by Sofia Sawyer
“Anyone home?” she called out.
“In the kitchen,” her mom responded.
Elena followed the short hallway off the foyer to the lavish kitchen, perfect for an esteemed chef. Or her mom. She propped a hip on the counter and peered into the pots on the stovetop. “Whatcha making?”
“Beef goulash,” her mother said as she nudged Elena out of the way to grab spices on the counter.
“That’s...different.” Her mother, a proud Italian woman, usually stuck to foods from her homeland. But Hungarian? That was unexpected.
“The girls and I are experimenting. Every week for the next three months, we’re tasked with making different meals from different cultures. It’s been a lot of fun,” she said with delight.
Her mom and a few members of the neighborhood community had weekly get-togethers where they’d drink too much wine and chat about God knows what.
“Save me some?”
“Of course.” Alma was in her element when she was in the kitchen, and her expert cooking skills didn’t falter even with the new recipe on hand. She puttered about, grabbing ingredients and working around Elena as if she wasn’t even there, her focus solely on making the best goulash she could.
“Ah, I thought I heard my beautiful daughter’s voice,” Rodrigo said as he danced into the room, grabbing Elena’s hand and spinning her around.
She laughed. “What’s all this about?”
“I’ve decided to teach dance lessons during the summer. It’s time to infuse a little culture into the area, mija.” He twisted his hips in tempo with the vibrant, upbeat music.
Alma shook her head in amusement as she busied herself over the goulash. “He’s teaching flamenco and fandango.”
“And tango,” he added. “You should come to the classes one day. Show the group your tango skills taught by yours truly.”
Elena grinned as she watched her father dance around the kitchen. “Funny you should say that. We’ll be tango dancing tonight.”
“You’ll make your father proud, yes?” he asked as he stopped in front of the saucepan.
Alma slapped his hand away. “Don’t you dare put your fingers in that, Ro.”
He held his hands up defensively. “Never get between your mother and her cooking.” He took a seat at the island. “What brings you here? Not that we’re complaining.”
She sighed and sat on the floor, petting an elated Marley. “Oh, you know, just wanted to say hi.”
Alma turned and crossed her arms, a wooden spoon in one hand. “What’s going on? Spill it.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, dodging their stern looks.
Alma waved the spoon around. “Don’t make me use this,” her mother smiled with the empty threat.
Elena let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. It’s Jackson.”
“Do you need me to take him out back?” Rodrigo asked as he threw his hands up like a boxer, jabbing the air.
She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just…”
Her mother inspected her. “You have feelings for him?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s all over your face, mija. My daughter is love-struck.” She clutched her chest, delighted by the idea.
“I wouldn’t say love.”
Alma cocked an eyebrow. “Start from the beginning.”
Elena shrugged. “I don’t know where to start. All I know is this fake relationship doesn’t feel so fake anymore. There are moments off-camera that he does these things that make me think maybe he’s got feelings for me, you know? I just don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore.” She leaned her head against a cabinet and sighed. “I feel more like myself around him than I have in a long, long time. That could be it? Couldn’t it, Mom? Maybe it’s just the rush of feeling like myself and not actual feelings.”
“I believe it’s one in the same,” her father, the romantic, supplied. “Maybe you haven’t found ‘the one’ because you never felt you could be yourself around them. Jackson seems to appreciate you, yes?”
“If anything, he’s always trying to get me to loosen up, so I’m more like myself.” As she said the words, she suddenly realized she believed him. He had argued with her that everything he’d done back in high school was to get her to drop the persona she’d put on in front of others, and not because he was purposely trying to hurt her.
She thought he was just saying that to save face. But now, after spending all this time with him, she could see his perspective. Not only that, but she wondered if maybe he’d been right all along. If she’d just been herself all those years ago, things might have been different. Harder, likely. But at least she’d feel right.
Her parents exchanged a look.
“What?” she asked in annoyance.
“I know you struggled for some time when we came here years ago. Your identity was hard for you to find your place. But people like Mae and Jackson are good for you. They let you be your true self with no judgment. You need that in your life. If you’re open and honest with yourself about who you are, then maybe you can make sense of these feelings you’re having,” Alma suggested.
Her father nodded.
Elena glared at them and stood. “What are you saying?”
“We’re saying that it’s time you embrace who you are,” her father answered. “You spent so much time worrying about what other people thought. You were constantly trying to mold yourself to fit.”
“You don’t know what it was like. I was tormented when I got here. Shut out. I had to be flexible, so I wouldn’t be lonely. You don’t get it. You came down here and fit in just fine because you were a sought-after professor.”
Rodrigo stood, his tanned skin taking on a pink hue. “You don’t think we know what it’s like to be shut out? My family came to America when I was just a boy. Where we landed was anything but welcoming. We had neighbors lining the streets outside our house with signs protesting our very existence. They didn’t want ‘our kind’ in their neighborhood. For weeks, they were relentless. But you know what your Abuelo did?”
“What?”
