For one surreal second, I just stared at him.
I had imagined maybe another interview.
Maybe a referral.
Maybe advice.
Not this.
Not a job offer sitting right there in the middle of the table like a door being kicked open.
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.
He leaned back.
“That seems to be a running theme.”
I laughed then.
Actually laughed.
It came out shaky and disbelieving and more emotional than I meant it to.
I looked down, swallowed hard, and blinked fast.
The last twenty-four hours had ripped me up so thoroughly that kindness hit like a blow.
“I want it,” I said finally. “If you mean it, I want it.”
“I mean it.”
“When would you need me to start?”
“How soon can you?”
I almost said immediately.
Then I thought of Emily.
The girls.
The fact that my whole life had already whiplashed once in a single day.
