The next morning, my head throbs worse than any hangover I’ve ever experienced. Unfortunately, it’s not just my head that aches—my heart does, too. My bed is empty. Felicity got up and left a couple of hours ago when Gemma woke up, telling me to go back to sleep for a while.

I should. I’m exhausted, and my eyes hurt to keep open, but each time I close them, I see Levi, the way he looked last night, and it allows a trickle of doubt and regret into my thoughts, and they’re getting harder and harder to drown out. I replace this unease with another and roll over to collect my laptop. I sit up and boot it up because I don’t want to risk powering on my phone and seeing missed calls or messages from Levi.

I open my email and send my final email to Catherine, resigning from my position at Glitter and Gold.

Then I cry again.

A few hours later, I’m at a restaurant on the north side of town, far too close to Levi’s new bar. The place is fancy and pristinely white. Levi would hate it. I approach the host and take a deep breath, hoping Felicity wasn’t lying when she told me it wasn’t apparent that I’d spent the past ten hours crying and that my eyes weren’t as swollen as they felt. Because I’m about to change my future and meet with Allison Hastings about my new job.

Allison does not have the bleach-blond hair I expect; instead it’s a dark maroon, and her eyes are a fierce shade of green. She doesn’t make any small talk and seems bored anytime a sentence goes more than four words. However, she also assures me that the article is mine to do with as I please. That I can write about whatever I’d like and try whatever I want and offers me a hefty budget to support these adventures. She has certain qualities that remind me of Catherine but also is nothing like her.

“How soon would you need me out there?”

Allison smiles. “How soon can you come?”

“My birthday’s in two weeks, and I’d like to be here with my family and friends.”

Her eyes have glazed over again.

“How about a month?” I ask, realizing my last sentence was too long.

“That seems reasonable.” She offers her hand to me. “I can understand why you love it here. Chicago is such a beautiful city.”

“It’s home of Walt Disney, the zipper, the first blood bank, the Twinkie, and Cracker Jacks.”

“Is that so?”

Reciting these facts I’ve learned from Levi requires me to tie a tourniquet around my emotions that come like a flood. Instead, I close my mouth to keep from sharing more.

“That’s fascinating. Well, my husband always insists we stop for hot dogs.”

I smile, nodding. “Definitely a must.”

“Well, Brooke, I’m so glad we had this opportunity to meet. I can’t wait for you to be in LA so we can start working together. And believe me, I think you’ll appreciate the palm trees and the sun. No humidity, no wind—you’re going to think you’ve died and gone to heaven.” She laughs, and I try to join along, though my vision blurs with tears.

She doesn’t notice, distracted by one of her two phones that starts ringing. “I’ll be in touch,” she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Again, so nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” I say, but she’s already heading toward the exit.

I follow after her, taking a deep breath once I make it outside. The streets are congested with pedestrians and cars, the lunch hour creating a sense of chaos that is as therapeutic as it is overwhelming. I pace myself getting to the L Train and ride it to my stop, taking my time and not thinking about anything.

“How’d it go?” Felicity asks when I step inside.

I nod. “It went well. She seems smart. Driven.” I shrug.

“You know, you don’t have to take it. You could quit and find something else. Maybe reach out to that woman at the Herald.”

“She only wanted to interview me, not give me a job,” I remind her. I take a deep breath and kick off my shoes. I appreciate her words more than I’ll admit. It feels nice to know she’s allowing me the same opportunity I’ve been too scared to consider. But I’m not ready to discuss that. Regardless, it’s time I make some decisions. I’ve been living in her guest room for six months in which most of my life has been packed into boxes. “She wants me to write an article for her,” I tell Felicity. “An article about what single women should do or try, as a segue to me joining the magazine.”

“Oh, yeah?”

I nod. “I also asked her to allow me a month before moving out there.”

“Was she okay with that?”

“She said it was reasonable. I don’t know what that means. When Catherine said ‘reasonable,’ it meant she was expecting tougher terms. Maybe I should have negotiated for more time?”

“Have you heard from Catherine yet?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t turned on my phone.”

“You rode all the way into Chicago without your phone? Are you crazy?”

“You realize twenty years ago people didn’t have phones and all survived, right? Sometimes, I miss those days, when we actually had to look at each other and have a conversation rather than everyone always staring at their phones and ignoring life and the world around them.”

Felicity wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Well, you better keep your phone on you when you move to LA because I am going to be calling you every single day.”

I shift, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she leans it on my shoulder. It’s as though I can feel her thoughts and concerns, likely because I’ve had the very same ones since hearing the job was in California—what will happen to us?

“I have to tell Grammy,” I say. “I have no idea how she’s going to react to this.”

“She’ll be happy for you.”

“She won’t get on an airplane.”

“But you will.” I know it’s taking a toll on my best friend to once again be supportive and work to keep me both positive and focused. It’s the same role I was in when she got engaged and before she walked down the aisle. When she had a death grip on me and pleaded with me to tell her she was making the right decision. Not because she didn’t love Dan, but because we both knew a monumental change was about to happen and she needed my assurance then as much as I need hers now.

“You’re right,” I say.

“I always am. Want to eat candy and watch TV until the kiddos wake up?”

“Is my name Brooke?”

