“Really?” I looked away from Summer, refusing to meet her know-it-all gaze. “We’ve devolved into discussing the hot guy at the bar? Women, we are failing the Bechdel test.”
“At least that means we can’t talk about your asshole ex, either,” Gabi said.
“We don’t talk about him because the subject is a total bore,” Summer said. “But I’m open to other subjects.” She sighed. “Even if they’re not about the man poured into a tight pair of jeans that showcase?—”
I cleared my throat to interrupt her. I did not need to let my mind wander to what Nick Roman’s jeans were showcasing. “I could actually use some advice.”
Gabi sat up straighter and Summer broke into a wide grin. Yeah, I’d probably regret this.
I took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to share the bad news with my parents. I can already picture Mom’s frown lines and Dad’s head shake. And you know Jake won’t be any help. Baby brother’s bound to have exciting news to share about his life. He always does.”
Gabi took my hand. “Breathe, Care.”
“I’m not spiraling, I promise.” Still, I followed her advice to focus on calming myself.This night is about peace. “Any words of wisdom about how to start the discussions?”
“Wait.” Summer propped her forearms on the bar. “What bad news are we talking about? The art show fell through a month ago? You still haven’t told them about it?”
I shook my head and slumped down in my barstool. If she thought that was bad... “Also, I haven’t mentioned the thing with Riley.”
Summer’s blue eyes flew open wide. “The thing with—Do you mean the fact that he broke up with you and kicked you out of your shared apartmentfive months ago?”
“Seriously?” Gabi asked, gripping my hand tighter. “Why do they think you moved? Did you tell them you moved together?”
Et tu, best friend?I was wrong. I was going to spiral. “They don’t know I moved. It’s not like they need to mail anything to me.” I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see my friends’ disappointment in me.
Instead, I felt their arms around me.
“It’s okay, Care,” Summer whispered. “Maybe it’s for the best that you tell them in person.”
“I agree,” Gabi said. “But I think you should do it immediately, as soon as you show up at their house without Riley. Get ahead of the questions so you’ll be in control of the conversation.” It sounded like very lawyerly advice.
I leaned into her. “Thanks, counselor.
“But maybe,” she continued in her gentlest best-friend voice, “don’t drop all the bad news on them at once. Especially not on Christmas Eve.”
“Agreed,” Summer said. “And as soon as you finish the Riley announcement, tell them about something positive.”
That would be the decision I’d made to finally take Dad up on his offer to put me in touch with accounting firms in the area. With my undergrad degree and his help, I would probably be a productive member of society by the end of January. At which point, I would have to announce to my friends that I’d finally decided to sell out in the interest of paying my bills, relegating my artist heart to follow its bliss on weekends only. They would be disappointed, but I was getting used to letting people down. At least my parents would finally be able to understand what I did for a living and Dad could stop sending me worried texts about the abysmal state of my barely existent retirement account.
“She has great news to share,” Gabi said.
I glanced at her, wondering how she knew what I was planning and why she seemed so happy about it.
She nudged my arm. “The juried exhibition. HerMother Treesculpture won third place!”
“Cara, you’ve been holding out on me!” Summer hugged me. “Wait, you told Gabi and not me?”
“She didn’t tell me,” Gabi said, giving me side-eye. “But like all good friends, I have a Google alert set on her.”
“It was only third place,” I said. “The prize money barely covered the cost of entering the contest and transporting the piece back and forth.”
“Stop it,” Summer chastised. “There were more than forty pieces by other professional artists in that show and your piece won out above thirty-seven of them. That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”
“Thank you.” I truly did appreciate her kind words because I knew she and Gabi always meant the things they said about me. Someday, I hoped I would live up to their high opinions of me.
“Wait,” Summer said, “doesn’t the gallery usually receive a lot of bids for the winning pieces? Does this mean you sold it, too?”
“No,” I answered. “They sold the winning piece and are considering a few bids for the runner-up piece.” I shrugged, trying to convey a nonchalance I didn’t feel because in truth, I was heartbroken. “But despite my white ribbon, there were no offers forMother Tree. It’s all for the best because it’s based on my mom’s life, so I want her to have it.”