“He stood his ground. He went outside and talked to them. He got to know them, and he made sure they knew who we were. It wasn’t easy, facing that. But eventually, most people let it go. They saw that although we were different, we weren’t a threat. Did our family become best friends with everyone in the neighborhood? Of course not. But we were accepted by a handful of families. And that’s all that mattered.”
“And what about when you came here? I was completely ostracized when we first got here. You both settled in so easily.”
Alma gave the sauce another stir and rested the spoon on a holder. “We faced our challenges too, Elena. But we never wavered on who we are.” She shared a look with Rodrigo. “People were chilly towards us when we went to department events or the neighborhood parties. No one seemed to know what to say to us, so we all stood around, smiling politely.” She chuckled and shook her head at the memory.
“What did you do?”
“Your father brought his intellect and charm, telling stories of all the interesting places he’d traveled to as an archaeologist and all those wonderful discoveries he made.”
Rodrigo stood next to Alma, wrapping a loving arm around her shoulders. “And your mother did what she does best, she cooked unforgettable Italian meals.” He kissed Alma’s head. “No one could resist. The right people warmed up to us, and they were our first friends here. Over time, we met more people, and some of them became friends too. That’s what counts. You don’t need everyone to like you. And not everyone deserves your attention and kindness. You need to seek out those who are worthy and hold on to them. Forget the rest.”
Alma crossed the kitchen and took Elena’s hands, a thoughtful look on her face. “You did your best writing and helped so many people when you were being yourself, right? Perhaps you hid behind your alias, but that gave you just enough safety to be your authentic self. That’s why it took off, E
lena. That’s why people trust you, and that’s why you got this book deal. It’s time for you to see that it’s not so scary to be who you are. The right people will embrace it. The wrong ones won’t, and they’ll try to make you feel less. But why would you want those people in your life anyway?”
Elena slipped her hands away and crossed her arms. “If you both felt I was being a fake this whole time, why didn’t you say anything before now? Especially you, mom. You’re a therapist.”
Alma nodded, a patient look on her face. “And as a therapist, I don’t push people to do something they aren’t ready for. They need to recognize when change is needed and be open to it. All I can do is help them discover the issue and navigate through it. When you started the blog, I know you were scared about your identity coming out, but this has been a good thing for you. Being with Jackson is a good thing. You’re realizing that you can be yourself and accepted. These are all good things.”
After years of trying to be perfect, she worried it would be impossible to reverse what she’d done. Did she even know how to be the person she needed—wanted—to be? More importantly, would she be brave enough to embrace it?
The alarm on Elena’s phone buzzed, indicating she needed to get back to her place and get ready for her date. “I’ve gotta go.”
Her mother and father sandwiched her in a tight hug, despite her sour mood. “We love you very much, Elena. Don’t you forget that,” Rodrigo said as he placed a kiss on her head. Always the romantic, he added, “Just be yourself and follow your heart. That’s all you can do in this life.”
“I will, dad. Love you too.”
Elena grabbed Marley and jumped in the car back to downtown, feeling like utter crap. She couldn’t believe her parents let her go on like this for nearly twenty years. They knew she was struggling, but let her try and try again.
Then again, that tracks with how her parents were. They were loving and supportive. The best parents she could ask for. But they didn’t pry. They didn’t push. And they didn’t force her to do things she didn’t want to. They stood back and allowed her to make her own decisions, supportive no matter what the outcome.
Maybe she could have used a little prying and pushing through. Twenty years of wasted effort?
She felt defeated at the thought. How would her life have been if they had pointed it out sooner? Sure, Mae had always made comments about it when they were in their teens, but her parents’ perspective would have mattered. Maybe even made a difference.
She couldn’t have felt worse.
Pulling into her parking spot, she and Marley raced up the stairs to her apartment, only to find Brittany waiting by the door. Elena skidded to a stop before plowing into her.
“What are you doing here?” Elena asked.
Brittany’s fake smile was a cross between a scowl and a cat-got-the-canary. She flipped her tousled blonde curls over her shoulder. “Just wanted to stop by and see how my favorite writer was doing on her week off.”
Elena eyed her suspiciously. “If it’s work-related, it will have to wait until next week when I’m back from my PTO.” She dug in her purse and fished out her keys, trying to subtly push past Brittany and get into her apartment.
“No, Ella. I don’t think it can wait.”
Elena’s hand froze halfway to the door lock, keys dangling from her fingers. “What did you just say?” she breathed without facing Brittany.
“I just couldn’t believe we had a celebrity working with us all this time,” Brittany added sarcastically.
Time stood still. Elena turned, panic coursing through her body. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Brittany cocked her head and studied her. “So full of secrets. The famous Ella from Always, Ella, huh? I just find it so interesting how I’ve sat next to you for nearly two years, and you’ve never told me all about your lucrative side hustle.” She raised an eyebrow. “Funny. Reading your posts seems like you’re a pretty busy girl. How would you juggle all your fame with the promotion we’re up for?” Brittany tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, this might be considered a conflict of interest. Our clients like wholesome, respectable professionals. They might feel wary working with relationship guru Ella. Just doesn’t quite fit our brand at Holy City Advertising.”
