Page 18

Chapter 18

Grace

Our Uber had left us? Outside the art museum, Isa and I stood dumbfounded on the curb for ten seconds before we took action. “You order another,” I said, “and I’ll handle the hat.”

Ev did not surrender so easily. “No way,” he said, rising to his full height. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—”

I jumped on his back and tried to snatch the Mets cap off his head. “We have lunch reservations,” I replied as he stumbled a moment, then righted himself, “that I worked very hard to secure, and if we’re late…”

“We’re in front of the east entrance,” Isa was saying, phone pressed to her ear. A car must’ve already been circling for passengers. “Standing right on the curb.” She sighed. “Yes, I’ll be the one waving.”

“I’m not letting something like your sports allegiance ruin this!” I told Ev, the two of us still in a struggle. I had wrapped my legs around his waist, and he was holding his hat down with one hand while using the other to bat away both of mine.

But then I did something I shouldn’t have. With Isa focused on the traffic, I stretched and pressed a kiss to his jawline, a light kiss that I now knew would set us both on fire.

Ev conceded immediately.

I grabbed his hat and dropped back down to the sidewalk in victory.

His eyes had grown wide and glassy. “What was that?” he whisper-asked, a catch in his voice.

“What was what?” I whisper-asked back because I didn’t know what else to say. It was taking some serious mental concentration to keep my hands from shaking. Why had I just done that?!

Ev turned away from me to rub his neck. It was flaming red with awkwardness.

Because it was awkward—awkward and confusing. How could it not be? We’d kissed like we were the only two people in the world earlier, yet I’d gone running through the museum maze afterward, terrified of what we had done. It seemed like all had been righted by the fountain—we were still friends—but I had a sinking feeling that our habitual affirmation wouldn’t be enough anymore. Kissing Ev had felt like being lit up from the inside, a firework bursting in the night sky.

And now that I knew Ev liked kissing me too…I didn’t want to stop kissing him, and I didn’t think I had the strength to stop kissing him. Had the situation been so dire that I’d needed to plant one on his cheek? No, definitely not. I could’ve found another way to snag the cap.

Had I wanted to kiss him? Well…

“Are you guys ready?” Isa asked, her tone almost making me jump. It was what James called her CEO persona, an all-business voice that she rarely used with me. And I sensed some irritation laced in her professionalism. My stomach squirmed. She hadn’t noticed Ev and me nudging each other earlier, had she? Or caught me kiss his cheek just now?

She couldn’t know, could she?!

I hurried to ask Janet—our new Uber driver—the necessary questions, and after passing the test, we climbed into her white Toyota Corolla. Ironically, Janet was wearing an orange Philadelphia Flyers T-shirt.

“Please keep things civil,” Isa whispered to Ev.

The Adlers were also hockey fans. The Flyers were in the NHL playoffs this season, and of course were playing none other than the New York Islanders.

Go figure.

Isa sat in the middle seat, and I distracted myself by checking our virtual parking meter. Its time was running a little too low by my best estimate, so I added a few more hours.

And then promptly received a Venmo notification. To your health! Isa’s caption read, and the money had been a private payment. Venmo wasn’t exactly social media, but its public transactions were an underrated stalking tool.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I told her.

She smile-shrugged, no longer CEO Cruz. “It’s technically my car.”

I tried my best to smile back. Isa was wonderful, the most wonderful friend. Kind, caring, considerate—always there for you. Guilt gnawed in the pit of my stomach. Why did it have to be Ev?

Why did Ev have to be the boy who broke her heart?

Why couldn’t he just be the boy who had mine?

Hook, line, and sinker.

I glanced over at him, long enough to catch his eye in return. Isa was tapping away on her phone, so she didn’t notice. I’m sorry, I mouthed, and touched my cheek.

Ev nodded solemnly, then turned away to FaceID into his iPhone. Was that it? I worried, until my own phone buzzed in my pocket. As I rummaged for it, I caught Ev sneak a peek atme.

You should be , his text read. I’d watch your mouth if I were you…

I felt my cheeks pinken.

I definitely do , Ev messaged again. Watch your mouth, I mean.

My blush deepened. Ev could flat-out flirt.

Ev!!! I wrote.

Grace!!! he wrote back.

We looked up from our phones and smirked at each other over Isa’s head. His dimples were begging to be poked—no, kissed. Poking was a thing of the past.

Ev brushed two fingertips across his nose, and I swear I felt their gentle touch on mine. My chest swelled, but not in a wholehearted way this time; it swelled until it was swollen, almost painful. Isa was sitting right next to me.

Biting down hard on my tongue, I tapped out another message: How much longer can we do this, Ev?

I waited a few seconds before sending it, and watched Ev receive it. His eyes scanned the screen, face completely stoic.

The gray typing dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Appeared.

Disappeared.

What is he going to say? I wondered, my lungs wavering. That we should talk? About us? About what we are? And then tell Isa?

My phone vibrated, and I read: Not long. Just return myhat.

And I couldn’t help myself—I burst out laughing. Full-on, bottom-of-my-belly laughter.

Isa finally put down her phone, her lips already twitching with giggles. She laughed, I laughed. I laughed, she laughed. “G, what…?”

“It’s him,” I said, wiping tears away from my eyes and gesturing to Ev. “He wants his damn hat back.”

“Seriously?” Isa shifted in her seat toward him. “You actually asked that?” Through her laughter, she scowled. “We can’t take you anywhere!”

No, we really couldn’t. Because when Janet dropped us off, Ev whooped, clapped his hands, and went, “Let’s go, Islanders!”

