“Not until September. Their academic year starts late.”
“I’m jealous. My orientation begins in July.”
“Are youreallygoing to complain about that? After getting into your top-ranked residency?”
“This is why you need to move to New York. Who else is going to call me on my bullshit?”
“In a city of eight million people? I’m sure you’ll findsomeone.” A breeze swept through the back quad, rustling the dark leaves as Natalie shivered. Without saying a word, Jonathan slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“You should go to grad school in Hawaii; you’re always so cold.” Jonathan wrapped his arm around her, and every nerve ending in Natalie’s body crackled to life. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this—he was naturally physically affectionate—but his arm was lower this time, snug around her waist.
“Wait, isn’t Hawaii next to Alaska?” she asked with feigned confusion. First semester of freshman year, Jonathan had told her about a girl from high school who’d been befuddled by the map in their classroom.
“It’s been tough hanging out with people who don’t get any of my inside jokes.” He sighed and pulled her slightly closer to him. “I wish you were moving to New York.”
She stiffened and braced for the inevitable joke that would undercut the statement, but Jonathan was uncharacteristically still and silent. “That would be fun,” she said, careful not to meet his eye.
“It’d be the best.”
The moment passed, and a few minutes later, they drifted apart—Jonathan to find his friends, Natalie to finish packing for her early flight. But Jonathan’s words echoed through her head for the rest of the night. For the rest of the week. For the rest of the summer.
In July, she emailed the University of Edinburgh admissionsoffice, explaining that due to “unforeseen circumstances” she’d have to decline the scholarship and withdraw from the MFA program.
Two weeks after that, she was sleeping on her family friend’s couch in New York as she desperately hunted for a job. She didn’t tell Jonathan right away. She needed a watertight explanation, something he wouldn’t see through. Because if he had even the smallest inkling that she’d given up Scotland to follow him to New York, it’d be all over.
But then she’d gotten the tutoring job, and a few days later, she worked up the courage to send him an email. She told him how she’d decided that her heart was in publishing and so she’d deferred her acceptance to Edinburgh (a lie) in order to pursue her dream job (another lie—an editorial assistant gig was still out of the question, given the sixty thousand dollars she still owed in college loans, but Horatio Street Press had agreed to let her read submissions for them on weekends).
Jonathan had been surprised but thrilled, and for a while, they’d met up for dinner or drinks once a week. She’d even spent the holidays with him and his family in Philadelphia when she hadn’t been able to fly home for Christmas. Natalie felt a bit icky about misleading Jonathan, letting him believe that she only tutored on the side, that her publishing job was full-time, but it felt minor in the grand scheme of things.
They were closer than ever, and Natalie was convinced it was just a matter of time before he finally made a real move. But then one night, about a year after moving to New York, she’d gotten too drunk at dinner and slipped up, using the wordreaderfor the first time to describe her role at Horatio Street Press.
“Wait, what?” Jonathan’s brow furrowed. “I thought you were an editorial assistant. Isn’t that why you deferred grad school? Because you landed a full-time job?”
Fear coursed through her, and instead of calmly telling Jonathan he’d misunderstood, she began to babble, just like she always did when she was terrified. She had to cover her tracks. She couldn’t let him think for one millisecond that she’d made it all up to move to New York for him.
“Yeah, no, that’s what I thought, but it turns out they didn’t have a budget for an editorial assistant, so they hired me as a part-time reader instead. I should’ve told you, but I was too embarrassed. And then I guess I forgot. When I get embarrassed, I forget things. Does that ever happen to you? Maybe it’s a medical condition? Let me know when you get to that unit!” She forced a laugh, but Jonathan didn’t smile in return. The expression on his face was unreadable. Natalie’s panic surged into an even higher gear. She had to throw him off the scent somehow. “Speaking of things I forgot to mention, did I tell you about my neighbor Marigold? I think you’dreallylike her. Maybe she can meet us for a drink later?”
And that was that. Marigold happened to be free and met them at a bar in the West Village. Jonathan got her number that night, and they started dating shortly after. And when Marigold couldn’t figure out what to do for Jonathan’s birthday, Natalie had offered to help her write a sweet card, listing all the things she loved about him. Then when Marigold struggled to come up with more than a few, Natalie had been happy to nudge her in the right direction, supplying a few examples. Twenty-nine of them, to be exact.
After all, that’s what friends were for.
CHAPTER NINEOlivia
“That was quick,” Zack said as Olivia stepped back into the boat with a sigh. They’d beaten the ferry to the marina, but Marigold hadn’t been on it. According to Albert in the ticket office, Marigold had arrived forty-five minutes earlier in a private boat and then gotten into a taxi. She was gone. “So what now?”
“Just… hold on.” Olivia tried calling Marigold for the umpteenth time.
“Everything okay?”
“Just give me a second!” Olivia snapped. “I… I need to get in touch with a client before we lose reception on the water.”
“You didn’t take off for your own sister’s wedding?” he asked incredulously.
“Of course I did. I’m here, aren’t I? But that doesn’t mean I can just check out. Not all of us get summers off.”
“And not all of us have been tricked into believing movingmoney from one corporation’s account to another is a matter of life and death.”
“Do you haveanyoriginal ideas?” Olivia asked as she opened Find My Friends and searched in vain for Marigold. “I feel like I’m arguing with ChatGPT.”