She laughs and heads to the kitchen to retrieve candy from her secret stash I’ve been adding to since moving in.

I spend the week at home with Felicity. Some days I don’t get out of my pajamas—other days I get dressed and wear a mask of makeup so we can go to the park and find a new favorite doughnut shop. We watch movies, play chase, and build forts in nearly every room in the house. I don’t turn my phone on except to call Grammy and make plans to see her on Sunday.

The drive out to see Grammy is long. Though I know I’ll be here again, I focus on even the minute details, trying to remember and appreciate each of them. I wish I’d thought ahead and asked my brother to go so I could have told them both at once. It would have been selfish but easier since admitting my move to myself has gotten harder with each passing day, ensuring me it will be damn near impossible to share it with my family.

I find Grammy in the back, where she’s watering her tomato plants. She straightens, her eyebrows furrowing, creating deep grooves along her forehead. “What’s bothering you?”

I shake my head.

“You want to play a game of cards?”

“Yeah.”

“I made some fresh tea.”

“Even better.”

She pats my arm and then my backside as we walk toward the house. “Are you hungry?”

“No, thanks.” I haven’t been hungry in a week.

Grammy goes to pull out a tin that holds several decks of cards while I get the tea from the fridge and fill two large glasses. I place one in front of Grammy while she shuffles and take a long drink in an attempt to push down the large ball forming in my throat.

“Five-hand poker?” she asks.

“Only if you want to lose.”

Grammy laughs, placing the cards before me to be cut.

I beat her three hands in a row.

Grammy shakes her head. “You were born lucky,” she says. “You should go to Vegas. You’d be rich.”

I know I’m more privileged than most, but as of late, luck feels like a stranger. “I quit my job.” The words fall from my mouth like a trap door was pulled free.

Grammy glances up from the cards, and though it’s my turn to deal, she does it.

“I accepted a new job,” I continue. “I’ll be writing, actually. You know my blog I told you about?”

She neatly stacks the remaining cards into a pile, placing them at her side, and nods.

“I’ll be working for a magazine but continuing the blog on a much larger platform.”

“Is that what you want?”

My nostrils flare, and tears tickle my eyes. “I think so.”

Grammy nods. “Trying new things can be scary, but you’ve been at the event planning place for a long time. I kind of thought you might open your own place one day.”

“You did?”

She nods.

“Is it strange that I never really considered where I’d be?”

Grammy shakes her head slowly, her gaze dropping to the table. “You’re young. You have lots of time to decide what you want to be.”

“I’m almost thirty.”

She grins. “Don’t let age scare you from chasing your dreams. It’s only a number. When you were ten, you decided you were going to learn the periodic table, so you did. When you were twelve, you found out Harry across the street lost his job, and you led a fundraiser to make sure they had enough money for the holidays. And when you were fourteen, when your brother broke his arm and we had to go to the hospital, you decided you wanted every kid in the hospital to receive a card, so you and Felicity spent two weeks drawing and coloring to make sure every kid had a card.” She shrugs. “You decided you wanted to write a blog, so you wrote a blog. You’ve always been able to accomplish whatever you set your mind to. Why would you stop just because you’re going to be thirty?”

“The job I was offered is in LA.”

“You were offered it, or you accepted it?” Her blue eyes stare at me, a hint of redness revealing this is going to be even harder than I’d feared.

“I…” I swallow, shifting my attention to the cards because it hurts to look at her. “I accepted it.”

Seconds tick by in silence.

“Well, maybe you’ll love it.”

My eyes dart to her face, catching a watery smile she quickly wipes away.

“If this is what you want, you should do it.” She reaches across the table and lays her hand atop mine. “Distance won’t change anything. We’ll always be family.”

I take a deep breath and pick up my cards.

“If you don’t like your cards, you make your own hand. Discard the bad ones and wait until the good ones come,” she says, patting my hand again.

I want to tell her how I don’t know how to pick the good cards. That the ones I thought were good ended up breaking my heart. Instead, I focus on losing so Grammy can win.

The next day, I go to lunch with my brother to share the news with him. His reaction takes longer, the thought percolating through a fine sieve of questions that he quickly fires off until he realizes I don’t have any answers.

“I’m not telling you not to go, but maybe you should think about this a little more,” he says. “I mean, Grammy is getting older, I’m thinking of asking Kim to marry me, and Felicity’s about to have a baby. Do you really want to be living on the other side of the country?”

“There are planes, phones, video calls. I’ll probably see you by phone more than I see you in person now.”

He cocks his head to the side. “This isn’t because of Gabe, is it? Because I know you loved him, Sis, but I always knew he wasn’t right for you. I think if you thought about it, you’d realize it, too.”

I shake my head. “This has nothing to do with—” My heart rate spikes as I prepare to say his name, realizing I never introduced Brandon to Levi, never even shared about him because I’d been so worried it would only be temporary. My skin warms, recalling the heat of his touch, the weight of his stare. I blink, and each time I do, a new memory of Levi is painted on the backs of my eyelids.

“Sorry I’m late!” Kim appears, peeling off a heavy jacket. “How are you?” she asks, looking to me. “What did I miss?”

Brandon fills her in while I pick at my fries. My appetite still hasn’t returned.