It’s no Cheesecake Factory, but there are still too many options for someone with a severe case of FOMO. I expected to have a minute, not a paperless waitress taking no notes. Damn her for being so good at her job.
I abandon the menu. “What do you recommend?”
“Our most popular are the burrata, crispy calamari, or the lounge burger.”
“I’ll take all three,” I announce, snapping my menu shut and handing it to her.
“Well, okay then! I’ll have those out shortly.”
My hand is halfway to my drink when I catch Emma and Julia’s entertained expressions.
“I’m going to miss living with you,” Julia says first.
“And Quinn’s going toloveliving with you,” Emma says second.
Not everyone finds the kind of friendship where you feel seen and validated exactly as you are. It’s a special kind of love. One that I feel lucky to have found in Jules and now Emma.
21
EVERETT
“You’re doing me a big favor, you know.” Julia grunts, offloading a gaping box in the back end of Summer’s SUV. I give it a shove, wedging it in the tight space before trapping the pile of belongings behind the liftgate.
“Why’s that?”
“Do you know how much coffee creamer that woman goes through in a week?” Julia scrubs her palms on her jeans. “The Rhett Dawson franchise might need to take out stock in Dairy Farmers of America.”
I chuckle. It takes the edge off the nerves that have been ricocheting around my abdomen for the better part of a week. Apprehension that has nothing to do with Summer moving in and everything to do with the tracks I sent Todd a couple of hours ago.
What will the label think of them?
Will they ask what they’re about?
Do I care if they do?
I’m trying not to let those unanswered questions consume my every thought. Instead, I focus on Julia’s comment and the note it reminds me of in my phone. The one I titledSummer’sFavorite Things. I’m not sure why I made it when I know I won’t forget them, even if I wanted to. Hazelnut creamer is at the top followed by pink peonies and candied pecans.
“Anything else I should know?”
“Well, now that you ask…” Julia opens her hand, palm facing up, and keeps tally on her fingers. “She sleeps barefoot, loves music, thinks toxic TV dramas make great Friday night entertainment, has a hundred dreams swirling around her head at any given moment, and she’s the best friend I’ve ever had. Break her heart, and I’ll send a fleet of reporters to your doorstep.” She nods her head with a closed-mouth smile and folded arms.
“Thanks for the warning,” I say, even if that’s the least threatening thing anyone has ever thrown my way.
A part of me feels guilty for taking Summer away from her best friend. But not as much as I am relieved that she said yes to this in the first place. I’ve not had another breakdown in my studio, but it’s bringing me so much peace knowing she’ll be there for Quinn if I ever do.
“What are you two whispering about out here?” A hot-pink suitcase topples over on the uneven cobblestone walkway behind Summer. She rights it with the kick of her foot, hauling it toward us.
I shove my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels. “Julia was just warning me about how you sing my songs in your sleep.”
Summer’s head snaps in Julia’s direction. “You’re dead to me. I think I’ll save my goodbye for Henry.” She jerks her luggage in a clunky one-hundred-and eighty-degree turn back toward the front door.
“Does he know about the shirt though? I might need to add that to the list,” Julia teases.
“Dead to me!” Summer hollers over her shoulder.
Henry hands her a pillow—the last item left in the entryway. “Are you going to marry Rhett Dawson?”
“Wh-what?” Summer chokes out a cough.
