Everything About You - Page 72

I pictured someone asking me, “What do you do for a living?” and answering with, “I’m an entrepreneur,” in a matter-of-fact tone. It kind of sounded snobby and that made it even funnier for me who right now was barely scraping by.

But what really caught my attention was when my advisor told me about a program at the university where I could get the opportunity to build my very own micro-business and the school would actually invest the seed money.

I knew I couldn’t pass that up even though it seemed too good to be true.

But if I started a micro-business and it actually did well, then I was already on my way to becoming successful.

I was all about seizing opportunities.

Including the guy who sat beside me in class my first semester at Duquesne.

I was waiting for that guy to walk through the door of our apartment any time now.

He had texted me earlier when he arrived at KDKA. He had gone to meet with management there hoping to snag a permanent paid position. The odds were pretty decent he would succeed since he’d spent all of last summer interning at the TV station and learning the ropes firsthand on what went on behind the cameras.

However, that meeting had been scheduled hours ago.

I didn’t want to text or call him in case his meeting had been delayed or had gone long. I hoped good news was the reason for him being gone for so long.

Maybe he had even stopped on the way home to pick up stuff to celebrate.

My mind spun with all the possibilities.

I wanted him to land the job at KDKA more than anything. That meant we could both stay in Pittsburgh, which we now considered our “home.” Better yet, we could stay together and continue to build our relationship.

I sprung off the couch and my body began to hum with anticipation as soon as I heard his keys jingling in the hallway.

“How did it go?” burst from me as soon as the door opened and he stepped inside.

Immediately, I sensed something was wrong and my stomach dropped.

His face appeared too serious and his vibe was off. By now, Tate was usually greeting me with one of his handsome smiles while demanding a kiss, one that sometimes led to more.

I swallowed down the lump stuck in my throat and tried to ignore the dread filling my chest.

“Ronan...”

My heart squeezed, then began to crack at the way he said my name. Not only did he use my complete first name, I’d never heard him say it like that before.

With caution. As if he was preparing me for the worst.

I had to be simply imagining things. Or being over-sensitive since I’d been so invested in him staying in Pittsburgh with me.

I took two steps toward where he stood by the door. He hadn’t even put his messenger bag down yet. He usually dumped that right away since, like his old backpack, it was so packed full that it was bulging and heavy.

“Did the meeting not go well?” My heart was knocking in my chest.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“It went okay, but…” He pressed his lips together.

“But you didn’t get it,” I concluded.

He shook his head.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Well, maybe WPIX will still come through. There are so many news organizations and radio or television stations in and around the city and I’m sure—“

“Roe, I got a message this morning from WGAL. They offered me a spot at their station in Harrisburg.”

Harrisburg.

He paused for a few seconds to let that news sink in, then finished with, “I called them back after…,” he shook his head, “my meeting at KDKA and accepted.”

I was trying to remain positive. I knew this could be a possibility. I had prepared myself for it. “Is it a good position?”

He nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it. In fact, his face now looked ravaged. It didn’t make sense.

“As an investigative journalist to start.”

Just what he wanted to do. “And the salary’s good?”

He nodded again, licking his lips. He was ghost white.

He was hiding something.

Whatever it was…

I shrugged like it was no big deal for me, when that was farthest from the truth. “Harrisburg isn’t that far away. Only about three hours.”

Since Tate was off to bigger and better things, it could be nerves making him look like that. Or the fact he didn’t want us to be apart once my summer break was over.

I shrugged again, trying to hide my devastation. “I’m sure I can easily find a job in Harrisburg for the summer and I’ll just sign up for campus housing again come fall. We’ll make it work.”

He still hadn’t moved.

The only time I’d seen him look so sickly was last winter when he got the flu and he couldn’t stop throwing up.

But unlike then, he was quiet. Too quiet.

Until he wasn’t.

Tags: Jeanne St. James Romance
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