She's right. I've been terrible to my best friend.
"Seven PM," I agree. "Target Wait… why don’t you come to the house for dinner first? Then we can go to shopping afterwards."
"Sounds great as long as Miles is cooking." She pulls me into a hug. "I've been worried about you."
I laugh because she knows I can burn water when I put my mind to it. "Yes, I’ll have Miles cook us dinner. And I know I’ve been a terrible friend. I'm sorry."
"You better be prepared to spill everything tonight."
"We'll see."
The rest of the day is a blur of HR paperwork, reviewing files for my new associates who start tomorrow, and setting up my new workflow. According to their resumes, Sarah is sharp with an impressive track record. Tom is methodical with excellent attention to detail. They're going to be perfect.
By five PM, I'm actually done with work. Done. At five PM. This might be a record.
I head home, and Miles is already there, working on his laptop at the kitchen table.
"How was day one?" he asks.
"Good. Told Maggie. She's thrilled and already making plans to manage my life."
"Sounds about right."
"And Julie cornered me at Seaside Sweets. She knows about the merger and Celtic Knot, but not the pregnancy yet. She's coming for dinner at six."
He glances at the clock. "That's in an hour."
"I know. I'm making pasta. Help me?"
We work together in the kitchen, and it feels normal. Easy. Not like my life just completely changed.
Julie arrives at six sharp, carrying wine and a bakery box.
"I brought dessert," she announces. "And wine for me since you're apparently not drinking."
She notices immediately when I pour myself water instead of wine. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't comment. Yet.
We eat pasta and salad, talking about her bakery and the new espresso machine she's considering. Normal best friend conversation. But I can feel her watching me.
"So," she finally says. "Target?"
"Target."
We take separate cars and Julie meets me at Target when I arrive, pushing a cart and looking determined.
"Finally," she says. "I thought you were going to bail."
"I said I'd be here."
"You also said you'd return my calls last week."
"Fair point."
We wander through the store, Julie grabbing random things—candles, throw pillows, a cheese grater shaped like a hedgehog.
"Do you need a hedgehog cheese grater?" I ask.
"Need? No. Want? Absolutely."
