“It says,Look how far you’ve come.”
“Bring it out!” someone says from a booth. Before long, everyone in Pinkies, Jessie’s ex-lover’s bar in Greenwich Village, joins the chant. “Bring it out! Bring it out!”
Candles hang from the thirteen-foot molded ceiling in handblown glass spheres, barely illuminating the maroon and wood decor, the original marble floors, the crowd of people in the tiny establishment. Nelle thinks she hears Jessie and Lena’s voices above the others.
“Bring it out! Bring it out!”
Whiskey sour half lifted to his lips, James asks, “Are they all pumping their fists at me?”
They are, definitely, all pumping their fists at him. Nelle feels their supportive energy, but her body flinches at the thunder of voices.
“I think they want you to bring it out,” she says.
“Bringwhatout?” He shakes his head slowly. “My manuscript? I left it at home.”
Before he can fall into the depths of full-blown panic, a warm orange light swings around, and the people all part to form a path to James and Nelle. Their chant dissolves into cheers, which then fizzle out, too.
Jessie and Lena follow the path, carrying a fully lit cake. As they approach, Nelle sees the wordsThe Summer Curse by James Finchin blocky icing. The sides of the cake are decorated with a deckle edge.
“Holy shit,” Nelle says. “You guys made this?”
“We did,” Lena says.
Jessie doubles over. “AllIdid was sit at the counter and blow motivational kisses.”
“It’s perfect,” James says. Tears fill his eyes, shiny blue pebbles in the candlelight. “Thank you so much, Lena. Jessie. For the party, the cake, for letting us stay with you.” Nelle leans into the curve of his shoulder, his fingers on her wrist. “I don’t know when, but I’ll be back. For good. Don’t worry, though, I’ll get my own place.”
Nelle’s pulse thumps into the pad of James’s thumb. Where will she be then? With him? Cast aside somewhere? She can’t imagine him abandoning her, but she can’t force him to stay and write for her forever. Only Quill was willing to do that.
Jessie snivels. “Live with me if you want.” She presses her teary lashes into her balled-up sleeve. “I don’t care. I love having you here.Bothof you.”
“Okay, okay,” James laughs, “but eventually I’ll get my own place.”
“Sure,” Jessie says. “And contrary to what I said about wanting you to stay with me forever, I’m sending you away.”
She holds out an envelope. James accepts it like it might explode.
“What did you do?” He hooks his thumb under the paper lip and peels it open. Two tickets slide into his hand.
Nelle reads the blocky text.JFK To CDG.
“Is this what I think it is?” James asks hoarsely.
Jessie shrugs.
“Oh my God.” He practically falls on her with a lanky bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Nelle squints at the paper with all its unrecognizable abbreviated jargon. “What is it we’re thankful for?”
“Don’t worry, my vision’s shit, too,” Lena says, light catching her pearlescent teeth and silver earrings. “I refuse to wear glassesorstick my fingers in my eyes. They’re tickets to Paris, babe. Your flight leaves tomorrow.”
“Myflight?” Nelle takes in the cake and its crowd of flickering candles, the bar and its crowd of sweaty revelers, the plane tickets clutched like gold in James’s fist. Her heart skips.
Lena lifts a Polaroid camera. “Get together. One last picture before you go.”
James slinks an arm around Nelle, but his touch doesn’t feel right. They are heading off for two more weeks together, and they have barely spoken about what will come afterward. Or evenduring. He hinted that he wanted to kiss her, but it has been weeks since that first night on the rooftop, and he has donenothing. She was patient during his writing frenzy, but now with the congratulatory cake in front of her, she wants James’s feelings clarified.
She steps away before the photo is taken. “I want you and Jessie in it, too.”
