Four times the number of Wildes would mean four times the profit and, therefore, four times the number of cute shoes in my closet.
On the other hand, it will be significantly more staff to manage, which means an exponential number of ways everything can go wrong. My brain ignores all the positives and instead imagines every possible scenario where things could go sideways. Fire, flood, famine. A bad review that goes viral. I start to spiral down into a deep, dark hole of this is a bad idea, even though I know in my gut that it’s a great one.
It’s the part where I normally call Dax. The part where he tells me to get out of my head and reassures me by reminding me of all the fabulous things I’ve done in my life. He holds my metaphorical hand until I calm the fuck down and can see straight again. I need his opinions. My itchy fingers reach for my phone. Just one little text to ask him if he thinks I’m making a mistake. If I’m steering the SS Gemma in the right direction.
But I hesitate. Because he’s acting weird. Because things are different here. And I still have Kiersten’s words from this morning lingering in my head.
She picks up the phone on the fourth ring.
“I am capable of making risky decisions.” I say it before she has a chance to get out anything but a “Hello.”
There’s the sound of a deep sigh on Kiersten’s end of the line, and I can hear the muffled shuffle as she adjusts the phone to her ear.
“I know you are. And I’m sorry if I came off sounding a little harsh earlier. I had a long talk with my therapist afterward, and she told me I was an asshole.”
“Did she actually say asshole?”
“No. She used far more expensive words, but the sentiment was there.”
This is how Kierst and I work. No timeline can change that. Even when we fight, it only takes a phone call and a half apology to put things right. And even though we’re good now, I feel the need to explain to her why even though I know something like Dérive is probably good for me, looking into the future and seeing a giant gaping black hole of infinite possibility is terrifying. I need reassurance. Whether it’s her or Dax or someone else doing it. I don’t like to stare into an unknown abyss alone.
“Do you remember when I was little, and I watched Little Women, like, every single day for a year?”
I can hear the light laugh in Kiersten’s breath. “I still can’t watch that movie.”
“I liked knowing the end,” I admit. “Even the part when Beth died. I was okay with it because I saw it coming, and I could mentally prepare for it.”
“I get it, Gems,” she says. “I really do, but the predictable path is boring. And you miss out on the chance to try some really incredible things.”
“You make sense in theory. I don’t know. I think that’s why I always turn to you and Dax. If both of you agree with me, then it can’t be a bad idea.”
“You’re not wrong. However, I think there are some scenarios where the only answer is to trust your own gut. You’re a smart cookie. You make good decisions.”
“I guess.”
“So, are you going to see that woman about the spa tomorrow?”
“I think I should. I’m interested in hearing what Priya has to say. Wanna come and be my cheering section? I will pay in doughnuts and undying devotion.”
“I think this is one you need to do on your own.” There’s a long pause on Kiersten’s end of the line. “But I’m really proud of you, Gems,” she continues. “Whatever you decide, I know it’s going to be incredible.”
I hang up the phone with a lighter heart and a stomach filled with amped-up butterflies. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life.
Or this life, at least.
By the time I turn out my bedside lamp, I feel ready to take on whatever tomorrow brings. And as I lay there in the darkness, staring up at either a mark on the ceiling I’ve never noticed or Frank’s new girlfriend, I think there’s only one thing that would make all of this more perfect.
My phone buzzes. It’s strangely on cue, and as I stare down at the text, it feels like the universe is sending me a message.
Dax: Hey. Sorry about earlier. Things are a little up in the air for me right now, but I’m really excited to hear how tomorrow goes. I’m sure you’ll kill it. xo
Chapter 21
By nine the next morning, the excited fluttering butterflies have morphed into a swarm of pissed-off bees. I’ve gone from being cautiously optimistic about my meeting to pacing my apartment chanting, “What the hell am I doing?”
It’s too early in the morning for a shot of tequila to steady my nerves. Three cups of coffee have not exactly helped the situation. My hands are jittery, my heart is palpitating, and my meeting isn’t until eleven-thirty.
I’ve reviewed the train schedule three times. The nine-thirty GO train will get me downtown with plenty of extra time, even if there are train delays. The Hamilton GO station is a quick three-minute walk from my place. There isn’t a whole lot that can go wrong in a few short blocks, but as soon as I think that thought, I worry that I’ve now jinxed myself and decide to be safe rather than sorry and leave extra early.
I’m putting on my non-pinchy, comfortable shoes when there is a knock on my front door.
My first thought is Dax.
He came after all.
Our psychic bond must have strengthened with all the sex we’ve been having. Dax always knows when I’m freaking the fuck out and is here to back me up.
However, when I fling open my door, it’s not my tight-panted, sexy friend-turned-lover, but my middle-aged aunt in a floral-patterned jumpsuit, holding a hot-pink lunch sack and a tray of coffees from Brewski’s.
“Aunt Livi, what are you doing here?”
She holds up the bag and turns the tray so the large steaming cup with my name on it is facing me. “This one is chamomile. I figured you’d be hopped up on caffeine already. And I packed you a lunch. If anything, it will give you something to do on the train other than fret.”
I take both items from her hands and then pull her tiny body into a hug. “Thank you. I needed this.” I squeeze her tighter. “And this as well.” I release her and take a sip of the hot tea.
She nods curtly and smooths the hug wrinkles out of my blouse with her hands. “I talked to your sister last night. We’re both very proud of you. Why don’t you grab your purse? I’ll walk you to the train.”
The walk to the station takes five minutes instead of three at Aunt Livi’s flower-smelling pace. Still, by ten after nine, I have my ticket in hand with the train platform a mere step away. I settle onto a wrought-iron bench next to my aunt to wait.
It feels like I’m back in elementary school, waiting for the school bus to arrive on my first day. Uncertain what will unfold. Unsure if I want to smile or throw up.
I slip my phone from my purse and discreetly check it for messages.
“Are you checking the time or something else?” Aunt Livi’s eyes stay on the train platform as she asks.