Page 5

Chapter

Four

I’m running calculations. Midway through my fourth week of unemployment and a third of the way through my fifth cup of instant ramen this week, I sit at the guest room’s tiny desk and squint at my bank account totals.

Although I’ve always kept some savings set aside for emergencies, it turns out that my rainy-day fund accounts for only a light drizzle—not the steady downpour of facing a whole summer with no work.

Even with Liam’s generosity and weeks of ramen and PB&Js, I won’t last longer than another month or two at best without some additional income.

Not when I’m still paying my roommates rent for the NYC apartment that I’m not even living in.

I need a new plan.

When I lost the job at Incite, I had only a handful of options.

In theory, I could have stayed with my parents in Connecticut, but that was immediately out of the question.

I wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure of the old high school medals hanging above my bed, my mom peeking through my door and softly asking, “Are you all right, Sadiebug?,” and my dad’s stormy glances from across the kitchen table…

it was too much to think about. As an only child, I felt that the weight of their expectations for me was heavy enough.

I could have gone back to my manager and asked her to reconsider her decision to let me go, but the thought of that had filled me with cold dread.

I’d considered trying to find something else in the city, something I could work part time until I got back on my feet again.

But instead, I’d stared blankly at my ceiling for a week, paralyzed by indecision and disgust until Liam came to the rescue.

Among my banking and budgeting browser tabs, I spot the threatening bubble of an unread email. But it’s just from an old nosy co-worker.

Subject: Just Checking In!

Josephine!

How are things going?? I know it’s been a while since we’ve had the chance to catch up over happy hour (you’re in TX now, right?) but I miss having you around.

I told my manager about you, and he said he reached out a couple of weeks back to set up an interview but hasn’t heard back from you yet.

You should hit him up—you know I’d KILL to work with you again.

I’m not sure what happened at Incite, but I’m here if you need anything. I’ll keep you posted if I have any other leads. We’ll have you back in the city in no time!

x Darcy

Despite spending a few lunch breaks together and sharing a cubicle wall, Darcy and I had never been close while she’d worked at Incite.

I know this outreach is only her attempt to fish for juicy details to pass around at her next office happy hour.

I don’t bother to look at the link she’s attached to the recruiting website.

Instead, I sit with the email for a few heartbeats, allowing the anxiety to grip my chest in an icy fist. When I first got the job at Incite straight out of college, my manager had called me Josephine by mistake, referring to my HR paperwork.

No one except my grandma ever called me Josephine.

I’d always been Sadie. But in the moment, I’d liked the sound of it and hadn’t bothered to correct her.

Josephine seemed like a chic big-city gal, ready to take on the world—a name I could grow into.

Seeing the name again now just adds another layer of sour resentment.

I roughly scrub one hand through my hair.

Ignoring a handful of other emails like Darcy’s, I pull up the social media accounts I created for my art and idly scroll through, looking for any distraction.

I used to be proud that my accounts were fairly popular, as I’d kept up-to-date with posting fanart for trending shows and games.

It wasn’t unusual for superfans to reach out and ask me to draw their faves, and I’d taken on a few paid requests when the mood struck.

So, despite half a year of inactivity, I’ve still got a backlog of DMs and requests: Are you currently accepting commissions?

I tilt my head slowly to the side and then go still. Into the quiet silence of the room, I let out a single contemplative “Hm.”

There are plenty of ways I could make enough money to get through the rest of the summer.

I could be the Uber driver Heller so desperately needs, or pick up shifts at the grocery store.

Since they’re brand-new, Alchemist is probably hiring, I think wildly, before waving away that idea—even though working at Alchemist would be a safer plan than the one currently taking root in my mind.

Everything has felt so foggy lately that this small seed of inspiration feels like a ray of sun piercing through the clouds—impossible to ignore.

Before doubt can poison my sudden rush of enthusiasm, I accept all of my pending commission requests, including a pet portrait for a birthday gift, a bust of someone’s Legends of Lore character, and a NSFW drawing of my least favorite Marvel hero, Captain America.

But hey, the spicy art will undoubtedly bring in the most money—and even the most boring of the Avengers will be a treat to draw nude.

For years I’ve done commissions just to keep my skills fresh, but this is the first time I might actually be relying on the income. And despite my nerves, it feels good.

I smile to myself. Is this what Noah imagined when he suggested I pursue art professionally ?

Regardless, America’s ass is a lot easier to focus on than my real career falling apart.

I carefully close my laptop and set it to the side, trading it for my drawing tablet and pen.

“Hi, Sadie.”

Noah stands silhouetted in Liam’s doorway, early Sunday afternoon sunshine beaming bright and merciless behind him.

His face is shiny with sweat, loose curls sticking to his temples as he lifts off his helmet and clips it to his bike.

I open the door wide enough for him to roll it inside and rest it against the wall of the entryway.

