Clearing out my desk on my free period is harder than I ever imagined. I knew it was coming last night when I got the email from the principal’s secretary. But when I showed up this morning and there was a substitute parked in my parking spot, my stomach sank to my toes. Principal Perry didn’t try to sugarcoat anything. He explained that my actions reflected poorly on the school and he and the superintendent had no choice but to let me go. He told me if I submitted my letter of resignation, they’d accept it so I didn’t have the termination on my record to follow me to my next job. So, that’s what I did.

“Hey.” Elana rushes into the art room and wraps her arms around me. “I can’t believe they’re doing this.”

“Yes, you can. We both knew it was coming.”

She studies my face. “Why does it seem like you really knew?”

“Because they emailed me last night.”

“And you didn’t call me?” she shrieks.

I walk over and close the door. I don’t want to draw attention to what I’m doing. The school agreed to tell everyone I resigned. I hate that the students will think I abandoned them, but it’s better than them thinking it’s okay to vandalize buildings for the sake of art. “I was stupid to do this in the first place. I forgot that what I do affects my students. What kind of example have I set for them?”

“Now you sound like Principal Perry,” Elana says, sitting on the edge of my desk.

That’s because he said the same thing to me not twenty minutes ago. “I’ll be fine. Alex got me a job writing for the paper temporarily. At least I’ll be able to pay my bills until I figure out what to do next.”

“I can float you some money if you need,” she says.

I shake my head. I’ve never taken money from a friend. It only ruins relationships. “It’s really fine. I actually got paid for one story already, and Mr. Monohan told me to come back in when I was ready.” I think even he knew I’d show up today.

The classroom door opens, and a woman in her early twenties walks in. She looks like she’s fresh out of college. She glances at a paper in her hand, no doubt a copy of my schedule.

“You’re in the right place,” I tell her. I grab my box of things, and Elana follows me out. She walks me to the main office where I turn in my ID.

“Want me to walk you to your car?” she asks.

“No. You have a class to get to.” And I want to beat the bell so I don’t run into any of my students. They shouldn’t have to see me carrying the last four years of my teaching career out in one pathetic cardboard box.

She hugs me and says, “Call me later, okay?”

I nod and walk out of the school for the last time.

I drive directly to For the Record. I don’t have time to sulk. Not when there are bills piling up on my counter. There are more cars in the parking lot than usual, but I find a spot in the back and take the elevator up to the fourth floor. I can hear the commotion long before the elevator lets me off. I step into the newsroom to see people partying like it’s New Year’s Eve. My eyes scan the room for Alex, finding him at his desk. He jumps up the second he sees me. He doesn’t ask me what happened, because he knows. I’m sure my face says it all. He wraps his arms around me, and the entire place slowly falls to a hush.

I pull away from Alex and look around at all the eyes trained on me. I quickly wipe the tears from my cheeks.

“Come on,” Alex says, pulling me toward what must be the break room. People are in here, too, laughing and drinking coffee. They stop when they see me.

“Why does it feel like everyone is staring at me?” I whisper to Alex.

“Hey, guys, could you give us a second, please?” He waves them from the room.

I wait until they’re all gone and Alex closes the door before I say, “I’m here, ready to start immediately.”

He hugs me again. “It’s going to be all right.”

“You don’t know that,” I say. Despite what I told Elana, I’m not okay. I’m not convinced I’m going to be okay in time either. “Alex, I don’t want to be a writer. I want to be an artist. I don’t know who I am without my art.”

“Hey.” He pulls back and takes my face in his hands. “You are an artist. That’s not going to change.”

“How? I can’t teach after this. I mean, they let me resign instead of firing me, but you know how news travels. I’m sure other schools will get wind of what really happened.”

He pulls out a chair at the table. “Sit down. I have an idea.”

I sit, and he takes the chair next to mine. “Mr. Monohan bought Priority News.”

“He did? How?” When I left Alex this morning, he hadn’t mentioned this. When did it happen?

“Apparently we missed a lot last night—not that I’m complaining.”

I feel my cheeks warm. I’ve never needed anyone the way I needed Alex last night, and he was amazing through it all. He never questioned me, never pressed me. He just let me take what I needed from him.

“Anyway, the article worked. Oliver went down hard. Other women came forward and pressed charges against him for similar behavior to what he exhibited at your house. Mr. Monohan swooped in and bought the paper, along with the owner of The Sentinel.”

I’m still not sure why this is so great. Oliver deserved what he got, but why is David, someone who had very little interaction with Oliver and who was worried about the staff at Priority News, suddenly so happy?

“The staff got to choose to stay on with the new owners, and best of all, For the Record is moving there. I talked to Mr. Monohan right before you got here, and the lease on this place is paid up for the next three weeks.”

I nod, but I’m still not seeing where this is going.

He smiles. “Think you can pull an art show together in that amount of time?”

“What?” I’ve never shown my work, other than the murals, which I didn’t even sign in a way that people would know it was me.

