Page 69 of Trust Fund Baby

“Hello?” Roxie’s voice crackled through the speaker. Her voice was like a spark of lightning that made me stand up taller, breathe in a little deeper, and feel a little less out of control somehow.

“Roxie?” James asked. “Is Hallie home?”

“James? What are you doing here?” Roxie’s voice was defensive, and I expected nothing less from her. She had always been fiercely protective of anyone she cared about.

“I need to speak to Hallie. Is she here?” James asked again.

Roxie let out a long sigh, as if she were debating whether or not continuing this conversation would be good. Finally, she said, “Hold on. I’m coming down.”

When she appeared, without Hallie in sight, James and I had very different reactions. While his shoulders slumped in disappointment, it felt like the oxygen in all of New York City was being sucked away as I laid eyes on her.

Her hair was loose now, a little messy like she’d been running her hands through it. She wore a soft-looking sweater that hit just below her hips, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and there was a faint smudge of something dark—eyeliner or some other makeup—under her left eye. Details I shouldn’t notice. But I knew every tiny detail of her face so well. I couldn’t help myself.

She stopped a few feet from us, her gaze flickering between James and me like she was deciding if one of us had dragged the other here against their will. She didn’t linger on me long, but long enough for the world to tilt slightly beneath my feet.

“I tried to call Hallie, but she only ever gave me her work phone number, because of how we met, for the article and everything,” James told Roxie, his words tumbling out. He was nervous. “All my texts are failing, and her phone is disconnected.”

She nodded. “Yeah, she had to turn her work phone and laptop back in when she quit Sophisticate.”

James sucked in a breath. “She really quit. Why?”

“Because her boss has no integrity,” Roxie practically hissed. “She changed Hallie’s article without her consent. She said all those negative things about your family’s restaurant. Hell, she basically published an entirely different article with Hallie’s name attached to it.”

James shook his head like he was trying to make sense of everything but couldn’t quite manage it. He’d spent all this time not speaking to Hallie, so sure she’d betrayed him, for nothing. “But what about the food critic position?”

Roxie crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced over at me before she spoke. I was trying so hard to figure out what she was thinking. Whether she was even slightly pleased to see me. But for once in my life, I couldn’t read her. “She and I are finally starting our own blog together. We’re still working with our website developers and finalizing branding, but our first review should be up in the next few weeks.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth before I could stop it. She sounded so happy.

I missed seeing her like that.

“Congratulations, Roxie,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “I know that was something you’d been hoping you could do.”

Her gaze landed on me again, slowly this time, like she was trying to decide if my words were even worth acknowledging. For a second, I thought I saw something soften in her eyes as the streetlight caught them.

Then she looked away.

Down at the cracked step under her feet, at the small scuff on her boot, anywhere but at me. She let out a long, measured sigh, the kind that seemed to carry years of history.

But when she glanced back up, it was at James instead of me. “I can’t speak for her, James. I know she tried her hardest to reach you, to explain, and when you shut her out, the guilt nearly overwhelmed her. She barely got up from our couch for nearly a week, if I’m being honest. I thought I was going to have to call reinforcements in to help me peel her off the cushions and force her to shower. But,” Roxie paused, and there was that mischievous glint in her eyes that she always used to get right before she would suggest we do something we shouldn’t. “She hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

“Is she home?” James asked once more, this time even more desperately.

Roxie shook her head, and I watched my best friend deflate. “She’s out doing a freelance project while we wait for our business to get off the ground. But I have an idea. How do you guys feel about going to Whiskey Locker tomorrow night?”

Now this was the old Roxie. The one that was fearless, full of wild ideas, and willing to toss caution to the wind if it meant that she was doing the right thing. It was the part of her I’d always found most infectious. And I was being included in this wild idea. She’d said you guys. That had to mean something. So, I went with it.

“When aren’t we there?” I interjected, wanting to take part in her excitement.

But once again, she pretended I hadn’t said anything at all. “I can make sure Hallie is at Whiskey Locker tomorrow night. If that’s something you’d want?”

“Yes,” James replied without hesitation. “I want a chance to speak to her, to apologize, if she’ll let me.”

“Then let’s make that happen. For the both of you, because you look miserable and it’s a real vibe killer, if I’m being honest.”

I watched Roxie’s grin, the familiar spark lighting her face, and couldn’t help the ache that twisted in my chest. She was talking to James, making plans for Hallie, yet all I could think about was how alive she looked in that moment—the way her eyes glistened with mischief, how her smile seemed effortless, and how impossibly real she was.

It took everything in me to back away. Even when her eyes landed on mine for only a moment, I thought I saw her hesitate. I thought I saw a crack in the mask she was wearing. Something soft and fleeting. But then I turned away before I did something stupid.