Call me OCD, but I can’t stand when I have unread emails. I don’t understand how some people let their mailboxes fill up and have thousands and thousands of emails just sitting there.
Read them or delete. It’s not that hard. And yes, I’m aware what a pointless thing it is to obsess over.
I open my email, expecting all four to be junk. Three are, but the forth isn’t.
“Dr. Crawford emailed me about the fellowship,” I say, madly scanning the email. I read it so fast I miss information and have to go back and start from the beginning.
“What did he say?”
“I got in.”
“What? Are you serious?” Quinn jumps up with excitement and throws her arms around me. “That’s amazing! I knew you’d get in. We have double to celebrate on vacation now! When does it start? I can’t wait until you’re here with me!”
I blink, reread a particular part three times, and feel like someone just dunked me under water.
Icy cold, dark water.
Because this is both good and bad. This is tearing me in two and I haven’t even made up my mind, yet alone said it out loud.
I want to live with Quinn and Emma. I want us to be a family, and I really and truly believe we will. I want to marry Quinn and have more babies because I know our kids are going to be fucking awesome kids with the best mother anyone could ask for.
But I also want this fellowship and know a few years can go by fast but can also feel like hell. And a few years of Emma’s life is full of firsts and difficult times. I don’t want to miss out on that.
“Arch?” Quinn asks, sliding her hands down my shoulders and stopping at my biceps. She gives them a squeeze and looks at my phone. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy about the fellowship.”
“I am,” I start. “But it’s in Boston.”
22
Quinn
“Boston?” I echo even though I heard him right the first time. “As in east coast Boston?”
“Yeah,” he says, not looking away from his phone. I can see the conflicting emotions on his face, and I hope he looks up and says it’s not worth it after all because his family is here in Chicago.
But he doesn’t.
“I think our ride is here,” he says instead, and grabs my carry-on bag, hiking it up on his shoulder. I flip my hood on to keep my hair dry and wheel my suitcase out, and the word Boston repeats through my mind over and over. I’ve been to New York but not Boston. It’s not a terribly long flight, but it’s no quick trip either.
And Emma will be born by then. Traveling alone with a baby has to be difficult. I can’t tell Archer not to go though, right? He’s furthering his education, not taking a year or two off to party.
“Get in so you don’t get wet,” Archer tells me, acting as if everything is normal. It’s far from it. He has a life-altering decision to make and it’s not bothering him at all. Maybe he’s already made up his mind. He wants this, after all, and getting in is a huge accomplishment. “I’ll get your suitcase.”
“Thanks,” I say distantly and climb into the back of the car. I pull my hood off and watch Archer quickly load the suitcases into the trunk. He slides in next to me, setting my carry-on in the space between us.
“Do you know how long the fellowship is?” I ask.
“Two years.”
“And you’d start in January?”
“Yeah.”
I nod, and I’m sure he knows what I’m thinking. He’ll be hours away working long shifts. What happens if I go into labor? There’s a chance he won’t make it back in time.
I blink back tears. I should be proud of him. Really fucking proud. This is no easy feat, and he mentioned before how competitive the fellowship is. Only the best of the best get in.
Archer is the best.
He’ll make a great trauma surgeon, saving lives and making the world a better place and all. Plus, being temporarily separated by distance isn’t the worse thing. There are lots of military couples who handle long distance. Archer will be in Boston, not the Middle East.
Yeah…it’s not that bad. We’ll get through this and when it’s over we’ll look back at the hard times and see how it strengthened us. This will be good in the end. Archer will be happy, and most of the time, long-term success and happiness require some give and take.
But we’d just talked about him looking for jobs in the city and us moving in together. I go from feeling like we’re on the same page to thinking he’s jumping ahead into another book. On a different shelf.
If Boston is where he wants to go, then fine. I love him, and we’ll make it work.
“So, what do you have to do about the fellowship?” I ask, picking at a loose string on the fabric seat of the car.
“Accept or decline.”
“What do you want to do?” I tear my eyes away from my lap to look at Archer. The excitement has washed away, and he’s back to looking strained and stressed.
