“Yes, madame.” Dorothy creaks to a stand, reaches out, and hands me her half-smoked joint.
“Refer to me as your sidekick again, Dorothy, and I will sidekick you out of bed.” Malika looks over at me. “Night, Grant.”
“Night, you two.”
I watch them go in together, to sleep. To live. To be a couple. Two such different people from entirely different backgrounds who make each other happy.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I scramble with the joint and the phone, pull it out, and read a new text from my mom.
Mom: Sorry it’s late. Wanted to say you are right. You are right and I am so sorry. I broke it off with Henri tonight. I’m… being single.
And just like that, my entire perspective shifts.
If Mom can be single for the first time in forty years… maybe… What if…?
I stare at the joint in my hand, consider finishing it off, and decide I’ve got way too much to do if I’m gonna do this right.
I stomp down into the tiny front garden and put the joint out in the dirt before standing and looking up at the sky again. From here, I can see a few stars. Not the millions that blinked in the sky above our canoe that night, but a few. Enough to show me the way.
Perspective. That’s what I was missing. Well, that and themotivation to change. Now, somehow, in the few weeks since I met Rae, I realize exactly how much she gave me of both.
She changed my life. Changed my whole world. Why couldn’t I see it? Or at the very least admit it?
My perspective was off, that’s all. Now I’ve got to show her that I’m worth taking back. Worth loving. That’s all.
Please, I think, staring up at the only three stars twinkling hard enough to cut through the city’s glare,please, don’t let it be too late.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Rae
NOVEMBER
EVERY YEAR FOR ASlong as I can remember, I’ve come to the Harvest Festival Market as a customer. The day I left Sugar, I signed up for a slot to sell book nooks here, but even before today, I was all sold out. In fact, business is absolutely booming. It’s been less than two months, and I’m already making what I made full-time. Plus, I get to pick my projects, work from home, and not think about Grant day in and day out.
The biggest miracle is that, thanks to a big social media influencer who took an interest in my work, not only did I break a couple hundred thousand followers almost overnight, but I’m officially booked out for the next eighteen months. The down payments on those alone filled my savings account right up.
But one of the promises I made myself when I left Sugar was to make sure to get out of the house. I know how easy it can be to stay stuck inside, cozy and warm with my little worlds. The fact is that I like people. I just don’t want to be at their beck and call.
“These are adorable. How much is this one?” A woman’s standing at my table, arms full of shopping bags from the variousvendors. Her clothing says Old Richmond Money as clearly as her hair and face.
“Oh, sorry.” I point at the little sign leaning up against the finished Carytown building model, featuring the miniature Off the Cuff and Sugar. Beside it is a book nook I made with my parents, my sisters, and me singing around the Christmas tree. It’s our last Christmas together before Mom died. I will never sell either one. They’re like time capsules of times I never, ever want to forget. “These are not for sale. I’m commission-only now.”
“That’s a shame. I’ve got a friend on the architectural board who would love a Richmond original.”
“Please give them my card.” I hand it over.
“Listen, I need one of these. My daughter follows you on TikTok. She’s obsessed. I really would love to order one. Or two? Could you do me two?”
“I’m booked up.” Even now, refusing people isn’t easy. “But feel free to reach out, and I’ll add you to the wait list.”
“I’ll triple your price. Quadruple it.”
Okay, this is wild. I swallow back the urge to capitulate and smile. “No. Thank you.” Saying those words is like a drug. I swear. I hand her the clipboard with my interest form. “Go ahead and sign up here. I’ll reach out when commissions open up again.”
“Wow.” She gives me a disgruntled look, and I’m convinced she’ll walk away without signing up, but then she doesn’t. Instead, she fills in the form, thanks me, and leaves.
The power of saying no. It astounds me every day.
