“I—I—I got in,” I blurt.
“Got into what?”
“The—the—the big cat sanctuary. I got in. I finally got in.”
There’s a half-second of silence.
Then Ashton screams. Like, actually screams.
“You’re kidding me. You’re kidding me. You’re not kidding me. Oh my God, Ella!”
I laugh, breathless. “I’m not kidding.”
“This is huge. This iseverything. You’ve wanted this forever.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“Okay, I’m done at the bakery in a bit. I’m coming over. We’re celebrating. You’re going. We’ll figure it out. Your mom can help me. You arenotturning this down.”
I smile, real and wide, for the first time in days. “Okay.”
“Okay?” she repeats. “No.Yes.I’ll see you soon.”
True to her word, Ashton shows up ready for war.
“Put on something cute,” she announces. “We’re going out.”
I hesitate. “I don’t know if I’m really in a?—”
“You’re going to be gone for weeks,” she says. “I’m going to miss you. And you’re celebrating whether you want to or not.”
So we go.
The bar is loud and warm, smelling like too many perfumes layered on top of each other. Ashton orders for both of us and refuses to take no for an answer. We laugh. We drink. I try—really try—to let myself feel this.
At some point, Ashton nudges my arm.
“Three o’clock,” she says. “Blondie. Definitely coming over.”
I don’t even have time to protest before he’s there.
He’s tall, with an easy smile and a confidence that feels practiced. “Hi. I’m Adam.”
“Ella,” I say.
“Mind if I join you?”
Ashton is already scooting over. “We were just saying we needed someone to buy us drinks.”
He laughs and signals the bartender like it’s muscle memory.
Ashton excuses herself to the restroom, leaving me alone with him.
We talk. He’s nice. Normal. Works in finance. Recently moved to the city. The kind of guy who knows how to make small talk feel like something more.
Then his phone lights up on the bar.
He glances at it and smiles, the expression softening in a way that’s different from everything else about him.
