“You know that I never want you to rush into a decision,” he says, continuing on like he didn’t just toss a dig at me. “But, as your agent, it is my responsibility to get you the best deals that I can. I’m going to be honest here and take the blanket off the baby—the offers will dwindle if we don’t jump on something soon.”

“I know.”

“We can even just enter into official negotiations, but we’re going to have to shit or get off the pot, for a lack of a more professional term.”

“Yeah.”

My eyes fall closed and I stand still, recentering my breath and heartbeat. I lift my chin to the sky and blow every bit of air in my body out into the world.

I’m fine. It’s going to be fine.

“Let me reiterate something,” I say. “I’m not just interested in the money. There’s a lot more at play here.”

“I’m aware. You have a lot in the bank. I get that. But think about it. If you’re going to do something—let’s say, get on a podcast—I’d rather you sign for five million now instead of waiting and getting one or two million in a couple of months. It doesn’t make any sense to leave that kind of money on the table.”

The meaning, or at least part of it, is squeezed in between the lines. Scott gets a pretty percentage of all my deals. He wants to get paid too. But he also doesn’t understand anything outside of himself. He’s one of the most selfish people I’ve ever known.

My spirits drop because I know my indecisiveness is costing him too. But it’s not like I’m dragging my feet over nothing.

“Your pause is making me pause,” he says.

I run a hand down my jaw and over my chin. “A couple of weeks. Let me work through a few things and have some conversations, okay? I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” he says as if it’s not okay at all.

I wish I could explain. I wish I could tell him why this is so fucking complicated and why I announced the end of my career during a seventy-two-hour window.

It would feel so good to blow up and let my emotions explode into the world and not have to keep them cooped up inside me anymore. And not have to hide things from my parents.

Scott would understand. How could he not? It should be blatantly obvious why I bailed and retreated to Ohio and then have hesitated to commit to anything for the time being. But that conversation isn’t one I’m ready to have—not with Scott, not with Fish, and not with my parents.

Not yet. Which makes this side of retirement pretty fucking lonely, if I’m honest.