“You should sell your work at an art show right here.” He holds his arms out. “It’s perfect. Then you can put the money you raise toward starting your own art school. I’m sure the students you taught would want to take classes.”

“Whoa.” He’s talking so fast, and I’m having a difficult time keeping up. “Alex, this all sounds great in theory, but I’d have to find a location for the school. One I could afford for the long term. I won’t make enough from one art show. We don’t even know if people will show up, let alone buy anything.” I hate to burst his bubble like this, but I have to be realistic.

“Okay, just take a deep breath and answer this for me.” He waits, and I realize he wants me to actually take a deep breath. I do, and then he continues. “Can you pull together enough pieces in three weeks?”

“Well, I’m currently working as a freelance writer for a newspaper, so my schedule is pretty wide open.”

He smirks. “Okay, check one. Will you let me pay for an ad to run in the paper from now until the date of the art show?”

“No way.” I’m not letting him pay for anything. “I don’t accept money from my friends or...” I’m not sure what to call him at this point.

“People you’re sleeping with?” he asks.

“Don’t put it that way. You’re more than just some man I’m sleeping with.”

“I know,” he says, taking my hand in his. “You just seemed afraid to call me what I am.”

“Which is?” I need to hear him say it.

“Your boyfriend?” It comes out as a question, and I realize as much as I needed to hear him say it, he needs me to say it in return.

“My boyfriend,” I say with a smile.

“All right, if you won’t take the money for the ad space, then I’m sure Mr. Monohan will let you write stories in exchange for the ad space. It’s no different than him paying you and you paying for the ads.” He waves his hand in the air like it’s a done deal. “Check two. Will you let me help you find a location and possibly get you a discount on the lease by offering ad space to the building owner?” He gives me a hopeful smile.

“You’re not pulling strings for me, Alex. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it on my own.” He starts to protest, but I press my finger to his lips. “I’ll tell you what you can do. You can help me find a location for the school. I’ll even let you come over and massage my shoulders while I paint.”

“Can I massage other things, too?” he asks with a smile.

I roll my eyes, but he knows I don’t mean it.

“So you’ll do it? You’ll have the art show?”

I nod.

He stands up and pulls me to my feet. Then he kisses me. I have to admit I feel safe in his arms, like maybe my world hasn’t come crashing down after all. He takes my hand and leads me back into the newsroom. “Hey, everyone! Let’s get this crap out of here. We have an art show to set up for!”

Everyone cheers, and my mouth drops open. “You talked this over with your coworkers before you talked to me?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “I had to be sure I could make it work before I went making promises I couldn’t keep. I’m a man of my word, Whitney.”

I know he is. I reach up and say, “How did I get so lucky?” before kissing him. The room erupts in cheers.

“Oh great. Two more to add to our collection,” Mr. Monohan says. “Welcome to the team, Whitney.” He nods to me before disappearing inside his office, no doubt to get away from everyone else.

I watch as everyone packs up their desks. It’s the complete opposite atmosphere to what I experienced in my classroom. These people are happy about the move. And I guess maybe I am, too. None of this is what I planned. When I graduated college four years ago and was immediately hired at Priority High School, I thought it was a sign that this was what I was meant to do. But now everything has changed, and maybe it was supposed to. Maybe I’m meant to change paths.

Alex takes my hand in his. “Hey, you should go home and start painting. We can’t have a show if you don’t have pieces to display and sell.”

“I can’t go home and paint while everyone here clears out the office.” What would they think of me if I left them to do all the work when I’m now technically an employee and they’re cleaning in a hurry so I can have my art show in this space? That’s not exactly how I want to start off a relationship with my new coworkers. “I should help. You know, use this experience to bond with everyone.”

His head jerks back a little. “You think helping total strangers pack up their personal belongings is a good way to bond with them? It’s a little awkward if you ask me.”

He’s right. I doubt anyone here wants me to pack up pictures and who knows what else inside their desks. “I feel like I should do something to help. I could pack up the break room,” I offer.

“First rule of working in a newsroom: don’t touch other people’s food. Learn that quickly and you’re going to fit right in.” He smiles, but I sense he’s not really kidding. “Seriously, go home. Paint. That’s the best thing you can do right now.”

“I need to find out what story I should work on. I haven’t even met the features editor yet.” I don’t even remember her name. I raise a hand to my forehead, suddenly sensing a headache coming on.

“Eliza isn’t going to be assigning stories until she gets her things packed up. I’ll give her your email, and she can get you your topic that way, okay?”

He’s not going to take no for an answer, so I nod. He kisses my cheek lightly. “Now go. I’ll call you later.”

I start for the elevator, waving to a few people on my way out. Once I’m inside and descending the four floors, I wonder what I can paint that’s going to be good enough for people to want to buy. No matter how much Alex manages to pull off for me, this show won’t be successful unless my work is good enough. My stomach plummets at the thought.