He shrugs happily. “I’m retiring. Sometimes you just have to get out of the business.”

I leave in a daze, my feet heavy, my heart leaden once more. I feel useless again. Used.

And confused.

Stepping into the elevator, it’s as if everything I knew about my business has been turned inside out. Bob Galloway was the exemplar of journalism. He was the man I admired. But even he couldn’t keep his ship afloat during trying times.

The elevator chugs downward as my insides churn. I didn’t expect to leave today with my original fee and a pending byline. I always knew I’d be leaving empty-handed.

But the part I’m struggling with is that I was fighting for a chance that was never going to materialize. The job here was smoke and mirrors. My actions were meaningless. I didn’t even need to confess my sins, since they had no bearing on the story after all.

When I reach the lobby, I take a deep breath and try to make sense of what to do next.

This is a twist I didn’t see coming, and even though I’m two hundred dollars richer, I’m walking out the door with more questions.

Where should I go next? What should I do? What sort of work should I pursue?

I’m tempted to head to the nearest coffee shop and fire off clip after clip to other editors. But before I do that, I reflect on last night.

On Flynn’s words outside Gramercy Park.

Let me be there for you.

Out on the street, I stare up at the looming skyscraper, the plucky heroine with the new job opportunity no more.

But as I furrow my brow, the wheels start turning. The dots connect. And I can see a way through.

I can see a whole new path.

Maybe the story was never pointless. Maybe the story was always meant to be my way to Flynn.

It’s a strange way for me to look at things. I’ve always been a practical woman. I’ve always been work-focused, seen things in the context of responsibility.

And yet, even if it was all for nothing, I believe what I went through was all for everything.

I believe it with my whole heart.

This job was never my future.

Because my future includes Flynn.

And maybe, just maybe, there’s something else that I can do. I don’t have to figure it out alone.

Yes, I have Courtney. Yes, I have Kevin, but now I have someone who is supposed to be by my side as I navigate what’s next. I do something that feels crazy, but completely right.

I call my boyfriend to see if he has a few minutes to chat.

33

Flynn

I shoot her a skeptical stare. “Sabrina told you to come here?”

“My daughter sure did,” her mom says, striding up to me and tapping her long red fingernails against my chest. “She said you could help me out.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Did she now?”