Page 128 of I Hope This Finds You Well

He leans farther across the table, and I’m like a sunflower to my light as I tilt to meet him halfway. The sugary shake scent lingers on his lips, and a rush pulls from where we meet, shattering through every part of me, replacing any thought, any worry, with this moment. This kiss. Us—

The employee behind the counter coughs loudly. Pointedly.

We pull apart, exchanging sheepish grins. “Okay, but let’s be real,” Cliff says. “I bet way worse things have happened in this shop.” He reaches out and takes my hand on the table. We both look down, staring at our fingers as they entwine. I want to stay right here forever.

But then the hollowness sets back in.

“Cliff, I... I need to say this,” I say, turning serious. He leans back, and my words are already in his eyes, in the pause of his breath. But I continue. “I’m not in a good place to date right now. I’m still pretty much a mess.” I let out a sigh, but the next part feels easier to say. “I’m working on myself.”

He doesn’t let go of my hand as the words settle between us. “Yeah, that’s... that sounds like the right thing.” He lets the hurt in his voice slip through a crack. “I’m really happy for you.”

I know he means it, but this can’t be it for us. I can’t let him go again. So I say, “But maybe we can meet up again? I might need advice from an HR professional about finding a part-time job, college courses, career things. Is that what HR does?”

“Yes. You finally got one right.” A small spark lights in his eyes. “But for good measure, we should plan to meet up more than once. We might need a few sessions.”

I nod. “Sounds reasonable.”

He pulls out his phone. “I’ll circle back with my availabilities.”

“Great. I look forward to working with you.” I release his hand on the table and hold mine out for a handshake.

He takes it, and as we shake hands, we both smile.

Deal made.

One Year(ish) Later

I spot the red balloons tied to the pole and yell, “The party’s in that building! Those balloons mean party! Pull over.”

Cliff claps his hands on the steering wheel. “Thanks for cracking that code there.”

I smile shakily. “Sorry. I’m a bit nervous. But not the bad kind of nervous! Butsomekind. I want everyone in the room to think I’m so cool and humble and wonderfully funny. Just casually, though: the winner ex-employee prodigal daughter doth return to the motherland Supershops retirement party.”

Cliff gives me that special look he reserves just for situations when he’s truly tired of my shit but in a good way. “So, okay. Just reasonable stuff then?”

I fall back against the car seat, looking out the window at the giant brick building with all its big windows. It looks kind of like a high school. “I kid, obviously. But I haven’t seen them in so long, you know? And even though none of this will matter, it alsodoesmatter.”

Cliff nods, putting the car in park. “I totally get it. But you’ll do great.”

He reaches for my hand that’s sitting on the console and gives it a squeeze. I squeeze it back.

I keep his hand in mine as we go through the double doors of the community center and follow the glossy signs on the wall toward the gymnasium. As we approach, I hear tinny music blaring from speakers. There’s a hand-painted banner strung over the door that reads:Happy Retirement, Rhonda.

When we walk in, the unfortunate first thing I see is Gregory salivating over the buffet table, hands in pockets. He’s wearing the same Supershops-branded polo and khakis as always. After everything that went down at the office and Cliff’s scathing report to corporate, there was a formal investigation, and Gregory was sent to mandatoryharassment training. Even still, he’s holding himself with the same Big Boss energy he used to. I guess some things never change.

The urge to turn around and run right back through the doors tugs at me.

Cliff runs his thumb over my wrist. “You good?” he whispers.

“Yes,” I say, nodding. And I take another step into the room. A poorly taped spiral streamer falls from the ceiling and lands before my feet. I shake my head. “My Morale Booster replacement needs to get their shit together, I see.”

“Jolene!” a voice calls. And Miley comes barreling over, mousy hair bouncing against her shoulders. She’s getting so tall these days; she’s wearing the shirt with the movie logo I bought her last year, but already the hem is looking a bit high on her. She tilts her head to Cliff, eyes wide and excited. “Hello, Jolene’s boyfriend.” Then turns to me: “Rhonda just told me you started a war on Christmas one year.”

Cliff guffaws.

“We found peace.” I shake my head, slapping his shoulder. “How are you?”

She flips her hair back. She looks so confident, her head held high. “Oh, you know, the stoop is good. It misses you. But otherwise, fine.”