Page 66 of Swift and Saddled

It was Friday. I told Evan I needed to catch up on content, emails, and some admin work this morning, and he was happy to handle everything at the job site for the day.Baby Blue,I thought. I couldn’t believe Wes had been sitting on that for months—maybe even years.

It just fit the house. I loved it.

I was sitting at the kitchen table at the Big House with my phone, laptop, and iPad, firing on all cylinders. So far, I’d caught up on stories for the past week and edited three videos to post. I’d also edited a few photos and written some captions. Honestly, I hadn’t captured as much as I normally did, but luckily, Evan had beenworking with me long enough that he had known to snap some photos and film some videos that I could use.

It was coming easily right now. That’s what happened when I was in the middle of a project. Content got so much easier because my creativity was flowing freely. I felt like I couldn’t be stopped.

When I didn’t have a project, content was tedious—a chore that I loathed—so I made sure to soak in how I was feeling about it right now.

It was also a great way for me to avoid looking at my email inbox. The way I saw it, I was still working, still being productive, so it didn’t count as procrastination.

Sound logic, in my opinion.

It took me another two hours to set up enough content for the next two weeks, but once it was done, I felt lighter than I had this morning. That was the good news.

The bad news was that now that it was done, I didn’t have an excuse to neglect my email. I looked at the clock on the oven. It was just past ten. I poured myself another cup of coffee, took a deep breath, and opened my email on my laptop.

I had a few from Evan, who just forwarded expenses or other information. Easy—I sorted those into their proper folder. There were a lot from brands who were interested in my using their products in the homes I designed, which was exciting, but then I saw an email with the subject “Job Inquiry—Tucson, Arizona.” I opened it tentatively.

Hi Ada,

My name is Irie Fox, and I’m writing to you from sunny Tucson, Arizona. First, I want to say that I’m a huge fan of your work! I’ve been following your Instagram since the beginning, and it’s been so cool to watch you evolve. I am especially impressed with the scope of the project you’ve recently taken on at Rebel Blue Ranch in Wyoming. I’ve never been to Wyoming, but following along with your reno has made me feel like that’s a mistake I need to remedy immediately.

Anyway, long story short, I’ve recently come into ownership of a small bed-and-breakfast. It’s got charm and good bones. I really believe it could be something great, but I need someone to help me get there. I think you would be a perfect fit!

Are you open to jobs right now? I’m hoping to get started at the beginning of August. If you are interested, please let me know a good time for us to set up a call.

Warmly,

Irie

This email should’ve made me happy. It was the exact result I was hoping for when I took the job at Rebel Blue.

So why did I feel like someone had just doused me with a bucket of ice water?

I closed my laptop immediately. I didn’t want to deal with that right now. I still had a few weeks left at Rebel Blue. A few weeks left to figure out what was next.

A few weeks left with Wes.

That thought turned my heart into broken glass, and theshards started poking at my chest.Don’t think about it, Ada. Don’t think about what it’s going to feel like to leave him.

God, I was so stupid.

I drew a line with him when I got here. I had a plan. I had dreams, and I didn’t want to derail them for anyone. Wes respected that, he gave me my space, he didn’t try to make a move until I stepped up to the line.

And now that line was obliterated. The boundary was crossed, and we couldn’t take it back. And I didn’t want to.

I had no idea where that left me or my dreams when this was all over.

Fuck, I needed some fresh air. I slid on some beat-up boots that were sitting by the back door. They fit me, so they had to be an old pair of Emmy’s. I walked out the back door of the Big House, which I’d done only a few times before, and started walking the path that led from the back porch.

My head was spinning, and I kept walking, with no idea of where I was going, but I couldn’t be still right now. Being still would make me feel stuck, and feeling stuck was something I never wanted to feel again.

I came to a fork in the path. I looked down the path to the right and saw a small cabin at the end, so I took the one to the left.

As I walked, my head started to feel fuller and fuller and I felt off-balance. I had to stop. I squatted, wrapped my arms around my knees, and tucked my head between them.

I stayed like that until I heard a voice.

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