“Vik?”
“Hm?”
“Is anyone mad at me? About the money?”
Vik shrugged; their shoulder dragged against Mae’s.
“I doubt anyone’smadat you. We all knew how close you and Jesus were; it wasn’t like it was a surprise. Jackson and I are in a good spot these days, so jealousy didn’t occur to me. Honestly, if anyone is salty about it, I feel like there’s probably grief mixed up in those feelings, which…isn’t on you.”
“Yeah.”
“And even the salty among us probably knows, deep down, that you were the best person to receive Jesus and Steve’s money anyway. Like, I hate that it took you away from Portland, but it also didn’t surprise any of us that it took you literally less than twenty-four hours after spreading the man’s ashes to create a whole new life plan with his inheritance.”
Mae’s mouth curved.
“You know what I would’ve done?” Vik continued. “Put it into savings and guilt-stressed about it for years.”
“I mean, that sounds like the much smarter option, by far.”
“Nah.” Vik shook their curls back and forth. “Jesus would’ve hated that. He would’ve loved this, though.”
“I hope so,” Mae whispered.
“Nah. You know so.”
Mae kept staring at the ceiling. The atoms inside her, around them, settled, deep and peaceful.
“Thanks for coming, Vik. Even when I told you not to.”
Vik kissed her cheek.
“Any time.”
* * *
When Dell entered the bookstore the following day, the first thing he heard was giggles.
Which was a bit confounding, as the last time he’d seen Mae, she had seemed barely functional. He’d stayed away this morning for as long as he could stand it, giving her space.
He frowned when he walked further into the shop and deduced that the giggles were coming from the bathroom. And that they were coming from more than just Mae.
When he turned into the alcove that was to be Mae’s planned reading area, where the restroom was tucked into the corner, he saw first the head of dark curls next to Mae’s pink bun. And then he noticed the walls.
“Mae?”
The dark-haired one jumped, turning with a smile.
“Dell McCleary,” they said, in such a way that Dell temporarily wondered if he should twirl on his heel and get out of dodge now.
“One and the same,” he eventually mustered.
“Dell!” Mae emerged behind her friend, eyes bright with laughter. Somehow, in the last twelve hours, Mae had apparently gone through a 180. Dell was glad to see it, and simultaneously, pettily disappointed that he hadn’t had a damn thing to do with it.
“Dell, this is Vik, Bay Books’s graphic designer and my friend from Portland. They use they/them pronouns. Vik, this is Dell.”
Vik had a sturdy handshake. “It’s a pleasure,” they smiled.
“Likewise.” Dell’s eyes slid to Mae. “And Vik is helping you decorate the bathroom?”
