That was what I liked most about Nessa. She was fiercely protective of her friends and family, but also respected their boundaries. Maybe if I had had better boundaries with my parents, they would still be in my life.
"Please."
"I know I'm not the bastion of romantic relationships, but I've had my fair share—and not just fictional ones, at that." She winked. "So, I can tell you with my full chest that life is hard. Relationships are complicated at best. Loving somebody though? That's the easy part. People are made to be loved, so if you find somebody that makes life a little bit easier and that you don't mind waking up next to every morning, they might be worth the fight."
She was right. My relationship with Walden had always felt more like a business arrangement, one with a strict timeline and measurable goals. With Soren, it was about the things we wanted and supporting each other to make them happen. It was about listening just to listen, not to respond. There wasn't any kind of competition or envy or image to maintain.
It was just him and me. Just us. And if that wasn't worth fighting for, I didn't know what was.
"Are you a fighter, Clarke?" Nessa asked. "Because I'm going to be honest, I don't think Brogan and his army of demons are going to give up anytime soon."
I snorted, grateful for the sudden tone shift. It was the gentle nudge I needed to remind myself that while I appreciated my friends' love and support, I owed them the same. Friendship was a two-way street. Until I repaired things with Soren—and even after that—they deserved my time and attention, too.
"Good thing I have a shield, then." I lifted my drink toward the ceiling. "And one hell of a coven by my side."
There wasn't a patron at the tavern that missed the, "Huzzah!" that rang out.
The next day, I beat Dani to the office with an oat milk, chai latte in tow.
"I owe you an apology," I said in lieu of our usual greeting. I handed her the drink.
"What for?"
"For acting like a zombie all week."
Understanding dawned across her bronze complexion. "You don't have to apologize for that. I kind of figured something might be going on when you showed up on Monday wearing no makeup and were fifty shades of gray."
A small smile tugged at my lips. She was right. I had been dressing on the drabber side as of late.
"Soren and I hit a road bump."
"Okay." She kicked back in her chair, resting her boots on the top of her desk. "And?"
"And I'm hoping that we can get past it because I think he might be the love of my life."
Her eyes widened. "Well, that's good to hear." She took another gulp of her latte before adding, "Even if it means I owe Pink twenty bucks."
"Sorry?"
She sat up and set her drink aside. Whereas I kept my desktop relatively bare, save for some brightly colored stationary and sticky notes, Dani's desk was littered with knick-knacks, empty cups, and framed photos of her and her loved ones.
"Don't be mad," she pleaded, "but Pink and I had a bet going on whether you and Sinclair were just a fling or something more."
"And you bet against us?"Ouch.
"No, I bet against love," she said, very matter-of-fact. "And believe me, that has more to do with my insecurities than anything else."
It was hard to imagine Dani Bernal having insecurities of any kind. Then again, you never knew what was going on inside of somebody.
"Actually, I've come to realize that you and Sinclair might be perfect for each other."
"Thanks, boss."
"Knock knock," a chipper voice cooed from the office door, almost in singsong.
It wasn't unusual for Pink to visit our office. He and Dani often met for lunch when their schedules aligned. In fact, they had decided to move in together—as roommates and roommates only—so lately, their lunch dates had involved pouring over long-term rental listings in the area. Apparently, Pink was coming around to the idea of living in Rose City.
I wonder what—or who—changed his mind.
