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This girl is worth more than you’ll ever be. It’s too bad you can’t use all that money to buy some class.

Glorious, and yet so mortifying. I had never loved Ravi more, but I didn’t want Cam to know how much power his words held over me. Why did his good opinion matter so much to my teenage self?

Why did it still matter?

“We all grew up,” Ravi muttered. “He isn’t the same idiot he was in high school.” He glanced at me. “Just like you’re not the girl who cries over some boy’s thoughtless words anymore.”

I swallowed and made a show of folding my napkin just so.

“Right?” he said a little too loud.

“Of—of course.” My voice was hoarse, so I reached for my wine again.

Maribel shimmied her shoulders. “That’s settled then. No one will cry or ravish anyone on any desks. Though that last one is optional.”

Ravi grimaced.

“Anyway!” I straightened my spine. “I already did my calculations. With the salary they discussed, I can be out of your guest room in three months.”

“It’s no rush, Shay,” he said. “It’s actually nice having you around again.”

“Agreed.” Maribel picked up her plate and took it to the sink. “It’s like I got a new best friend.”

I rose quickly to shoo Maribel from the sink. “I’ll do the dishes. We’ve been best friends for years, Maribel. That’s not new.”

She grabbed a rag instead to wipe down the counters. The girl had boundless energy. “I know. But you haven’t lived here in forever, Shay. Everything’s going to be different now.”

Six

The following Monday, I donned my least ratty dress pants, a satin pinstripe blouse from Walmart, and my black pointed-toe flats I’d Sharpied to hide the scuffs. After a spritz of vanilla cypress perfume, I drove to my new place of employment forty-five minutes earlier than I needed to. I found an open spot on Main Street just in time to watch a clerk in Anne’s Bakery flip the sign on the door to CLOSED.

My shoulders fell. They sold out at 7:45 a.m.? The universe clearly didn’t want me to have a blueberry muffin.

Instead, I popped into the coffee shop a few doors down. A quick perusal of a menu full of fancy flavored drinks was mere torture since I could only splurge for a tall regular coffee. Even doctored with sugar and cream, it couldn’t compare to a caramel macchiato.

I suffered in silence.

With over thirty minutes to spare, I made my way to the storefront of Henley Distillery. Through the windows, darkness greeted me. I tried one door, but it didn’t budge. My heart fluttered uncomfortably when I pulled at a second door. Locked.

Deep breath.

This was fine.

At half an hour before the workday started, no one else had likely arrived to unlock them. Or…it was all some elaborate prank to screw with me.

I sat on the iron bench near the curb and unwisely sipped my caffeine-laden drink, brewing a storm of anxiety in my chest. Late on the first day? I’d be fired, surely. Glancing over my shoulder, I found no evidence that a single soul had yet entered the building. That fact didn’t change even though I checked every three seconds.

My knee bounced. My fingers tapped on my paper coffee cup, now empty.

At 8:28, I tried the doors again, as if some magic would have unbolted the locks. Nope.

At 8:35, I remembered Ivy gave me her number and whipped out my phone.

“Hello?” she said on the third ring.

I forced some brightness into my voice to hide the apprehension. “Hi, Ivy. It’s Shay. I’ve been outside for a while, but the doors are still locked.”

“Oh, shoot. Did I not tell you? There’s an employee entrance ’round back.”