Gotta Have Fate (Winslow Brothers)

I nod again.

“All right. Well, that night, my boss mentioned to me that I’d really impressed everybody and that she wouldn’t be surprised if they offered me a position. One that would include a pretty big promotion from my current position,” she begins to explain. “And she was right. The…the next day, they ended up calling me to discuss how well I’d done and offered me a job in California. Working for them.”

“Okay…” I pause, trying to wrap my head around her words. “That’s…pretty far away. I mean, baby, it’s great you got the job offer, but obviously, that’s not going to work for us. Our home is in—”

“I-I took it,” she blurts out, cutting me off. “I took the job. In California.”

I blink. Once, twice, three times, and then laugh. I mean, we literally just talked about this the other day, and I told her I couldn’t picture myself living anywhere other than New York.

But Charlotte doesn’t laugh with me, and it becomes clear that she’s serious.

“Are you kidding me right now, Char? It’s the night before our wedding.”

“I know.” She rubs at her face harshly and then meets my eyes again. “And I’m sorry, Rem. The timing isn’t great, but the opportunity is. I’d be heading up an entire campaign for a really high-profile client there. Making the decisions, leading the team. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of for my career, and you can work from anywhere.”

I want to tell her she’s still young. That she hasn’t been out of college that long and has hardly had any time to dream or envision what she wants for her career.

I also want to tell her this is fucking insane. Even if I can work from California, that doesn’t mean that the whole rest of our lives isn’t here.

But I try to control my thoughts and my words.

This is Charlotte. My fiancée. The woman I’m going to marry in less than twenty-four hours.

I don’t want to spend the night before our wedding in a big blow-out fight.

My head throbs as I think about my brothers and sister and Mom and aunt and uncle, all here in New York. About the role I’ve had as the de facto head of the family since my dad left so many years ago. Aside from my mom and my uncle, I do most of the looking out for my siblings.

I don’t want to be an asshole. Charlotte is smart and capable, and she deserves the opportunity to excel. But California? Does she really need to go there to achieve her career goals?

New York is the fucking city of opportunity, dammit. People move here from all across the globe because this city, the one we’re in, makes dreams come true.

I steady my voice, trying to make sure I speak calmly and supportively. “Baby, I’m so proud of you. Really, truly proud of everything you’ve worked for because you deserve it. But how do you know California is the answer? Our support system is here. The company you’ve been working with since you graduated is here, along with a million other headhunting firms. We don’t need to leave everything behind for you to soar. You can fly here. I know you can. Take the time to think about it, and I think you’ll agree with me.”

“But, Rem, this chance is now. They’re offering me something that someone my age would never—should never—get to do.”

I hear her. I really do, but this decision feels impulsive and rash.

“I don’t think you’re thinking it all the way through, Char, I’m sorry,” I say, my words softened by the tender tone in my voice. “You’re young. There are so many things that are going to come to you, and they’re going to come soon. If you just stay here.”

“Remy—”

I shake my head, too fucking overwhelmed, and cut her off before she can continue. “No, Charlotte. No.”

She jerks her chin back into her chest, and her eyes glisten with moisture. “No? What do you mean, no?”

Frustration over the timing of this conversation—on a night when we’re supposed to be drunk with happiness—tightens my chest and threatens to make it explode.

First, that stupid fortune-teller, and now, Charlotte. I’m tired of everyone trying to mess with the plan. I just want to get married and be happy, for fuck’s sake!

“I mean we’re not moving to California. We’re getting married tomorrow, just like we said we would, and we’ll figure out a way to make the same opportunities in your career here. My brothers. My sister. My mom, my uncle Brad and aunt Paula, your parents, our friends—they’re all here.”

“Remy—”

Upset, I cut her off again, even though I know she deserves better. I just can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now or that she decided to take the job without even discussing it with me.