Page 94 of Crash and Burn
"You said something about being a paralegal?" he asked curiously. "I remember that's what your mom does, right?"
"She's been insisting I follow in her footsteps," I said. "Go back to school, get a 'good job', as she puts it," I said with air quotes and a snort. "My dad's an accountant so both of them are the professional type. My mom humored me when I first started working at a bar, probably because she didn't think it would last long. But she's been on my case about it for years and lately she's been insisting I go do something else."
"Is that what you want?" Mason asked.
"I don't know what I want," I said. "I just know that seeing Grant every day is tearing me apart."
Jessie and Mason both gave me sad, sympathetic looks. Mason put a hand on my back.
"I'll help you with whatever you choose to do," he said. "If you feel like you need to leave I won't hold it against you. It'll be hard to find someone to replace you, though." He gave me a wink. "No one else can memorize drink orders like you can, and you know all our regulars by name at this point. Those are big shoes to fill."
"I don't want to go." A pinprick of tears stung the back of my eyes. "But I think it might be the best thing for me to do."
I took in a shuddering breath, then steeled my back.
"I'm going to have to leave Sin and Tonic."
30
My decision was heart-wrenching, but as I sat at home flipping through one of Janice's brochures I tried to convince myself it was the best for everyone. My mom would be over the moon, Grant wouldn't be looking at me with those guilty, sorrowful eyes every day, and I—
I'd be able to move on and put all of this behind me.
I eyed the rest of the brochures on my coffee table. They all had photos of happy, smiling students on campus and poised ladies wearing respectable business attire holding law books in their hands.
Was that my future? Was that what I had to look forward to?
I supposed it wasn't the worst thing in the world. I'd have a cushy office job with a steady paycheck. Maybe I'd even get to work on interesting projects, like criminal cases to put away serial killers. That did appeal to my fascination with true crime.
But it was much more likely I'd spend my days filing paperwork for divorces and proofreading wills.
I tossed the brochure I'd been browsing onto the pile with all the rest. Nothing about this plan appealed to me, but it wasn't like I had any other ideas. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I'd taken that gap year to find out my true calling but I never had. Once I'd found work at the bar I'd been more than happy to continue on with it. Sure, working next to Grant was one reason I'd stayed, but I really did enjoy it.
The only other thing I enjoyed was...
I glanced over to my sewing desk. My heart sunk.
I hadn't sat down in front of my sewing machine since the day I'd learned Carling had screwed me over. Every time I thought about going back to it my anger and humiliation stopped me.
I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid. I'd let him take advantage of me, and what was worse was that it was my own fault. I should have insisted on seeing a contract earlier. I should have been more careful about signing the one he had eventually given me.
I trusted that Carling had my best interests in mind.
I'd been wrong.
"Mew?"
Mittens lifted her head from where she'd been resting on a pile of fabric. She'd blended in so well I hadn't noticed she was there.
I heaved myself up from the sofa and went over to pick her up, cuddling her to my chest. She may have been the devil incarnate but she was also a warm, fuzzy and calming presence. I supposed it was true when people say owning a pet helped lower blood pressure. I could already feel my anger bleeding out of me.
"I guess it doesn't matter if you get my fabric all full of your hair," I told her. "I'm not using it anyway."
Mittens opened her jaw wide and chomped down on my hand.
"Ow!" I flinched back and Mittens squirmed out of my grip to jump gracefully back down on the sewing desk.
"You're evil," I accused.