Elena’s blood ran cold as she thought back to all the posts she’d written as Ella. Although not many, there were definitely a handful providing sex advice. She hadn’t even thought about how that would reflect on her company or herself as a professional once her identity was revealed. She’d been so caught up in the momentum of the blog taking off and the book deal, she didn’t consider talking to her boss about it.
I’ve fucked up. And now Brittany’s going to make me pay.
Sweat trickled down her neck. Brittany, her nemesis, was not only going to out her but was going to cause her to lose her job. Despite the contract Christopher had negotiated for her, she couldn’t afford to lose her income. “It’s not like that—”
Brittany pulled out her phone and started to dial. “Maybe we should get Mark to weigh in on this.”
“Please. Don’t do this.”
“Save it, Elena.” She narrowed her eyes and stuffed her phone back into her purse. “Now I’m going to give this to you straight. You’re nothing but a diversity hire at the agency. Because human resources needs to hit certain numbers, they brought you on. But you know what? That’s crap. You’re taking good jobs from deserving people. Your writing is subpar at best, but you only get the credit and attention because of who you are, not because you’re worth it.”
Tears stung Elena’s eyes. She swiped them away. “What do you want, Brittany?”
“I want you to bow out of the promotion we’re up for. Tell Mark you don’t want to move up anymore. You do that, and I won’t blow up your little side project. I’ll at least give you the courtesy to tell him yourself about being Ella. Maybe he won’t fire you on the spot if you go to him first.”
Elena stood there, speechless. Her stomach clenched, and she became lightheaded.
“You have until the end of the week to get me your answer. Either you pull your name from the pitch and the promotion, or I air your dirty laundry.” She smiled sweetly. “Talk soon!”
She sauntered down the steps without a backward glance, leaving Elena absolutely shattered.
17
Jackson
“Jackson, my man!” Rich greeted as Jackson walked through the open garage door of their small warehouse on James Island.
Rich was one of the handful of people who worked at Jackson’s company, and one that proved to be an exceptional employee. Rich had been a burnout when Jackson found him, spending his days and nights living on the beach, with no real direction in life. He’d dropped out of high school, could barely keep a job, and was more than a little lost in life.
One day, a year into starting his business, he found Rich passed out in the summer heat on a quiet section of Sullivan’s Island. He had been drunk, dehydrated, and the worse for wear. Jackson took him back to his place, cleaned him up, and learned his story.
Rich was a foster kid who had been chewed up and spit out by the system. Once he turned eighteen, he was on his own. With no support system or real direction, he’d floated through life for about four years before Jackson found him.
Jackson knew he was a risk when he offered him a job. The guy had no ties to anything. No sense of responsibility. And that all stemmed from the fact that no one gave a shit about him his whole life.
Until Jackson.
Within a year, Jackson saw Rich flourish. He cleaned himself up, got sober, and took real pride in the work that he did. All he needed was someone to believe in him and offer a little faith. That was five years ago, and they were still going strong.
Jackson and Rich did a complicated high-five-handshake thing they’d made up years ago. “How’s it going?”
Jackson wandered over to the products currently being packaged on their production
line, tracing a hand on the packed boxes ready to be shipped worldwide. Maybe their space was small, but their reach was mighty. Over the years, Jackson saw the potential his business could have, and now he was in a spot to take them there.
Rich handed him a thick stack of papers. “New orders. Just from today.”
Jackson flipped through them, completely floored. “This is incredible.”
“It’s really coming together,” Rich said with pride, his chest puffing up slightly. “Between your travel and the new regional sales rep in the US, we’re really building the momentum.” He eyed the overwhelming boxes stacked in the back. “We’re just about ready to outgrow this place.”
“I’m chatting with a commercial realtor this week. He’ll look into local options and spaces in neighboring states.”
“Hopefully, you find something soon because we can’t ship them as fast as we have them produced. Have you chosen new freight options yet?”
“I have a couple meetings scheduled for tomorrow,” he replied as he flipped through the orders.
Jackson took a seat at a nearby computer, checking on inventory and sales orders. It was beyond anything he could have ever imagined when he started this business. And the one person he couldn’t wait to share the news with was Elena.
“I’ll admit, I’m surprised to see you in. I thought you had that video shoot or whatever.” Rich took a seat opposite Jackson, busying himself with origami made from sticky notes.
Jackson swiped the pad away. “You’re going to put us out of business with how much waste you produce with these.” He laughed. “Yeah, I have to get going soon for my date with Elena, but I wanted to check in on things.”
“What’s on today’s agenda?”
“The guys had to come up with a date that was meaningful to the women. Something that showed we really pay attention.”
Rich placed a finished crane on the desk between them. “And what did you come up with?”
“Elena always wanted to be a writer. She talked about it incessantly since we were kids. So I plan on taking her around parts of Charleston that inspired different books or authors. I’m hoping it will encourage her to feel better about her writing. To spark something.”