Page 97 of Kiss the Girl
“Right after New Year’s. But she’s not telling her parents until after Christmas because she wants them to have a stress-free holiday.”
“That’s sweet. So where are you moving?”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Nowhere.”
“That can’t be right. Where is Grace going?”
“Charleston. Boeing.”
She whipped out her phone. “That’s only a seven-hour drive. Not bad. And I hear Charleston is a cool town.”
I shrugged.
“You’ll like living there,” she pressed.
“Paige. I’m not moving there.”
“Sure, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Why not?” The words sprang out of her, sharp, like she’d snapped a trap closed.
“My life is here.”
“Define ‘life.’ It needs to include the name of the woman you’ve fallen head-over-heels for or it’s an invalid answer.” I said nothing. “That’s what I thought. So you’re moving to Charleston.”
I was getting tired of this loop. “Paige.”
“Why. Not.” It came out as a challenge, not a question.
“Areyoumoving to Charleston?” I asked.
“No.”
I shrugged. She had her answer.
She grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to the couch, pushing me until I sat down. Then she sat on the coffee table facing me. “Noah, listen to me. You are the best brother in the world. It’s not even close. But Evie and I aren’t your responsibility.”
I didn’t argue because it would only insult her, but the fact remained: they were. She hadn’t seen herself the day she showed up at my door, so skinny I barely recognized her, her belly already showing Evie, dark circles under her eyes. There was no one else to be responsible for her. And I hadn’t regretted opening the door wide and taking her in for a single second.
She grabbed my shoulders and made me meet her eyes. “Evie and I aremyresponsibility. I can’t even begin to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and I’ll definitely never be able to repay it.”
I waved my hand, a sharp, impatient movement. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do. Saving me wasn’t your job, and you did it anyway. But Noah…” She paused for a deep breath and sat back. “You’re fired.”
Fired? “What does that even mean?”
“It means I’m not your job. But I’m here to offer you an early Christmas gift in the form of an amazing severance package.”
This was only getting more confusing. “What are you talking about?”
“If you knew that Evie and I would be fine without you—thriving and happy—and that we’d come see you once a quarter plus however often you wanted to come back here, would you feel okay about moving to Charleston?”
I started to answer, but she held up her hand. “No. Don’t speak.Reallythink about that. Visualize it. Evie and I, stable, well-adjusted, doing well. And while you think about it, I’m going to grab your present. Be right back.”
She darted out of the apartment, and I sat back against the sofa, trying to process the conversation. It was hard to imagine her in a secure enough position to ever be okay with leaving, but I tried. I tried to picture it.
