“Because that car is a piece of shit and a death trap, but there’s no world where she should have let me cover the updates needed or even pay for them all herself at once. So when I found out her car was in his shop, I asked Miles to do what needed to be done and bill me for it, and then tell her it was just a few things.”
“I would have done it anyway,” Miles says, a smile on his lips. “She’s my best friend’s little sister, but I figured I might as well make some money for the shop while I was at it.”
Grant stares at me as if he’s unsure if he approves or absolutely hates me. “What else have you done?” Might as well put it all out on the table.
“I got her favorite donuts every day the first week she worked at Daytrip.” He nods, as if he noticed. “And I helped her find four-leaf clovers. I got her concert tickets.” I decidenotto tell him about the job, at least until Sutton spills it.
That can be a concern for another day.
“And she knows nothing about this?” I give him a tight look.
“Not unless one of you tells her.” He stares at me for long moments, the room silent except for the booming bass. I become painfully aware that I’m the odd man out here, that we’re in a room with all of his friends, and if he hit me, they would all defend him. Hell, they’d probably pitch in.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he surprises me.
“You’re why she started leaning into art, aren’t you?” he asks. I shake my head.
“That was Claire and Lainey,” I say. He looks at me as if he doesn’t buy it in the least.
“They’ve been trying to get her to open that shop for years. It never happened. It was you.”
I sigh. “I made her feel lucky by making sure she found a four-leaf clover. She saw it as a sign that she should put her shop live. When I realized she actually did it, I also bought the first piece from her shop, which, I'll admit, I think made her believe in herself and start actually promoting it. But the rest was all her.” Grant stares at me, then nods. His jaw goes firm, one final test, I think.
“The proposal for your boss—did you set that up?” I shake my head quickly.
“No. That was all her. Rowan saw potential because he has an eye for talent.”
His face shifts, and he sighs. “You’re good for her,” Grant says, begrudgingly. “This summer has been good for her. When she quit, I was nervous because she was giving up everything she knew, everything she worked for, but I saw fast enough she was only teaching because she thought she was supposed to. She was always supposed to chase art, but I think I talked so much shit about it, she didn’t even think of it as a real option. I feel bad for that. I don’t know how much she’s told you about our parents, but they weren’t the best, and that fucked with me, but it isn’t June’s fault. I’m glad she has you helping her realize what she’s meant to be doing, because burning herself out with teaching wasn’t it.”
I nod, relief rushing into me like cold water at what sounds almost like approval.
But then a smile spreads on his lips, and he tips his drink to me.
“But when she finds out, good luck. She’s going to have your balls.”
THIRTY-FIVE
It’s the best birthday ever.
I was never the type to daydream about big parties and celebrations, but if I had ever allowed myself to, this is what I would have imagined—chaos, luxury, life, luck, and all of my favorite people enjoying it with me. I can’t stop smiling as the girls and I move to the center of the dance floor, Claire and I screaming along to the song that, in college, we determined wasour song. The four of us dance to a handful of more songs, giggling and grinding on one another before Claire tugs my hand.
“Sutton’s gotta use the bathroom,” she yells, tipping her head toward the edge of the club. I nod, grabbing Lainey’s hand, the four of us moving to the bathroom together in a line so as not to get separated. When we enter, the bathroom is surprisingly empty, a small blessing, and blissfully quieter once the door closes on us. Claire and I stand at the mirrors, waiting for Lainey and Sutton to be done.
“You having a good time?” Claire asks, giving me a wide smile.
“The best,” I say, my eyes drifting shut, the liquor in my veins making me feel warm and light, the unfettered joy of being out with my favorite people only improving that.
“I don’t know the last time I’ve seen you let go this much,” she says with a laugh. “You seem…freer.”
“I’m happy,” I say, and I mean it. “Everything really is working out for me. Today’s been amazing. I have the hottest boyfriend,” I say, with a giggle. “And I’m figuring out what I want to do with my life.”
“So you don’t want to teach anymore?”
I lift a shoulder.
It’s the first time I’ve actually thought about it in weeks, the fact that in a year, I’ll have the option to go back to teaching. The thought of going back makes that dread creep back in, though. The liquor makes my tongue looser, confessing.
