I’m too old to drink cheap alcohol. Of course, after Cancun I’m poor and I can’t be picky about what I drink. Plus, I don’t have a job to cover my frivolous expenses—or any expense. I’m going to end up living in my parents’ basement.

“God, why did I quit?”

“Why does my heart hurts so much?”

“Miller,” I answer my dumb question.

Reggie rests his head on top of my stomach. All the tears I’ve been holding just start washing over my cheeks. After my eyes are dried, I give myself a pep talk.

You’re a strong, smart woman. You can always get back on your feet. No, really, it’s fine. You did the right thing.

I wasn’t going to be working for Gary, the asshole who would be asking me for sexual favors every other second of the day. If anything, it was for the best. I would’ve stabbed him with my pen by early Thursday if not sooner. I saved his life and my freedom.

Knowing I can only lick my wounds for so long, I open my laptop and search for a new job. Which is hard when there aren’t many positions open in my field, with my current salary.

I eye the white envelope that’s been in my possession for almost two weeks. I walk toward the coffee table where Mom left it last Saturday after we went shopping. I read through it.

Tomorrow is the last day to accept or decline it. Blend Digital Media is one of the biggest advertising agencies in the country. They offer me relocation, housing, a six-figure salary, and a big signing bonus. However, I need to sign a two-year contract.

Reggie lies next to me, his head resting on my lap.

“Do we want to move to New York?”

He doesn’t budge. Typical.

I grab my journal and write the pros and cons of taking the job. My lease is almost up, and I haven’t renewed it. There aren’t many open positions nearby. I found a job in Los Angeles, but it doesn’t pay as well as the one in New York, and I’d have to go through another round of interviews.

“Mom’s not going to be happy,” I tell Reggie. “Are you sure we have to move?”

He huffs.

“Well then, it’s been decided.”

I grab a pen, sign, and date all the documents. Once I’m done, I drive to Thomas’ office. They’re pretty laid back there and he has what I need: a fax and a scanner.

“You look like shit,” he says when I enter his office.

“Do you have a fax and a scanner I can use?” I sigh.

He looks at the envelope and closes his eyes and says, “No…”

“Do you think anyone has one I can borrow?”

“I meant yes, it’s…” he points behind his desk.