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Because of course they weren’t.
Lili was suddenly between us, even though we weren’t an “us.”
“I will,” she said, climbing into her hot rod. “You’ll know it’s me because I’ll either be woo-hooing my ass off or sobbing like a toddler.”
“Crossing my fingers for Woo-hoo Sophie, then,” I replied, watching as she took off her glasses and reached for her prescription Ray-Bans.
“I probably should’ve bought booze in advance, for either scenario,” she said, her voice wry with sarcasm.
“I’ll get it the minute you call, Steinbeck.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
I’d screwed things up with us.
forty-three
Sophie
“Tell me.”
I smiled and stepped into the lobby of the building so I could talk privately without everyone on the floor overhearing. I’d just finished my interview and immediately called Max.
“It was amazing! I was prepared for every single question they asked, and at the end they said it was ‘just a formality’ but they’re going to schedule a meeting for me and the leadership team!”
“Congratulations!” Max boomed through the phone, a smile in his voice. “I’m not surprised, but this is amazing news. When’s the meeting?”
“In a week,” I said, still unable to believe it was actually happening. “Holy shit, Max, do you realize that if we hadn’t started our whole fake-friendship thing, this might not be happening?”
“Wild, right?” he said, and I could hear his grin.
I wanted to see him.
At that minute, I just wanted to be with the one person in the world who actually understood how badly I wanted this and who seemed proud of me about it.
So I felt warm inside when he said, “You know wehaveto get drinks tonight, Sophie Steinbeck.”
“Yes, we do,” I agreed, melting into my own grin.
“I feel like the lovely servers at Upstream will be pissed if they see us coming on another weeknight, though.”
“Oh.”
“So let’s hit Jackson Street Tavern. I’ll bring the cigars.”
“I’d love that,” I said, excited. “But don’t feel obligated—”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you fucking vice presidential goddess.”
“Max,” I very nearly squealed, excited and just plain happy, but then I remembered where I was and managed a cool “thank you.”
“Ditch the heels beforehand this time,” he said, “because no way will we get lucky twice with the bike.”
I was beaming—thank God no one was around to see me—when I said, “Absolutely I will.”
“You know,” he said, “they’re closing my street for Beerfest on Saturday. We should totally go.”
Shit.