“Just in time, Noah. Can’t have a wedding without any music,” I tease. It’s not that he’s late—everyone else just arrived sheepishly, eagerly early, to Liam’s delight.

“Worst case, Kain would fill in for me.”

I laugh. “You think so?”

“I’m sure he’s got a nice baritone.”

“Bass,” Julie calls from the kitchen, correcting him. “But he’d kill you first before ever agreeing to perform.”

Noah and I share a grin, and he slides a drawstring backpack from his shoulder. I frown at its awkward bulkiness. “What’s in the bag?” I ask.

Surreptitiously, Noah glances to either side before he leans close enough for me to feel the heat of his sun-warmed skin radiating against my cheek. He holds the bag out, almost in offering. But just as I reach for it, he snatches it away and laughs.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll see.”

He disappears down the hallway and into the game room while I lean against the wall, pretending not to be flustered. After a moment or two, I return to the kitchen to finish helping with today’s snacks.

Apart from my growing curiosity about Noah, Julie—who upon meeting her for the second time this morning insisted that I call her Jules—is swiftly becoming my favorite member of the group.

My affection can be won with little treats, and Jules is the queen of little treats.

Again she arrived early, with iced tea and cookie dough, insistent on using Liam’s oven to bake the cookies so that they’d be as fresh as possible when everyone arrived.

Bless her.

I stack cups for the tea while she removes the last batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. “So, Jules,” I ask, “what big secret is Liam blackmailing you with to get you to play D&D with us? Is it the recipe for these cookies?”

As she laughs, her eyes crinkle with delight behind her glasses. “I don’t look like I play, do I?”

I pause to give her outfit a once-over: black denim overall skirt over a white-and-red-checkered button-up shirt. There are hearts embroidered on the lapels, and the skirt flares outward in a way that accentuates her curves. “You look like you’re too cool for us, actually,” I say.

She pretends to flip her hair over her shoulder, even though she’s got it pinned up in space buns today.

“Truthfully, I asked to play.” I lift the pitcher of tea, and she follows behind with the cookies as we walk to the game room.

“I’ve been exploring new hobbies and trying to find new outlets, you know? And Liam and I have always been buds.”

I imagine if I had to listen to middle schoolers play out of tune all day, I’d need an outlet as a big, muscled barbarian dude, too.

We join the others in the game room, where Morgan and Noah have their heads bent together across the table, discussing what elaborate outfits their characters are wearing to the wedding.

Jules is quick to chime in as she hovers over them, pouring drinks and arranging her cookies.

As the others go on about their wardrobe selections, I sit and jot down notes in my journal alongside rough sketches.

I’d already drawn Jaylie—why not the others?

As Morgan laughs at something Noah says, I keep my eyes on the page and outline Morgana’s confident smirk.

I wonder if Noah’s asked her to show him around town, too.

“All right, all right—are we ready to get started?” Liam asks.

Everyone settles in and pulls out tiny velvet bags identical to the one holding my own dice—we’d rolled only a few dice during our first session, and I hadn’t noticed them in detail.

My heart melts to realize that Liam must have gifted everyone their first set.

Morgan’s dice are a dark, decadent red with swirls of gold threaded throughout, and Jules’s are a stormy purple.

Noah’s are a mix of different clover-green tones, and he energetically passes them back and forth between his hands.

I marvel at how thoughtfully chosen they all were.

When Liam first gave me my set, I’d simply admired how pretty they were, but it occurs to me now that they look just like the Goddess of Luck’s gold coins.

As Liam prepares the last of his notes, Noah’s voice floats toward me from across the table. “Which color? You should ask Sadie, not me. She’s the artist.”

Morgan turns to me from where she sits on my left. Her perfume is a sharp, citrusy cloud around us. “Are you really, Sadie?” She glances at my notebook, and her brows climb her forehead in surprise. “Is that my girl?” She taps a pointed red fingernail over my sketch of Morgana.

“I—yeah. I like to doodle.” Internally, I wince. Doodle?

“She’s perfect,” Morgan gushes.

I look up to find Noah smiling at us—at me. His eyes dance over my features, lingering on the side of my face. “Picked those out special for today, didn’t you?”

I twirl one of my dagger earrings between my fingertips. “Maybe.”

“So thematic,” Morgan says with a laugh. “Can you draw some for Morgana, too?”

“I’m on it.”

“Well, if we’re all set, then?” Although he addresses the whole table, Liam’s gaze is pinned on me. He’s using his teacher voice. I’m the kid in the back of the class who won’t stop talking.

“I’ve got all my spells. Let’s do it,” I say.

“And I’ve got my songs picked out.” Noah reaches under his chair and produces a cheap-looking ukulele out of seemingly nowhere. The table collectively groans good-naturedly, and Jules claps her hands together with a laugh. Liam looks pleased to have inspired such a high level of participation.

Noah meets my eyes across the table and grins.

“Excellent,” Liam says. “Then allow me to paint a picture of where we left off…”