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“Oh,” I say.

Rose glances over. “What?”

I look at the three of them, and the realization feels so obvious once it’s there that I almost laugh.

“I love her.”

Nobody reacts quickly enough for me to miss the fact that none of them looks particularly surprised.

Dani smiles. “Did you want us to be shocked?”

“A little.”

“Sorry, boo,” she says, scrunching her nose. “No can do.”

I laugh and look down at my glass.

I wait for myself to start picking the realization apart, but there’s surprisingly little to examine. I love Flora. I want to be her girlfriend. I want her in the life I’m finally getting better at choosing for myself.

“I’m going to tell her.”

This time, nobody teases me.

Veronica only smiles. “Good.”

CHAPTER 42

FLORA

Merry has been trying to tell me something all evening.

I noticed it not long after I arrived, although at first I assumed it had something to do with work. She is still carrying the excitement of the promotion around with her, smiling every time the new title comes up, even as she pretends she’s already gotten used to it.

I like watching her be proud of herself.

She told me about the final conversation with Phillip yesterday, but tonight I get the longer version, delivered over takeout at her kitchen island with enough additional detail that I suspect she has replayed the meeting several times since. She tells me about the salary negotiation again, including the part where she managed to say the number she wanted without apologizing for it, and I listen even though I already know how the story ends.

I don’t think she realizes what she’s doing. But I don’t dare to point it out. I only sit there with my beer and let myself feel proud of her.

Later, when the food has gone cold between us and Merry has abandoned any pretense that we’re going to finish it, she reaches across the island and touches my wrist.

“Come here.”

I let her pull me between her knees.

She’s sitting on one of the stools, which puts us almost at the same height, and her hands settle loosely around my hips.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” I tell her.

“Can you blame me?”

That makes me smile.

Usually, I would leave it there. Merry looks at me often enough that I’ve learned not to assign meaning to every glance, but tonight there has been a kind of anticipation beneath it. She has gone quiet several times in the middle of conversations she started, watching me as though waiting for the right moment to say whatever comes next.

I touch the side of her face. “What is it?”

For once, she doesn’t pretend not to know what I mean.