“Surfing is definitely in second place. No wait…” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “After this morning, surfing fell tothirdplace.”
My mouth curves upward as I remember what apparently is taking first and second place in his mind. “Exactly. And if I have a day off, I’d prefer to do more ofthatthan getting sucked into the ocean by a wave.”
“I’m a good teacher. And you know I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.”
I love how much trust I have in his statement. I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with him. Safer, and yet so vulnerable.
“How about paddleboarding then?” he offers. “I know a place with a great launch area. It’s really easy once you get the balance part down.”
I sigh, sorely tempted. “It’s just too hard to take a day off on the weekends, Dax.”
“What’s Harriet going to do? Fire you?”
“Haha,” I say, deadpan. Something about the mention of Harriet makes me sit up and get dressed. I really do want to squeeze in a run, and I sure don’t want to show up late again. “But really, I can’t do that to her or the others.” I pause, pondering for a moment. “I could take an afternoon or evening off though. Morning is our busiest time of the day. Besides, I’ll have to take time off to start interviewing for jobs. I guess they need to get used to it.”
He sits up, curiosity in his eyes, and takes my cue to get ready himself.
“Have you started applying at places?” he asks.
“Actually, I sent my resume into a place this past week.”
“To another restaurant?”
I frown. “Nope.” I hesitate, as though uttering the words make it too much of a reality. “To a consulting firm in Savannah.”
“Really?”
I nearly wince at the apprehension I see in his eyes. “What? Don’t you think I can handle it?”
“Of course you can. But you’re so happy working in the restaurant industry. It just—surprises me.”
I chuckle. “You and me both. But there just aren’t any restaurant manager jobs here, and anything I’d get in that business in Savannah probably wouldn’t cover the cost of commuting and a dogwalker for Junie a couple times a day. I just—haven’t figured out how to explain what happened at my last job.”
“Do you think they’ll ask? I mean, my interview knowledge is a little lacking since all I’ve ever been in is the military.”
I stop for a moment and watch him get dressed as I think about how different his career path is from most. With civilians, there are always bends and turns and detours and dead ends. With the military, I imagine it’s a much straighter path. “I guarantee it. They’ll probably even call my old workplace, which sucks because so much time has passed that anyone they talk to in HR won’t even remember why I fell apart. All they’ll know is that I cost them their biggest client.”
“Supposedlycost them their biggest client. Hell, evenIcan recognize a spin when I see one. And I’m just an Army guy.” He tugs on his running shoes, and I go to my closet to retrieve mine.
“Spin?”
“Sure. That’s all it is. They do that all the time in DC, where I was stationed last. Something bad happens? Put a spin on it. Make people believe what you want them to believe. Barnum and Bailey was—”
I crack a smile. “Barham, Tanner and Butler,” I correct.
He slices a hand through the air. “Whatever their name was—they were going to lose that client anyway. They were going to end up looking bad. But then you had a little meltdown—”
“It wasn’t little.”
“—and bam! They’ve got their scapegoat. Now they can say they lost the client because ofyourather than them.” He looks at me skeptically. “Come on. You had to have thought of that yourself.”
“It’s always a coin toss when a client puts out an RFP. I don’t know. But whatever happened, it’s still going to look bad when I’m interviewing elsewhere.”
“Millie, you’re interviewing in Savannah. It’s Ranger country there. Savannah loves their military. You tell them the truth—that your brother,a freaking SEAL,had just been injured on a deployment and was hanging on by a thread. They’ll side with you. Believe me. Your brother got injured, yet you heroically tried to fulfill your obligations to the firm—”
“Stupidly, not heroically,” I interject.
“Heroically,” he repeats. “Spin it, Millie. And then when the horrible reality hit you about what had happened, your team didn’t have your back.”