Page 76 of Worth the Wait

In the elevator, safely alone, I turn to her. "What's wrong? This is everything you've worked for."

"It's not me I'm worried about. It's you."

"Me?" I frown in confusion. "What about me?"

"The New York position. It's perfect for you," she says, voice softening. “International focus, leadership role, building something from the foundation up—it's everything you excel at."

"But?" I prompt, sensing the unspoken reservation.

She takes a deep breath. "I'm worried you'll decline it because of me. That you'll limit your career potential to stay inChicago." Her eyes meet mine. "I don't want to be the reason you compromise your future—not again."

Understanding dawns, sharp and poignant. She's thinking of my decision eight years ago—choosing my father's business over joining her at Northwestern. The sacrifice that ultimately tore us apart.

"Tarryn," I say softly, cupping her face between my palms. "That was different. I was nineteen, torn between family obligation and personal dreams. We're adults now, making choices with full awareness of what really matters."

Her hands come up to wrap around my wrists, not pulling away but holding on. "And what really matters to you?"

"You," I answer without hesitation. "Us. I don't want to lose you again, not when we've just found our way back to each other."

"I don't want to lose you either. But I also don't want you sacrificing professional advancement for personal reasons. Not after how hard you've worked to get here."

The elevator doors open and we step out into the empty lobby, continuing our conversation.

"There's something else you should know," I say, ushering her into a coffee shop. “I’ve established a medical trust for my father."

Her eyebrows rise in surprise. "A medical trust?"

"Using most of my savings. The specialized procedure his doctor recommended isn't fully covered by insurance, but with the signing bonus from the New York position, I can fund the trust completely. He'll have access to any treatment he needs."

Her hand reaches across the table to cover mine. "Jackson, that's wonderful. And all the more reason you should take the New York position without hesitation."

"But what about us?" I ask directly. "Long-distance relationships don't exactly have a stellar success rate. Especially not for us, historically speaking."

Pain flashes briefly in her eyes, acknowledgment of our previous failure. "We're different people now," she says softly. "Older, hopefully wiser. With better communication skills and more established priorities."

"All true," I agree. "But still challenging. Still a risk."

"When did you become the cautious one?" she teases gently, though the question holds genuine curiosity.

I laugh softly. "Maybe you've rubbed off on me over the years."

Her eyes suddenly glisten. “My father's health has been concerning too," she confesses, voice catching. "The junior counsel position would help with his medical expenses. That's partly why I wanted it so badly."

The revelation hits me with surprising force, how similar our motivations are, how both of us are striving to support the parents who sacrificed for us. I move around the table to sit beside her, pulling her into my arms without concern for public setting.

"We'll make it work," I promise against her hair, feeling her body melt against mine. "Whatever it takes. Both our fathers getting the care they need, both our careers advancing. Us, together. All of it."

Chapter 19

Tarryn

I've been staring at the same paragraph for twenty minutes, the legal jargon blurring into meaningless symbols while my mind drifts elsewhere.

To New York. To Chicago. To Jackson. To the impossible geography of our newly rekindled love.

It's been a week since Miguel called us both into his office, since everything changed again. Junior counsel for me. Division lead with eventual relocation to New York for Jackson. Two perfect opportunities wrapped in the most imperfect timing.

I trace the delicate gold chain around my neck, fingers finding the familiar daisy pendant that's been my constant companion for nine years. Even when I convinced myself I was over him, I kept this part of him against my skin.

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