Page 301 of Rush

I jab her in the ribs. “I’m so grateful you’re here.”

“Me too.”

The words settle between us easily. The kind of comfort that only comes from years of knowing someone in all your messy, unfiltered versions.

For a while we just lie there in silence, watching the patterns above us twist into shapes our tipsy brains invent.

“So,” Riley says eventually, “when you win your clean-sweep at the Grammys, what’s next for you?”

I huff out a laugh. “Well, first I still owe the label two more albums.”

“Minor detail.”

“But after that…” I pause, surprising myself with the thought. “I think I’d like to travel.”

“Travel, travel? Or rich-people-say-they-travel but actually just go to the Hamptons?”

“Actualtravel.” I turn my head toward her. “I’ve never met my family in the Philippines. My mom used to talk about them all the time. Apparently there’s some full-blown telenovela drama in that family history.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah. Betrayals. Feuds. Long-lost siblings. The whole thing.”

“I’m obsessed already.”

“But my mom’s sister might still be alive,” I say quietly. “I think I’d like to meet her. See where Mom grew up.”

Riley’s eyes widen behind her sheet mask.

“That would be wild,” she says. “So when do we fly out?”

I laugh. “Straight after award season.”

“Two babes leaving all this behind for sand, beaches, and cocktails?” she says.

“Yes please.”

“Sold.”

She turns her head toward me.

“What about you, Miss Fisher? What’s next for the world’s most talented artist?”

“Therapy.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “You’re joking right?”

She peels one edge of her mask loose and shrugs.

“I’m serious, you know I’ve dealt with some pretty fucked-up stuff in my life,” she says simply. “And I think I hurt Luca and I didn’t want to.”

“Because you like him.”

“Because he’s good,” she says. “And I think I might have ruined it.”

“So you’re ready to commit?” I ask. “To Luca?”

She wrinkles her nose.