Page 19 of Friends to Lovers

It doesn’t happen all the time to us , though, I’d wanted to say.

I had been with Novo, albeit as an intern, when it was struggling to make ends meet in its Portland offices: tiny studios, unreliable plumbing, spotty electricity and all.

There, no project got off the ground unless it was a sure thing.

Sinking millions of dollars and thousands of hours of manpower into a film that would never see the light of day might be a drop in the bucket to the major studio that we were now a part of, but to those of us at Novo, it was a catastrophe.

“Joni,” Ramona had said when I walked into her office. “I want you to know that this has nothing to do with how talented I think you are, but—”

“I’m fired,” I cut in. I wanted to rip open the wound myself, be in control of my own heartbreak. I had given up everything for this project, had made it my entire personality for years of my life. I might as well see it through to its bitter end.

The rest of the conversation hadn’t mattered all that much, in the end. Being fired by someone I’d looked up to for the last decade of my life was about as bad as it could get.

I hadn’t had a panic attack in years. Had even, for a while, naively thought they might be gone for good. But after crying so hard on the train home that a woman who had to be pushing a hundred had offered me her seat, all the familiar warning bells went off, and I didn’t do anything to stop it.

I received a text shortly after I got home that three other members of the team had been fired as well. A slew of texts came in after that:

Happens all the time, my ass. I bet they’re firing us to make up for the money we cost them.

Is this legal? I mean, can they get rid of us at this stage of the game?

Who wants to get drunk and look at job boards?

I felt trapped, untethered. I couldn’t fathom discussing it with anyone, that this thing I had given everything to was just over, like that, couldn’t even pull it together to commiserate with people because they had full, vibrant lives outside of work to turn to.

The only thing that sounded okay was getting out of New York, so I used my miles and dipped into my savings to pay the exorbitant fee to move my flight two days earlier.

“It’s the dream,” I tell the room now, my eyes stuck on the movement of Ren pouring water into the back of the coffeepot, as I try to let the natural rhythm of it soothe me.

“They’re in postproduction, so my role is mostly over.

” A half lie. I’d had some hand in it the whole way through, if only because I couldn’t seem to let it go after preproduction.

Hannah, thankfully, changes the subject. I quickly wish she hadn’t. “Are you seeing anyone back in New York?” she asks me.

“No,” I say, eyes wrenching away from Ren’s hands to where his mom is scooping the last of the batter into the muffin tin. “Not right now.”

“All you young people, not wanting to settle down.” She bends to slide the tray into the oven, bumps it closed with her hip.

She walks over to where Ren is closing the lid to the coffeepot, squeezes his shoulders as he flips the on switch.

“This one won’t marry the perfect girl when she’s right in front of him. ”

The fact that Ren had considered marrying Amanda shouldn’t shut me down.

In fact, it was what I’d thought he was about to tell me at the winery, that they were next.

But her words are like a rail bridge in front of me that suddenly goes missing, and my train of thought hurtles off. Marry, perfect girl .

“And we all know how you feel about that, Mom,” Ren says, reaching up to put the grinder back in the cupboard, store the bag of coffee next to it.

Hannah holds up her hands, her attention on her baking paraphernalia. “I’m just saying, I thought maybe seeing Stevie and Leo so happy this week might make you reconsider the idea of marrying Amanda.”

The pinprick to my spine at the sound of her name, at the reminder of anything even tangentially related to that New Year’s Eve night is quick, familiar, so I don’t even flinch at it anymore.

“I would like to point out that I am marrying Leo only because I’d like to hang out with him forever,” Stevie says, taking a bite of her muffin. “I don’t want this week to make anyone feel like they have to get married.”

The coffeepot sputters.

“It doesn’t, sweetie,” Hannah says. “It’s just that, Ren and Joni are the only ones who won’t be married now. Joni, doesn’t seeing your little sister preparing for her wedding make you think about it at all?”

I can’t get more than a croak out of my throat when she looks at me.

I’m thrilled for Stevie, but marriage has always been a vague concept to me, buried under work and working toward a future that no longer exists.

I figured it would just sort of happen one day, and so I haven’t put the same effort into dating that some of my friends have.

And now, with everything in my life so out of control, it’s the last thing on my mind.

“Well.” Stevie suddenly slaps the island, seeming to understand that this conversation is a dead end.

“Sasha told me I need to go down to the lighthouse to see what we need to set up in the cottage.” She glances between me and where Ren is watching the coffee brew. “Ren, Joni, could you guys help me?”

“Yes!” I pop up from the table. Ren is already heading in the direction of the door. We just went three rounds—job, Ren getting married, me getting married—and I have no interest in finding out what the remaining rounds might entail. “Just let me change.”

Stevie trails me onto the screen porch, sitting on the edge of my bed while I root through the dresser.

“Didn’t miss feeling like one of Mom’s patients again,” I say as I grab a T-shirt out of a drawer.

“At least she cares enough to ask,” she says. When I look down at her, surprised by her tone, she adds, “Wait until you meet Leo’s parents. There’s a reason he hangs out with us more than them.”

It surprises me. I’d always pictured Leo with parents as exuberant as he is. “Are you worried about Saturday?” I ask as we head back into the house.

“Not at all. And if things get tense, may I remind you it’s a pretty steep drop from the lighthouse down to the ocean,” she says, face devoid of humor. “Everyone will just have to be on their best behavior.”