If It's Only Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 6)

“When are we finally going to meet the boy you’ve been seeing?” Mom says.

I force a smile. Boy is not the best word to describe George Alby. “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Mom.” And I don’t want to analyze why this is a relief to me—why the idea of introducing George to my family makes me a little queasy. And that feeling isn’t a product of the breakup. It’s always been there.

But why didn’t I want my family to meet him? Was I worried they’d judge me for sleeping with the chair of my dissertation committee? Hell, I’m judging me. Or is it because I knew they’d recognize what I already knew on a gut level? George and I aren’t a good fit.

“Why the secrecy?” Ava asks, coming out of a stall. She’s wearing a blush rose one-shoulder gown.

“I love that on you, Av,” I say, and my sister-in-law beams.

“It covers my mommy pooch,” she says, patting her stomach.

I snort. “You don’t have a mommy pooch.”

“I do, and I like it, so hush!”

“Don’t change the subject,” Molly says. “Why the secrecy with the guy?”

“It’s not actually . . . a thing,” I say. I look down, studying the hemline of my dress. Again, I’m struck by how little I feel about ending this thing with George. It should be a blow. But maybe I’m just made wrong, because it’s not. It wasn’t even much of a blow when Steve broke up with me, and that was the longest relationship I’ve had. No, it seems Easton is the only man capable of leaving me in pieces when he walks away. “I don’t think we’re going to see each other anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mom says.

Teagan is watching me. She’s been uncharacteristically silent on the topic of George and Easton. I have a feeling I know why. She’s met George a few times, and I don’t think she likes him. “Did he . . . want more commitment or something?” she asks.

Right, because last time I talked to Teagan about George, I thought he was going to propose. Because I’m an idiot. “No. Neither of us were ready for that.” I’ll explain the rest to her later when we don’t have an audience. “It’s not a big deal. We were never serious.” I sigh. “Honestly, it was never a good idea to sleep with someone I work with.” Mom’s eyes go wide, and I realize what I’ve said. “Sorry, Mom. Your baby girl isn’t a virgin anymore.”

She laughs. “I didn’t figure you were, Shayleigh.”

“To bigger and better things,” Teagan says with a nod. Then under her breath, so only I can hear, she says, “Emphasis on bigger.”

Swallowing a laugh, I elbow my friend then change the subject in case Mom can see all my secrets in the blush of my cheeks. “And anyway, it’s not a good idea to get attached to anyone here when I’m about to uproot my whole life.”

Mom frowns. “How’s the job hunt going?”

“Better than expected.” Maybe that’s the problem. Did part of me believe I wouldn’t be able to find a job? That I wouldn’t have to worry about moving away from my family because I didn’t think anyone would want me? “I have an interview in Oklahoma on Monday and then one at Emmitson in L.A. next month.”

“Oklahoma? L.A.? Those are both so far.” Mom looks like I just told her I’m planning to marry Satan. “You wouldn’t move there, would you?”

“Mom . . .”

“I hear that it’s really hard to find jobs in your field,” Ava says in her typical peacemaking way.

I nod. “It can be. There’s not exactly a shortage of English PhDs, so general wisdom says you go where the job is.”

Mom wrings her hands. “But who wouldn’t want you? I thought Chicago or Indianapolis—Ann Arbor, maybe? But L.A.?”

She thought I’d stay within a weekend’s drive. Oh, God. Wouldn’t that be nice? I wouldn’t have to miss Sunday brunch. I wouldn’t have to miss watching my nieces growing up. “I don’t know how I feel about it.” Maybe honesty’s my best bet here. “I’ve worked really hard to get this degree, and it only makes sense to follow the job. That was always the plan. But I can’t pretend I’m excited about living on the other side of the country and only coming home a couple of times a year.”

Mom pales. “A couple of times?”

My heart squeezes. I always assumed she’d thought this through. “I haven’t made any decisions yet, but . . .” I stare at my bare feet, too aware of all the eyes in the room focused on me. “I’m beginning to realize the first decision I need to make is whether I even want to keep working in academia.”

“You don’t have to take a job right away, do you?” Teagan asks. “Maybe you need a break so you can decide. A buffer year.”