The Definition of Fate

Chapter 50

If he truly loves you,
he will love you
when you are an ocean breeze,
but also
when you are a summer storm.

you were not made
to be loved in parts,
you were meant
to be loved as a whole.

- Nikita Gill

One week until Christmas, and I'm about to get fired. Did Mr. Fitzpatrick not see the cruelty in the timing of our meeting?

As I trudge into work this morning through a layer of fluffy snow, I wonder if the cold I feel is from without or within. I'm going numb, separating from everyone and everything, even Josh. He texted me all day yesterday, asking how I was and if I'd heard anything about a job with the NLC, but I haven't responded. I don't know what to say to him, but that conversation needs to be in person. I'm betraying Josh; he pushed me to pursue this job, but he didn't know he would be pushing me away.

There's no use thinking about it. Maybe Mr. Fitzpatrick will let me stay. Maybe all of this worrying and dreaming and hoping is for nothing, but I haven't really considered the possibility of keeping my job at the Post. If I can keep my job...do I want to? It would mean I could stay with Josh, but can I put up with another year of Halle and Mr. Fitzpatrick and the mundane stories that make me want to cry?

I get off the elevator and plod into work. Alaina sees me and gives me her typical perky smile, but she doesn't say anything. Does she know that today is the end of my probation? That this could be my last day at the Post? Just the thought of never having to come back here puts some pep in my step and I march to my cubicle with more confidence than I've ever had here. If I get fired, I have a job offer already on the table that fills me with way more excitement than this one ever has. I can't believe I actually want to get fired.

I toss my bags under my desk and sit in my rolling chair, leaning back and sipping the chai tea I brought from home. I don't bother opening my e-mail. What's the use? If today goes how I think it will, there's no point to checking my e-mail or doing any work. A throat clears behind me and I know who it is.

"Morning, Halle," I grumble at her.

I've never seen my editor look cheerier than she does in anticipation of my demise. Her lips are painted in a fresh coat of red lipstick and her smile could almost deceive one into thinking she actually has a heart.

"Isn't it a gorgeous day, Rachel?" She simpers into my office, leaning her perfect figure against the wall of my cubicle. "I hear you have an important meeting to look forward to this morning."
I bite back a sarcastic response. Halle isn't worth it anymore. If I stay, I have to learn to tolerate her. If I leave, well, what difference does any of this make in the whole scheme of things? She's just a nasty, bitter person with nothing better to do than torture me.

"Do you need something or can I get some work done?"

Halle smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. "I actually do need something. I'm here to escort you to your little tête-à-tête with Griffin. It seems he values my opinion concerning your contributions to the paper."

My face deadpans. You've got to be kidding me. I may not like Mr. Fitzpatrick, but I don't abhor the ground he stands on. Plus, I trust him to be judicious and impartial about my work even if he is demanding. Halle, on the other hand, has no scruples about getting rid of me as part of her personal vendetta.

"Come on, Rachel. Let's not keep our Editor in Chief waiting." Halle gives me a sickeningly sweet smile and leaves me behind as she prances to Mr. Fitzpatrick's office.