“I knew they’d ask for an interview,” Harlow says. “When is it?”
“Next Monday.” I laugh again, not caring that the tears are falling freely now. This is all too surreal. Something I’m not sure I could make up in my wildest dreams, and every hour I’ve ever put into my work feels as if it’s coming to fruition. Like I’m finally getting the recognition I know I deserve. “I can’t believe they’re interested in talking to me.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Mia sniffs and reaches for a tissue. “You’re going to be a star.”
“She’s already a star. Her videos from Hurricane Claudia have three million views and counting,” Harlow adds.
Plus, the hundreds of comments wondering when Sebastian will be back on The Rainy Day Show. Every time I log on to social media, there are more and more messages asking for a collaboration with him. Someone made an edit of the two of us, a cinematic mashup of footage from our failed tornado chase and Claudia coverage they put together.
When I sent it to Sebastian, he answered with a dozen grinning emojis and the link to some song fromMission Impossible.
“I don’t want to celebrate a milestone prematurely.” I drop my head against the curve of the couch. The ceiling fan oscillates above me, and I smile again. “But this calls for a night out. Right?”
“Hell yeah it does.” Mia spins in her chair, squealing. “You’re not allowed to sit at home by yourself tonight.”
“There’s a dive bar in Orlando. I know one of the bartenders,” Harlow says. “Cheap drinks. Good vibes. The perfect place to have a noncelebration celebration. First round is on me.”
“Okay, but I call dibs on the second and third rounds,” Mia argues. “I’m so proud of you, Quin.”
“Yeah.” Warmth settles in my chest. Happiness pulses through me. “I’m proud of me too.”
“The bartender gave me these drinks for free. He said something about cinnamon and bourbon, and it sounded delicious. Very Christmas in July.” Mia sets three glasses in the center of our table and drops in her seat, patting my thigh. “Not all of us are summer girls, Quin. Some of us like winter.”
“Hey. I like winter too. A big sweatshirt? Fuzzy socks? It’s a magical time of year.”
“A toast.” Harlow lifts her glass, and we mirror her. “To Quincy: The best meteorologist I’ve ever met. You’re smart. You’re kind. You’re a revolutionary, babe, and more deserving of that job than anyone else. I can’t wait to see you knock them dead.”
“Job or no job, it doesn’t matter. We’re never going to stop being proud of you,” Mia adds. “We’re so lucky to be your friends.”
“Wow.” A watery laugh escapes me. I take a sip of the spiced alcohol to keep my emotions at bay. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry again today. Y’all are making that impossible.”
“I didnotsign up to shed a tear. Knock it off with this sappy shit. We love you. We’re proud of you, and you’ll let us know how next week goes.” She fans her face, only stopping to take a handful of nuts from the porcelain ramekin we’ve been snacking on. “Can we talk about something else? My chest feels too tight.”
“That’s called being human, sweetie.” I reach across the table and find her hand. I squeeze her palm once, smiling when she squeezes me back. “But, yes. Please. I’m not wearing waterproof mascara. We can talk about how this drink is good, but yours would be so much better, Har.”
“I’d add an orange peel as a garnish.” She takes a small sip. “Yup. Definitely needs something else.”
“See? You’re amazing. I wouldn’t be able to tell you what ingredients are in here while you can make twenty different drinkswith vermouth.” I laugh. “Also, I have a bone to pick with you, Mia Dunn.”
“What did I do?” she asks.
“You want to celebrate me, but we need to celebrate you too. When were you going to tell us you signed a new three-book deal worthseven figures?” I ask. “That isincredible.”
“Mia!” Harlow gapes at her. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry! The only time I checked my phone today was when you FaceTimed me, and I forgot that post was going live on social media this afternoon. I didn’t tell you all because I’m always so … nervous, I guess, that things won’t pan out. Book deals get announced all the time, but until it’s a sure thing, until I walk into a bookstore and find the physical copy there, it’s hard to believe it’s true.”
“Of course it’s true. You’re immensely talented, and I’m not saying that because you’re my friend. I’m saying it because I absolutely believe it,” I tell her.
“You’re the only person who could get me to read a romance novel,” Harlow adds. “That’s how good your books are.”
“You’re going to make me blush. Thank you. With every book that comes out, I thinkthiswill be the one that ends my career because it’s not good enough. Because it won’t sell or people will hate it. Six books later, and I still can’t believe this is my job.”
“I can’t wait to have an entire shelf dedicated to Mia Dunn bestsellers.” I grin. “The signed copies you send me are my most prized possessions.”
“You know I’m grateful for your support, but can we talk about how that guy four tables over hasn’t stopped staring at Quincy since we walked in?” Mia scoots her stool closer, her elbows resting on the table. “He’s cute.”
“Which one?” Harlow cranes her neck, letting out a hum of approval. “Heiscute.”
