“Rafael,” Claire said, reaching up to hug him. “Still enormous. Love that for Bea.”
“She seems to like it,” he said mildly. Bea’s stomach did that fluttery dip it always did, as if her body hadn’t received the memo that they were married now and she should be normal when he did simple things likespeaking.
Then her gaze swerved behind them. “Laurent.”
“Surprise,” Laurent replied, quiet amusement threaded through the word.
Claire hesitated, as if unsure quite how to greet him. Laurent spared her the decision, offering his hand. The formal way they shook was almost comical.
Maya clapped her hands as the servers arrived, balancing wide platters toward their section. “The food’s here. Let’s move, I’m starving.”
They followed her into the private area, two long tables already buzzing with noise, handbags slung over chairbacks, coats tossed in a heap, someone announcing far too loudly that adulthood should come with a refund policy.
Jenna was holding a cocktail that smoked faintly at the rim. “This cost twenty-eight dollars,” she said, practically delighted. “And for the first time in my life I didn’t have to check my bank account first.”
Priya raised her glass. “To being employed.”
Hannah and Felicity whooped: one had recently been hired at a law firm, the other had finally gotten a permanent nursing position at the local hospital.
“To being underpaid,” Kate MacAllister added, clinking.The Algorithm, Claire always joked, because Kate never missed a cue, and was always dressed like the room was a stage she knew by heart.
There was something uniquely durable about friendships formed when you had nothing but time, feelings, and a hunger to be understood. The people who’d witnessed the rawest draft of you. Years could pass, cities could change, and still the old ease came back the second you were together.
As the courses were served, conversation bounced the way it used to in hallways of lockers and lecture theatres. They complained about corporate onboarding, laughed too loudly about professors they’d once feared, spiraled briefly into nostalgia about the musky smell of the gym.
Rafael’s hand stayed on her knee, a constant point of contact that kept everything on her skin humming.
The mains arrived, and Rafael didn’t hesitate. He drew her plate closer, slicing cleanly through the steak before setting half of it onto her dish. Then he reached for her fish, switching the plates just long enough to take half for himself.
His mouth brushed her ear. “Eat.”
Bea glanced down at the rearranged servings. “You love steak.”
Rafael adjusted his knife and fork. “You love both.”
Bea kissed the edge of his jaw.
The last mains were collected, and the waiter promised dessert wouldn’t be long.
Chairs scraped back, glasses lifted, the night tipping into its looser half. Someone was already chanting for shots. Laughter spiked. The men clustered off to one side, and the women tightened into their own circle without even thinking.
Priya leaned across the table. “Can we talk about the interview?”
Jenna dropped her fork. “Yes, let’s.”
“I watched it three times,” Maya admitted. “The moment he said ‘that’s how interviews happen’I nearly fell off my couch.”
Felicity groaned. “I used to think Oliver Fox was intimidating. Now every time I see his face I hear clown music.”
Priya shook her head slowly. “The documents were insane. He’d been doing it forten yearsbefore you, Bey. I kept thinking…how did nobody stop him?”
Hannah exhaled. “You were so calm. If I was you I would have just passed out.”
She’d been close a couple of times.
Claire angled her glass at Bea. “Beya Slaya isn’t a nickname. It’s a warning to all evildoers.”
“I did it once and only out of necessity.”
