I hunch my over. “Sorry.”
“Va' a cagare!Cecelia, don’t be sorry! Just… why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
“No, it’s not! I let Oliv—I mean, some random British fuckbag— ruin my life, then cried about it to you for months! While crashing at your house! That’s embarrassing!”
We look at one another, then both make the sign of the cross at the almost-mention of Name Forever Redacted’s name.
Ada narrows her gaze. “What else haven’t you told me?”
After everything that’s happened, I’m already raw to the bone, and there’s no point hiding the last thing in the recesses of my mind. The truth I haven’t been brave enough to admit, even to myself. I take a small sip of gin and let the words tumble out.“I don’t wanna run a bar.”
I want to grab the sentence and stuff it back into my mouth, but it’s too late. It’s out now, unignorable and devastatingly true.
Ada’s brow bunches. “Then why the fuck are you running a bar?”
“You know why! I wanted out of nursing, and it just came up, and I thought maybe I could make it mine. And Idowant to run a business. Just… not this one.” I gesture in the direction of the kitchen, praying it—and my dead godfather—will forgive me.
“So, what do you want?”
Her question echoes Davis’s. And tonight, with the aid of copious amounts of gin, I relent. “I want to turn Afterglow into an urban hotel. Like the one we stayed in in Delphi.”
Ada’s face softens. “That place was magical.”
“It was.”
Omphalos House was a small building, not super expensive but gorgeous. Every detail wasluxuriously thought out; soft sheets, a perfectly stocked mini bar, and the kind of dim lighting that made you feel like a princess. It was a place that welcomed you back to safety and comfort after a day of getting sunburnt in ancient ruins and crying in museums.
“I want that here. In Auckland,” I whisper like the universe is about to slap me. “There’s enough stuff nearby for tourists, theLord of the Ringsthings, wine tours, galleries. And I think…”
“You think?” Ada presses.
“... I think I’d be good at it. Better than I am at pouring espresso martinis for finance bros, anyway.”
“You’d be amazing,” Ada says fiercely. “Just like you’re amazing at pouring espresso martinis for finance bros, but fuck those guys. So, how do we get you that hotel?”
Gratitude punches the air out of my lungs, and I blink back another wave of gin-based tears. “Thanks. Seriously. But just running this place nearly broke me. Hotels are a whole different world. My landlord would have to agree to the change in industry. I’d need a loan for renovations, a business plan, aclue. And what bank’s gonna lend me money when my finances look like that house-on-fire‘This is fine’meme?”
Ada stares straight ahead, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Well, maybe you don’t go to a bank. Maybe there’s another way?”
I stare blearily at her. “Addy, there’s no way I’m taking your money.”
“I’m not offering. But what about an angel investor?”
“Like who? The guy who pissed himself in the back booth last Thursday?”
“No. Someone else. I’m serious. There are a lot of good people out there.”
My guts squeeze tight, my usual optimism on hold. After everything that’s happened—Jake and Ada fucking like rabbits, the thing with Davis, Lisa being a thieving bitch—being honest about my dream terrifies me the most.
And of course, Ada is being supportive. She loves me. She’ll do anything to support me. But that’s the scary bit. By saying it aloud,I’ve made it real. My dream has legs now. It’s walking around in someone else’s mind, and the fact of that is terrifying. Now, every time I bitch about Afterglow, Ada will be thinking, ‘Why don’t you just run an urban hotel?’ She’s never been afraid to shoot big; she went toJuilliard, for God’s sake. And she’s never failed professionally, either. Even now, crashing in my spare room, she’s still raking in royalties without so much as cracking open her flute case. I don’t know if it’s ever occurred to her that she could fail at her chosen career. Maybe her confidence is the reason she hasn’t. I don’t know. But I do know that if I try to turn Afterglow into a hotel and fail, it would break my heart worse than Will Sharpe ever could.
“It’s a pipe dream, Addy,” I say into my empty glass. “Let’s focus on things we can control, yeah?”
“Okay,” Ada says. “Want to get drunk and listen to Fiona Apple?”
The mention of our old wallow music makes me smile. “Why not? Not like I can head back behind the bar in the state I’m in.”
