“Are you guys mad at each other?”
“Can we talk?”
“Yes. But we’re not repeating the hospital conversation, Ben. Show me the offer.”
He handed me the folder.
I read the salary, start date,
relocation support, and schedule. Then I looked up.
“When did you fly out there?”
His silence answered me.
“Show me the offer.”
“The conference in May?”
“I met with them while I was there.”
“So you used a work trip to interview for a job that could move our family across the country.”
“I was going to tell you when I knew it was real.”
“It became real when you applied, Ben.”
He sat on the bed.
“I was going to tell you when I knew it was real.”
“I thought you’d shut it down.”
“And you were so afraid of hearing no that you removed my chance to say anything.”
“What do you want me to do now?”
“For tonight, sleep in the guest room.”
His head came up.
“I’m not punishing you. I need space.”
“And you were so afraid.”
He nodded.
I held up the folder.
“Tomorrow,
I look at what this move costs me: my clients, Olive’s school, our support system. Then I’ll decide whether Oregon deserves a conversation.”
For once, Ben didn’t try to steer the outcome.
“Okay, Chels.”
