Page 66

I’ve been nominated for an award. Me. Take that Mrs. Osborne from sixth grade who said I was nothing but a loud mouth.

I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. A rush of excitement bubbles up, and suddenly, everything else fades into the background. This is huge. The work I’ve poured my heart into, the workshops, the people we’ve helped, it’s all coming together.

I’m grinning like an idiot, and my hands are shaking as I clutch my phone. I can’t keep this to myself. I need to tell someone. Everyone.

I quickly shoot a text to Violet.

Me:

Guess who’s been nominated for the Community Honor Award?!

I immediately follow it up with a group text to Mom and Harper. This is the kind of news that calls for an immediate celebration, and I’m not about to let it slip by.

I practically bounce around my studio, still trying to process the sheer weight of it all. They saw what I’ve been doing. They noticed. And now, it’s real.

As my phone dings with replies, I laugh out loud. Violet’s response comes first.

Violet:

You BETTER be calling me to celebrate this! So proud of you!

My smile stretches until my cheeks hurt. The award is incredible. I’m going to treasure the hell out of it. But starting the non-profit was never about getting a plaque or hearing my name called from a stage. I started it for the kid who needed somewhere safe to put all the things they didn’t have words for. For the parent who didn’t know where to turn. For every person who walked through our doors convinced they were too much, too broken, or too far gone—and walked out believing maybe they weren’t.

That’s why it matters. Today just got a thousand times brighter.

I grab my phone one more time, my fingers moving quickly as I start to organize my thoughts.

I start drafting an email to the community center, thanking them for the nomination and requesting more details about the event. The more information I have, the more I can plan. I’ll need to rally my team and get everyone involved. Maybe even plan a small event or a fundraiser leading up to it, something to keep the energy high.

I put the phone down for a second, letting out a deep breath. This is the kind of recognition that could help bring in more support, more funding, and even more volunteers. I can’t afford to let this slip by.

Then a thought sneaks in. A little voice that can’t be ignored.

Beau.

Would he be proud of me? Would he have even cared about this award? The version of Beau I got to know… Never mind. I don’t need him to care. Right?

Two days later, my phone buzzes with a text.

Violet:

Back from our honeymoon! Bar tonight at 7?

I stare at the screen for a full minute, chewing my bottom lip.

Of course she wants me there. I’m her best friend. And I want to be there. I want to hear all about the honeymoon, toast to their new chapter, hug her so hard she squeals. But there’s one little hitch. A tall, broad shouldered hitch with a brooding stare and hands that know exactly how to ravage me.

I don’t ask if he’ll be there. I already know. Still, I start typing back.

Me:

Wouldn’t miss it!

My fingers hover over the send button.

I could say I’m busy. I could say I have a board meeting, a workshop, a mild case of the plague. But this is my life, my best friend, my favorite bar. I’m allowed to exist in all of those spaces, even if he’s standing across the room pretending I never happened.

I hit send.