She laughed, but it wasn’t totally genuine. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m glad you did.” At the absolute panic in her eyes, I added, “Listen, I’m pissed. But I’m not going to say anything.” At least not yet. I was definitely going to save this for a future moment when I could drop it like an atom bomb and make sure there were multiple casualties. Maybe that was sadistic. But I thought of it more sisterly than anything else.
Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Okay.”
When she took a step back, I threw out a quick but stern, “Don’t say anything to Charlie though. He would definitely murder Will. He wouldn’t even hesitate. And I don’t have time to deal with that drama.” After a beat of silence, I added, “Or a prison sentence as an accessory.”
This time when she smiled, it was genuine. “Duh, I’m not a total idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot at all.” I held her gaze. “Especially when it comes to Charlie.”
She turned around and started to walk off, but not before she threw out an oh-so casual, “Wrong. I’m a special brand of idiot when it comes to Charlie.”
Her tone was just sharp enough for her meaning to remain a mystery. I was reasonably confident they used to hook up. But these days, she could hardly tolerate looking at him. Which was the way it went with most of Charlie’s exes.
Whatever she meant by being a special kind of idiot when it came to Charlie, I knew this secret was safe with her.
Meanwhile, what was I supposed to do with it?
I pulled out my phone and clicked the contact before I figured out what I was going to say. Jonah was my closest friend in the whole world. But he wasn’t always my closest confidant. There were some things a girl couldn’t share with a man who was also best friends with her brother.
Claire Swift answered on the third ring. Per usual, she didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Do you know what drives me absolutely nuts?” She didn’t wait for my reply or hello. “Grown adults who don’t know how to operate a four-way stop. It’s not a hard concept. But I swear, either they sit there and sit there and sit there and confuse every single car or they think they’re God’s gift to driving, and no matter whose turn it is, they just gun it. My kindergartners could figure this out better than most adults.”
My mood instantly shifted from panicked fury to mildly amused. Claire had that power with everyone. She was serious and focused almost all of the time. Still, she also had this angry chipmunk mode that was highly entertaining. “I’ve found that kindergartners are almost always better at the things adults should know by now. Sharing, empathy, compassion, taking a nap when needed.”
“You know, you’re not wrong.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Sometimes I miss it so much it hurts. What am I doing with my life, Eliza?”
She’d switched from four-way-stop rage to her current career fear as abruptly as usual. I raced to catch up, but this was a well-trodden conversation, and I knew exactly what to say. “You’re following your dreams, Claire-bear. You’re taking control of your future.”
Her pause was silent. I pictured her on the other end of the phone, hair pulled up into a high ponytail, cheeks flushed red and puffed out as she held her breath. She was just finishing school for the day, so she probably wore a dirty chef’s coat covered in flour and smudged with frosting. My friend was fierce and beautiful but going through a lot. We had this conversation at least once a day. Sometimes as many times as it took to convince her to stay the course.
Claire and I had met through our mutual circle of chef friends. Claire’s sister, Kaya, ran one of Ezra Baptiste’s restaurants, Sarita. Kaya and Will were friends, and on one of our Sunday nights out, Claire tagged along with Kaya. I’d happened to sit by her during a Korean/Soul Food fusion meal where our friends ordered nearly everything on the menu. We passed plates family-style until we were stuffed to the gills and the last people in the restaurant.
Claire had just moved to Durham to live with her sister. She’d fled her small hometown to escape a bad engagement, a job she hated, and a life that felt prefabbed. We’d bonded over being the least food-educated people in the room, annoying siblings, and our love of true crime podcasts. Our friendship had grown exponentially in the past three years as we both stepped into uncertain careers—me into a fledgling bar and small business ownership, and Claire as she enrolled in pastry school and learned to live on her own for the first time in her entire life.
Our friendship gave me life. And joy.
All at once, she pushed her breath out. “Okay. You’re right. Okay.”
“Also, you hate children.”
She laughed. “I don’t hate them. I just... don’t really like them. But anyway, you didn’t call to deal with all my problems.”
“I love dealing with your problems,” I told her sincerely. “They’re so much worse than mine.”
This time her laughter burst out of her like a shotgun. “You bitch!”
“You know it’s true.”
“All right then.” She snickered. “Tell me your lesser problems.”
It was my turn to sigh. And it was a heavy one. Long and drawn-out and with a direct line to my bones. “Ada was just in here. She said she overheard Will asking Lola advice about opening a second bar and wanting to talk to a real estate agent.”
“A second bar? That could be a good thing.”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m just not sure if he’ll include Charlie and me. This feels like something he wants to do on his own.”
“Have you asked him about it?”