“Let’s not worry about it now. No talking about work, remember?” He smiles, but his lack of response makes me think he wants to take it.
Which is fine. And I know it’s fine because I keep having to tell myself it’s fucking fine.
“Okay.” I reach over and take his hand. Feeling his skin on mine relaxes me, but I know there’s no way I can let this go and not think about it until he comes to a decision. This is big and life-changing. For all three of us.
I wish I could drink. If I could suck down a margarita right now, I so would. And then I’d probably be able to relax and not constantly wonder what Archer’s going to do about this fellowship.
We just woke up on our first official full day in Hawaii, and it couldn’t be more beautiful. I’m standing on the balcony of our hotel room looking out at the ocean trying to find my fucking zen.
The fact that I’m not jumping for joy for Archer makes me feel so guilty it’s like the morning sickness has come back full force. I am proud of him. I do want him to take the fellowship position.
But I want that position to be in Chicago. Maybe it was naive of me to assume he’d get in at Northwestern since we ran into Dr. Crawford and his wife. That’s where he works, after all, and he and Archer have emailed a few times and I even brought it up to Mrs. Crawford when we met for lunch to talk about MIT and internships.
I don’t think it’s terrible that I’m upset to think about Archer moving far away though. Anyone who’s in love would have hesitations about their better half moving states away.
Archer steps out behind me, and his hands settle on my waist. “That’s one hell of a view,” he says, lips brushing against my neck as he talks.
“It is. You might have a hard time getting me to leave.”
“We can become permanent vacationers and forget all responsibilities.” He slides his hands around to my middle. “For a few months at least.”
I close my eyes and lean back against him, inhaling deep. The sun is already warm but the breeze coming in from the ocean makes the weather perfectly enjoyable.
“Nah, we can stay here and just change Emma’s name to Moana. She’ll like the island life.”
“Maybe she’ll grow up to be a pro surfer or something. She’ll need to do something that’ll make a lot of money to support her deadbeat beach bum parents.”
I laugh, spinning in his arms. He grips me tighter and plants a kiss on my lips, making my heart do a skip-a-beat thing.
“We can start her young. Some of those athletes go pro before they can drive.”
“That’s my plan,” he says, and I laugh. Leaning down to kiss me again, he brushes my hair out of my face. It’s hanging down my back in loose waves, and I’m debating twisting it up into a bun. The constant ocean breeze is amazing but makes for messy hair.
“You are so beautiful,” Arch
er whispers. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you, too.” I hook my arms around his neck, heart lurching and wishing I could put Boston out of my mind. But I can’t because not knowing if he’s going to be miles and miles away is killing me.
I don’t want him to go, and though I’m not going to tell him that and let that sway his decision one way or another, I feel guilty over it, like I’m a bad girlfriend.
I can support him and not be happy about it, right? It’s not permanent, by any means, and just because we’ll be living apart—still—doesn’t mean things will fall apart between us. We’ll keep doing what we’re doing now, and by the time the fellowship is over, we’ll have so many frequent flyer miles we can come back here and not have to pay for airfare.
There. Much better. I just need to keep a positive outlook and—who am I fucking kidding? It’s going to suck. I’m going to hate being away from Archer, and he’ll hate being away from us. He’ll support me every way he can, but I’ll still be alone at night with a newborn.
Unless I quit my job and go to Boston with him, because I could. I don’t have to work, and can move out with him. We can rent a cute little house close to a park, and Emma and I can go visit him at the hospital for lunch. Moving far away from my family will hurt, but not being with Archer will hurt more.
“Are you okay, babe?” Archer asks. “Did your morning sickness come back or something?”
“No.” I look into his brown eyes and smile. “I’m still jetlagged I think. And hungry.”
“Let’s go get breakfast before you feel sick.”
“I think I’m okay,” I tell him, a little afraid of jinxing myself. Right around the end of my seventeenth week, the morning sickness went away. Waking up with an empty stomach makes me feel a little nauseous, but it’s nothing like it was before.
We step back into the room and Archer closes the balcony door. I run my fingers through my hair and fix the tie on my beach coverup.
“Should I put on a regular dress?” I ask Archer.