Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I squeal, my auburn ponytail swishing along the top of my back. “You’re freaking kidding me! This is incredible.”
“Thank you.” She shimmies in her seat with excitement. “I’m over the moon about it. Because it’s just a pilot, we’re only shooting with one couple and have a low budget. We start filming next week, which is why I’ve been so slammed lately.”
“Sutton, I am so, so proud of you.”
I lift my glass to hers and tap them together.
My heart swells with delight. It’s incredible to share this moment with my friend and to witness the well-earned pride color her cheeks. She doesn’t often pause to revel in her achievements, choosing instead to root for those around her. So I sit back and give her space to toot her own horn.
“I’m pretty proud of myself, to be honest,” she says. “I put my heart and soul into this concept, and seeing it come to fruition—knowing others with much more experience than me believe in it, too—it’s so satisfying.” She spears a ravioli with her fork and drags it through a dish of marinara. “It’s also going to be satisfying when I tell Jeremiah’s parents, and they realize I am an asset to their family, not just a silly gold digger like they think.”
My smile fades. “Do this for you. Not them. You have nothing to prove to those people.”
She raises her glass and clinks it to mine again. “Amen.”
“Just remember when you’re a famous producer that I was the one who supported you when you were a nobody.”
“Thanks, I think,” she says, laughing. “Now, what about you? Have any of your interviews panned out?”
I down the rest of my martini before flopping back in my chair.
I didn’t expect to be job hunting for this long when I got laid off two months ago. I have a bachelor’s degree in communications with a minor in journalism. My résumé is solid, and I have great contacts in the broadcasting industry. My references are stellar, too. I’ve sat for numerous interviews and applied for various positions, everything from a news writer to a weatherwoman—the latter out of desperation. I’m pretty sure it just entails reading the weather report. And, if not, I can guess when it will rain as well as anyone.
The response? Crickets.
It’s disconcerting.
“I had an interview yesterday at a music label,” I say. “And I met a podcaster this morning for coffee. Both went great, but I doubt I’ll get a call back from either.”
“What makes you say that?”
I shrug. “Gut feeling.”
“Okay. Hear me out.”
I groan.
“I have an idea,” she says.
“That scares me.”
“As it should.” Her eyes dance with humor. “Remember when I took a weekend alone in Utah last year?”
I nod slowly. I’m unsure where this is going, but I know it will give me a headache.
“Well, I spent most of that weekend setting intentions for my life. I dreamed big. Created vision boards. I took a deep dive into who I am as a person and who I wanted to be. Where did I see myself in my personal life? Professionally? Emotionally? Spiritually?”
“Are those rhetorical questions?” I ask, grinning.
“Tease me all you want because all my intentions came true.”
She sits back, crossing her arms over her chest with a smug smile.
“And I’m thrilled for you,” I say, noticing an incoming text from my mom. “But it unnerves me to place my hopes and dreams into the hands of … does the universe have hands?”
Sutton’s annoyance at my failure to take her woo-woo seriously is written all over her pretty face.
“I love that it worked for you,” I say. “But I’m more confident in using actionable items than vision boards and weekend retreats.”
“Fair enough. But where have those actionable items gotten you lately?”
I gasp. “The audacity.” Knowing I can’t pretend she’s wrong, I sigh. “Also, good point.”
“Thank you. Now, humor me. What are your biggest dreams? What would you hope to find if you could see three years into the future?”
“That’s easy. Employment. Cheap wine. And a new wardrobe to fit the body I earned by actually working out five times a week instead of sitting in the gym parking lot and warring over whether to go inside or leave to get chicken nuggets.”
She narrows her eyes, shaking her head. The server, Bobby, momentarily interrupts her scowl by delivering another round of martinis. Sutton mumbles something that makes him laugh.
The alcohol warms my blood and loosens the muscles across the back of my neck. It’s a nice respite from the stress I’ve been holding on to for the past few weeks.
I ponder Sutton’s question while she chitchats with Bobby. What is my biggest dream? The straightforward question doesn’t warrant the slight tightness in my chest, but there it is. If I don’t nip this in the bud now, that tightness will grow.