When Josh Abrams left the hotel that evening he had one thing on his mind: success. After the hugs, handshakes, and goodbyes, he had crossed the parking lot to his car like he was floating on air, the enthusiasm bubbling up through him.
Things were going to be okay.
No—better than okay. They were going to be great.
As he hit the freeway, he cranked up the radio and pounded on the steering wheel like a drummer about to spontaneously combust, punctuating the music with the occasional, “Woo!” and throwing his fist through the sunroof. He was pumped up. Seriously pumped up.
But, now, just hours later, as he sat dumbstruck in his car, he couldn't help but wonder: How had things gone bad so quickly?
The trouble began with the long trip home. Josh had driven nearly eight hours to get to the seminar. He'd thought of flying, of course, but there was no way Kiera was going to go for that. And she was right, if he stopped to think about it—it really was too expensive. And so in the end, he drove. But that was okay, because this weekend had really changed things. Next year at this time, he'd definitely be flying. Maybe first class. No, definitely first class.
For the first hour of the trip home, that was exactly how things seemed. As he drove west into a mind blowing sunset, his mind racing a million miles an hour, he felt optimism on a whole new level. He even found himself ...