Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Very well.
I wake up a ball of emotion and frustration, which is exactly why I start the day with a run, which is a hobby that became a near obsession after I lost my mother. My therapist said I was seeking the endorphin high, and even though it was a fitness habit, excess is never a good thing. I’d also learned then that I was hiding from the emotional pain with physical pain.
I kind of think Ethan was a version of an endorphin high, another way to fill the emptiness of life without my mother. She would have been so excited for me right now, and it’s hard not to feel that. It must be messing with me. Why else would I sleep with him even after I knew he was basically my boss? I might not fully understand what is going on with my decision-making right now, but I know that I need to go to Paris. I know that Ethan will be in Paris, which means I need to set healthy limits with him the way I have with other things in my life.
With a solid plan in place, I shower, down a protein shake (surely that makes up for the pint of ice cream?), and dress in a breezy pink sundress I designed myself. I’ve seen time and time again that wearing my brand is the best way to show off my designs and stir excitement in my customers. I’ve just finished off a cup of coffee when my father shoots me a text. Are you home?
Finally, I reply. I got in late and didn’t want to wake you, but I’m up and headed to the shop now.
Perfect. You can set the schedule up for when you’re in Paris. You know I’ll keep an eye on things.
And there it is. Another concern niggling at me. He’s struggling with his own business. He doesn’t need mine in the mix as well. But nothing I say or do will stop him from looking out for my store and me. He’s devoted to those he loves. He’s devoted to those he’s in business with as well, and yeah, my father hit some financial bumps, but he’s a solid investment. Ethan couldn’t see beyond the finances, and he missed out.
He couldn’t see the man, only the money.
And yet, he’s doing business with me.
There’s no right way to deal with this when it comes to my father, and for now I grab my purse and head for the door. A few minutes later, I’ve finished my walk through the cozy, upper-class area of Denver called Cherry Creek, where I live and work. I adore the walkability and storefronts in the area, and I love my corner location in a big way. Visitors who enter Zoey’s are greeted with racks of adorable clothing and a cluster of cute displays that spotlight makeup, accessories, and knickknacks, all of which I’ve brought in through years of partnership developments, the most recent of which is our shoe department.
“You’re back!”
This from Lily the pretty, my part-time store manager, who’s presently rushing my direction. Lily is truly the sweetest person I know, a pretty blonde who’s positively stunning today in a whimsical white dress etched with flowers, which just so happens to be one of my favorite creations to date.
I’m swept into a hug, after which she compels, “Tell me all about New York!”
Her excitement is contagious, and despite my Ethan situation, I find myself excited to talk about the Zoey brand. We head to the back office and spend half an hour talking through the entire presentation, and Lily’s excitement is over the top. “I just have to ask, will you hire me if this goes all the way? Like, really hire me? Do I have a shot?”
“You’re being silly, woman. Is that even a real question? You’re already Team Zoey, but I’m worried about the store when I’m gone.”
“I’ll handle it,” she insists.
“You have design school and a limited schedule.”
“I have my new part-timer I just hired to lean on. Kayla is amazing. I like her.”
“We barely know her,” I remind her, pointing out the obvious, “and she’d be running the store when you’re in class.”
“For a limited number of hours,” she counters. “And we’re connected on text. She’s an excellent communicator. She’ll call me if there’s a problem. Problem erased.”
“Okay. Maybe. But think about my father being alone—”
She holds up her hands. “Whoa. Whiplash. You’re giving me whiplash. Your father’s a grown man. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He’s a great guy who I know is telling you to go.” Her brows dip. “Why are you making excuses? Are you self-sabotaging, and if so, why in the world would you do that to yourself?”
I’m reminded of Ethan saying life should be about “no regrets” back when we were in Hawaii and it gives me pause.