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“I did. Somehow,” I said, shaking my head. “I really don’t know how. I’m fucking tired. I thought about quitting at least once a day” The mental load of the new job was still so much, and I needed to get used to it sooner rather than later. And then there was the way that Eloise told me about the things I’d messed up. Which were more numerous than I would have liked, but there were so many times when she almost expected me to read her mind and I didn’t have those powers. She never got angry or yelled or called me names, but her quiet disapproval was almost worse. She’d also added a few other tasks, like picking up dry cleaning, returning items, and other little errands to my day and that was even more stress on top of stress. But I’d made it out alive.

“It’s good for you. Builds character,” Hunter said, and I gave her my middle finger. “Hey, that’s what my father says.”

“I don’t want to build character. I just want steady employment that doesn’t make me want to throw myself off a bridge and that also pays my bills.”

Hunter raised her beer bottle. “Let’s toast to that.”

We did and ordered a second round of wings and fries. I was happy to be with my best friend with my face covered in sauce and full of cheap beer and knowing that I didn’t have to work for the next two days. Sure, I had to do all the shit that I didn’t have time for during the week like cleaning and laundry and other chores, but still. If I wanted to lay in bed all day and read one book after another, I could. Bliss. I should also probably call my parents this weekend, and I did want to talk to my sister.

Too many things to do.

Hunter and I made a detour to Sapph to say hi to Reid while she was working and then Hunter asked if I wanted to sleep over at her place and I couldn’t say no.

Hunter’s apartment was lavish, and I already kept a bunch of my crap in her guest room. She’d offered to let me move in with her more than once, but I’d always declined. I would have felt weird living in that place with her and sooner or later it would have affected our friendship. Maybe. I didn’t want to take a risk and find out. So I stayed in my crappy place with Danica and crashed at Hunter’s whenever she asked me to.

We put on matching pajamas and she busted out her fancy skincare that I didn’t even want to know the cost of and stayed up too late eating those expensive giant cookies that she had delivered.

“I wonder what she’s doing this weekend,” I mused as I licked chocolate off my fingers.

“Who?” Hunter asked from where she was sitting on the floor with her back against the couch where she’d been scrolling through her phone. We had something mindless on the TV but neither of us was watching it.

“Eloise Roth,” I said. “It feels weird not using her full name.” I was still a little buzzed from the beers at the wing place.

“I feel like it’s something fabulous. Jetting off to New York for a Broadway show and then drinks with some other famous writers at a hidden bar that only famous people know about. Or maybe taking a private jet to Paris to meet some minor heir that she met on the exclusive dating site.” Hunter would know about that exclusive dating site. She had an account but claimed that she never checked it. I was always bugging her to let me take a look and see if I could find someone for her, but she never let me.

“I’m sure it’s something like that.” Eloise Roth wouldn’t be laying in bed and doing nothing but rot for two days, that was for sure. I wondered if she would spend time with her friend. Somehow, I just couldn’t see Eloise Roth playing board games with a bunch of noisy kids. Eloise Roth eating pizza. Now there was an image. Sure, I could see her eating something like a flatbread with goat cheese and balsamic, but regular pepperoni pizza? No way.

“What is she like?” Hunter asked, examining the ends of her hair for split ends. As if she didn’t get strict regular trims to assure that didn’t happen.

“Eloise?” I asked. Hunter nodded. “She’s a really hard worker. Like, just sits and types for hours on end. Her focus is unreal. I’m so envious of it, actually. Demanding. Strict. She likes things the way she likes them.”

“Has she let you read any of her new stuff? It would be pretty cool to get to see it before it’s published.”

“No way. I think I’d get fired for snooping. I don’t even really know what she’s working on. I mean, I know what I’ve seen from some of the emails, but I haven’t read anything. I mean, why would she need my input?” I didn’t work in publishing. Sure, I read a lot, but I wasn’t a professional in any capacity. Hell, I couldn’t spell rhythm on the first, second, or third try. I always let autocorrect handle it.

“Still, must be fun to see the back end. You’re getting a lot of experience that you can use.” That was true. For as long as I got to work with Eloise, I was going to soak it up and learn as much as I could so I could carry it with me in the future. I mean, I’d never thought about a job in publishing, but if I was gaining all these skills, wouldn’t it be smart to put them to use?

“Listen, I gotta survive three more weeks of my trial period. Let’s just hope I can get through that and then I’ll start thinking long term.”

Chapter Seven

Eloise

It was Noah’s birthday weekend, and of course I was there to celebrate, but also to help Camille not lose her mind. He’d asked for a superhero party and Camille had somehow managed to find a company that sent people in costume to parties that also had at least one actor who was fluent in ASL. Then there was booking and receiving the bounce house and making sure it got set up and the food and cleaning the house and then Camille was at the end of her rope. John did his best to help carry the load, but Camille was so bad at delegating and then refusing to allow anyone to help when she got frazzled.

“My love. I’m going to need you to take a breath,” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and squeezing. One of her eyes was twitching in a concerning way.

“But—” she started to say. I dug my fingers in until she actually focused on my face.

“Everything is going to be fine. Noah’s party is going to be perfect. Even if the cupcakes are wrong and it might drizzle a little bit. It’s going to be perfect,” I said and waited for her to start breathing normally again.

At last Camille nodded. “Okay. Okay.”

The party was perfect. Noah was over the moon to sign with his favorite superhero, and the bounce house didn’t deflate, and the rain held off, and there was no blood and very few tears.

Once the last kid had gone home and the grandparents had agreed to take the three kids for the night to give Camille and John a break, the three of us sat on the back porch with drinks and leftover lasagna.

“I’m never doing this again,” Camille said, slumped over in her chair.