Jay nodded. “Because Hugo’s business ended up taking off.”
“What? No,” Marigold said quickly. “Because of the politicalsituation in America. With all those sociopaths trying to destroy the country?”
“Come on, Jay,” Lauren said. “Marigold didn’t even know about Hugo’s business. He started that after she… He started that later.”
“That’s right,” Marigold agreed. “I didn’t know. But I’m really impressed!”
Lauren waited until Hugo went up to order from the bar, then turned to Marigold and lowered her voice. “He was like a man possessed. He’d always wanted to switch from repairs to design, but it’s a big leap with a lot of financial risk. And then, one day, he just sort of… went for it. He enrolled in a bunch of night classes, then he got a loan, switched to part-time at the dock, and started designing.”
“And this was sometime after our… thing?” Marigold asked.
“Rightafter,” Jay said. “Like, the next week. Guess he needed something to take his mind off you.” A cheer went up from the table next to them as the quizmaster read out the latest scores. “Uh-oh,The Algebraic Functional Alcoholicsare catching up. I hate those guys. I’m going to go try to distract them.”
As Jay approached his rivals’ table, Lauren leaned in to whisper to Marigold. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it was a distraction—I think he wanted to impress you.”
“Oh.” Marigold wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Why would Hugo want to impress the person who treated him so poorly? And who’d done her best to cut off contact? It didn’t make any sense. “I doubt it had anything to do with me. It was all his accomplishment.”
Lauren and Ruby exchanged a fleeting look and seemed to agree it was time to change the subject. “Do you still live inManhattan?” Ruby asked. “I thought all the hip people lived in Brooklyn.”
“Hip?” Lauren repeated. “I’m sorry, that’s so cringe, I just died a little inside.”
“Okay,cringeis a LOT worse thanhip. Tell her, Marigold.”
“Wait, itisher,” a voice said. Marigold looked up to see Jay coming over with two of the girls who’d been sitting at the next table, one with dark brown hair in long braids, and another with a dyed purple pixie cut.
“Told you,” Jay said smugly.
“Um, hi?” Marigold gave them an uncertain smile, wondering if “her” meant “that New York bitch who broke Hugo’s heart” or “that influencer I follow.”
“I think you’re amazing,” the girl with braids said, then tilted her head toward her friend. “So does Chelsea.”
“I don’t follow you,” Chelsea, the purple-haired girl, said, looking embarrassed.
The girl with braids shot an exasperated look at her friend. “Yeah, but I’ve sent you, like, hundreds of her posts.”
“Sorry for the spam,” Marigold said with a smile while secretly wishing she could disappear. No one ever approached her in New York, where she was small potatoes compared to real celebrities like Richie.
“What are you doing up here?” the girl asked eagerly. “Is it for a campaign?”
“Um, no… I…”
“Hey, Mare?” Hugo appeared at her side and tossed his keys onto the table with a clang. “I think I left my phone in the truck. Do you mind checking?”
“What?” Marigold looked from the keys to Hugo in surprise.“Oh yeah, sure. No problem.” She excused herself and headed toward the door, doing her best to maintain a casual pace that belied her desperation to get outside. She stepped into the chilly evening air and took a few bracing deep breaths before walking over to Hugo’s truck. She unlocked the door and looked around, but there was no sign of his phone, so she went around to the other side and began rooting through the glove compartment.
“What are you doing?” Marigold turned to see Hugo standing next to the truck.
“Looking for your phone?”
Hugo smiled. “It’s in my pocket. It just seemed like you were maybe ready for a break, so I made up an excuse.”
Marigold stared at him, feeling a surge of warmth despite the nippy air. That’s exactly what Natalie would’ve done for her. Except that, in Marigold’s experience, no one else—not even her family—could sense when she needed a few minutes alone to recenter herself. “Thank you.”
Lauren stuck her head out the door and called to them, “Hugo, come back! There’s another literature category coming up.”
“One sec!” He turned to Marigold. “You ready to head back in? Or do you need more time?”
“I’m ready.” She closed the glove compartment and shut the door. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about literature. Was that your major? Before you dropped out?”
