to loosen up a little. A tie sends the wrong message. You know, you could loosen up a bit too, Zo. It’s been good for Zane.”
It has been good for him. Abby has been good for him. She upended him completely, and I couldn’t be happier about it. My brother had been closed off tighter than a hyperbaric chamber. When he fell for Abby, I could almost hear the hiss as the doors opened, letting Zane breathe real air. He seems healthier now, and definitely happier.
But that doesn’t mean I need to change. I’m just fine. And like I said, I’ve picked my lane. I know the speed limit and I know the destination. I’m on cruise control. No need to so much as tap the brakes.
“I’m not my brother.”
Abby sighs. “Fine. Back to gifts. Help!”
“Maybe something for his house,” I suggest. “Weren’t you helping him decorate?”
“Boring. I was thinking about a puppy.”
I blink. “You want to get my brother a dog?”
“Is it a bad idea?”
“Pets make terrible gifts. I mean, I know Zane’s working less now that he’s not full-time at the startup. But at his core, my brother is a giant workaholic. Who’s going to take care of the puppy? I don’t even know how much he likes dogs.”
We’d never had a dog or any pet growing up, probably because of my dad. He spent years in the military, and I suspect he irons his socks and underwear, though I’ve never actually caught him doing so.
The idea of pet hair in his house? No. Slobber? No way. Potty accidents? God forbid. Zane might have loosened up, but I have a feeling he would be the same way. I can almost picture him, following a puppy around with a vacuum cleaner and a damp rag.
“Fine. You’re no help,” Abby says. “Question: Is this thing you call ‘music’ supposed to help you muster up the courage to quit? Because I don’t get it.”
“I don’t need to defend Teffy to you. Her awards and album sales speak for themselves.”
“Teffy, huh? Is that her new nickname?”
Teffy is what Taylor Swift’s brother calls her. It predates the names her fans and the media call her. But Abby, a staunch hater of pop music, doesn’t deserve to know that fact. She can google it.
I eye the clock on the dashboard. “Speaking of quitting, I’ve got to get into work.”
“Before you go, one more thing.”
I can tell by the tone of Abby’s voice that I’m not going to like whatever this thing is.
“Zane invited me to your birthday night. But I don’t want to come if you feel like that steps on your toes or something.”
I swallow back the hurt. It shouldn’t matter. The tradition that Zane and I started back in high school was that on our birthday, we’d go mini golfing at the iconic Peter Pan Mini Golf and then treat ourselves to Sandy’s frozen custard. If that’s not an Austin cliché, I don’t know what is.
It’s our thing. We never even invited our dad.
“Of course I don’t mind. You’re my best friend.” I find myself squeezing the steering wheel with my free hand, hard enough that my knuckles turn white.
“Yay! I’m excited! Okay, gotta run. Computer code is calling. Love ya!”
She hangs up before I can respond.
Now I have a new reason to need cheering up. Groaning, I dial up the volume and lean my head against the steering wheel.
Is it ridiculous that I am sitting in my car outside work, trying to apply meaning from Taylor Swift’s life to my own? Maybe.
But ever since my mom took me to one of her concerts the year before she died, the singer has become my spirit animal. Maybe it’s because Taylor Swift reminds me of one of the best last times I had with my mom. Or maybe it’s simply because Taylor is awesome, no matter what Abby says.
Either way, I need to channel some of her grit before walking into the offices of Morgan-Beckwith, boutique marketing firm. Taylor had the music industry to fight. I have an office full of catty women, my ridiculous crush on my boss, and a resignation letter I haven’t had the courage to turn in yet.
Gavin is both the reason I’m resigning and the reason I’m struggling with it so much.
No one has any idea the amount of self-control it takes to look uninterested in Gavin day after day. It’s like wearing a corset on my emotions all day long, the laces squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter until