a whole home to myself, not just one room.

"Here's the kitchen," said Leila, skirting around me. "The fridge is apartment-sized, and some people don't like that. But look at that counter space. You can really cook here. A lot of kitchens this size, there's barely room for your microwave."

"I, uh…" I coughed. I'd been about to admit I had no microwave. Spencer had one, or maybe Leon, but I'd never needed to buy one myself. No toaster, either. No pots or pans. Even the silverware was Leon's.

"Big cabinets, too. See, they're real deep. And we'll repaint all of those, have them brand sparkling new."

"It's nice," I said. "Is the bedroom through here?" I headed in without waiting for a response, and checked out the closet, the shaded windows. That lonely feeling was back in my chest, heavy as lead weights under my ribs. Living alone, had I ever done that? I'd gone from my folks' place to the dorms in college, then moved out my second year to share a house with Leon. After graduation, I'd moved back with my folks, then a series of roommates, then Spencer had called. He was back in town. He'd bought a huge house. It felt weird with just him in it, so did I want to move in?

"You like it?" asked Leila.

I cleared my throat. I glanced back at the kitchen. How strange would it feel making breakfast in there, not tripping over Leon and Spencer? Not stealing bacon off of their plates? Not stealing kisses when Leon was out?

My heart leaped, then plunged, at the thought of Spencer. He made my heart race, but that was the problem. Hearing Leon last night, and Lola at the café, two things had come clear to me, clear as day. First, my feelings for Spencer had crossed a line. I wanted more than hookups and stolen kisses, which brought me to the second thing: Spencer didn't. He'd gone so stiff last night when Leon got going, like the very word "love" set his nerves jangling. And the way he'd looked at me, all deer-in-the-headlights, like he thought any minute I'd declare my devotion — it was insulting, was what it was. Like my love was some scary thing? Some fate worse than death?

"I like it," I said.

"But you're not sure," said Leila. "Okay, why don't you fill out an application? I'll run a credit check and see where we stand. That way, if you pass, you're first on my list. If you decide you want it, it's yours. Otherwise, someone else could swoop in while you're thinking."

I nodded. "All right. Let's do that."

Ten minutes later, I was back on the street, dazed and bewildered but feeling okay. Wasn't this what I'd wanted, a fresh start? A new, more mature station in life? This move would give me that, a place of my own. A new job would give me potential to grow. Distance from Spencer would free me up from distractions, so I could focus on my new life.

This was good. It was great. On-paper awesome .

"Distance," I whispered, and my phone chirped.

I fished it out of my pocket expecting a text from Spencer, but what popped up instead was an email alert. An email from Lehman and Anderson, New York. My screen went dark before I could tap it, but I'd already caught the key phrases: got your application. Intrigued by your work. Love to set up a Zoom call.

I stood frozen, not breathing, my head full of static. People streamed all around me, hurrying by. If I'd been the superstitious type, I'd have taken this for a sign. I'd said distance , and boom. Like I'd cast a spell.

"You gonna stand there all day? People need to get by here." A man jostled up on me and I shuffled aside. I pulled up the email and read it again. This was my dream job, so why wasn't I cheering? Why wasn't I on my phone screaming to Lola? I should've been thrilled, but what I felt was confusion. Confusion, disappointment, a sharp sense of loss.

I let out a harsh breath, a frustrated huff. What I needed was closure, for Spencer to say it. For him to tell me we had no future together. Then I could move on with no regrets, knowing I had left nothing unsaid.

I jammed my phone in my pocket and strode back up the street. That's what I'd do tonight — I'd talk to Spencer. Tomorrow, I'd start the next phase of my life.