Instead, she worked summers because that’s what Judy would have done. She also put aside her own aspiration of launching a line of natural beauty products. She once dreamed pop stars and indie artists would endorse her lotions and balms. But Judy wanted to create her own line of vintage-hued lipsticks, and if all goes well, Judy’s Lip Rouge will launch in a few months. Joy and her small team of chemists have been working hard at perfecting the colors. She even got marketing’s buy-in on the product’s name and packaging. Judy’s Lip Rouge will come in brass tubes etched with Vintage Chic’s scrolled logo.

Mark’s proud of her achievement. Her parents are pleased with her recent series of promotions.

Too bad she hates her career.

Joy folds the torn page in quarters and tucks it into the pocket of her ratty pink terrycloth robe. She’ll sneak it into Judy’s hatbox later, where she’s stashed other articles and magazine clippings, along with the Polaroids of her and Dylan.

The song spotlight that caught her attention on the page she just tore out is the single of the month released by Catharsis. She’s heard the rock band’s music. It’s good, and their most recent released single is on their fourth album, which dropped several months back.

But it wasn’t the song or the band that was of interest to her. It was the mention of the album’s producer. Dylan Westfield.

His name leapt off the page and her heart slammed against the backside of her sternum. Bam, bam. That happened every time she came across any mention of Dylan and his label, Westfield Records. Every. Single. Time. And it always took her a moment to regulate her heart rate, or to cool the blush heating her skin as it crept up her neck. Sometimes she broke out in a sweat. Would Mark notice her reaction and remark on it? She can’t risk that, so she makes sure that she doesn’t read the magazine, or watch the Grammys, or listen to any of the label’s artists when Mark is nearby.

Joy closes the magazine and drops it on the coffee table, thinking of Dylan.

He’s doing exactly what he told her he wanted to do. He’s living his best life. Good for him.

She’s doing exactly what she told him she planned to do. Too bad she didn’t realize then it would be hard to put what she wanted on hold. Too bad she didn’t foresee how unhappy she’d be.