In response, our driver gaped before scrunching her face, flashing him the finger through the window, and then furiously speeding back into traffic.

“I thought we were going to lunch,” Isa said drily. “Not a business meeting.”

“We are going to lunch,” I said as the three of us stared up at the gleaming glass building. “Lunch is in here.”

“Like a box of day-old donuts in a conference room?” Ev joked.

I sighed. “Okay, lunch is up there. ” I pointed to the tippy-top of the skyscraper. At sixty stories, the Comcast Technology Center was not only the tallest building in the city and the headquarters for the global media company, but it was also a top destination for art exhibitions and fine dining.

Oh, right, and the luxurious Four Seasons Hotel.

Isa and Ev gawked when I told them we’d be eating at Jean-Georges, a Michelin-starred chef’s restaurant. My parents once had an adults-only dinner here with Isa and Ev’s parents.

The food was apparently amazing…and expensive.

“How are we going to pay for this?” Ev asked when we’d passed through the front doors and stood in the skyscraper’s expansive lobby.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” I told him. Every Christmas and every birthday, my grandmother gifted me a crisp hundred-dollar bill. But instead of spending them, I’d squirreled my money away for a rainy day.

“G, you don’t need to,” Isa started, but then a man who probably ranked somewhere between a doorman and security guard approached us.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

“Good afternoon,” we replied.

He gave us a long up-and-down look. I felt Isa move closer to me, although I wasn’t intimidated when he asked for the “purpose” of our visit.

“We’re having lunch,” I said with a confident smile. “At Jean-Georges.”

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

“Could you please point us in the direction of the elevators?” Ev added after a second. “We wouldn’t want to be late for our reservation. ”

There was a twinkle in his eye, one that pulled at my heartstrings. It reminded me of the mischievous gleam that would take over Mr.Adler’s face whenever he shared an inside joke.

To be honest, Ev was so much like his father.

I didn’t tell him that; it would be the last thing he’d want to hear, because everyone told him he looked like his dad. “Okay, Isa, give Ev James’s blazer,” I said once we were in the elevator, flying up to the fifty-ninth floor. Was I afraid of heights? I guess we were going to find out today. “Guys have to wear jackets in the restaurant. It’s a dress-code requirement.”

Isa didn’t relinquish the blazer right away, keeping it protectively tucked under her arm. My brows knitted together. What was the big deal? It was just a jacket.

Around the forty-seventh floor, she finally handed it over to Ev. “But don’t ruin it,” she told him as he slipped an arm into a sleeve.

“How am I going to ruin it, Isa?” he asked. “Spill soup all over myself?”

She ignored him, turning to me. “It’s too tight on him,” shesaid.

“Well, uh, yeah,” I responded with arms behind my back, to hide my knotted fingers. All I wanted to do was step forward and smooth Ev’s lapels. They weren’t wrinkled or anything; I just wanted to smooth them for the sake of…

Get it together, Grace, I told myself. Snap out of it!

“I knew it would be a little tight,” I continued, aching. “Because James is smaller—”

“He’s not smaller, ” Isa interjected in this weird, high-pitched voice. “He’s slighter and a couple inches shorter, while you”—she gestured to Ev—“are like one of the Avengers.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” Ev deadpanned. “Truly sincere.”

“Isa, I don’t think any seams will pop,” I said. Ev hit the gym, but he wasn’t half as jacked as Captain America. “But I’ll be able to fix them if they do.” I shrugged. “You know I’m pretty good with a needle and thread.”

I also had my beloved sewing machine. My parents had given it to me when I’d turned thirteen, and I lugged its traveling case everywhere.

Isa exhaled. “Yeah, you’re right.” She nodded. “I just don’t want James to freak out.”

“Trust me, he won’t,” I said, the elevator dinging. Someone from the fifty-eighth floor was joining us. “I doubt he’d even notice. It was in the back of his closet, remember?”

“Cool it,” Ev murmured to me as a professionally dressed woman boarded our flight. He half nodded toward Isa, but with an expression I couldn’t decipher.

I didn’t dwell on it, because suddenly the elevator dinged again, and when its golden doors opened, we were warmly welcomed to the fifty-ninth floor. Jean-Georges Philadelphia, the sign outside the restaurant read.

Here we were, here we were, here we were!

Unfortunately, the hostess was not so welcoming. She gave us the same head-to-toe assessment as the lobby’s security guard had, then blinked and smiled faux-pleasantly. “May I help you?” she asked in a French accent. “Are you three lost?”

“No, she did not…, ” Ev said under his breath, and Isa let a giggle slip. It was a dead-on imitation of his sister Margot.

“Oh yes, you can help us,” I said to the hostess, returning her faux-pleasant smile. “We aren’t lost, but we do have areservation.”

“Hell yeah, she did…, ” Ev muttered.

Isa disguised her laugh with a dainty cough.

The hostess blinked again. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

I ignored her. “The last name is Barbour.”

“Barbour.” She tapped her podium’s iPad, and I swear if she said my name wasn’t there…“Yes, I see you. Only a party of three? Your parents won’t be joining you?”

I suppressed an eye roll. What does it matter if we’re teenagers? I thought. I’m about to pay you big bucks for this meal!

“No, they won’t be,” Isa chimed in, gesturing to Ev and me.“We’re students at UPenn.”

This time it was me who wanted to laugh.

The hostess raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Yes, of course,” she said, quickly gathering three menus. “Please follow me.”

Everything about the restaurant was breathtaking. The decor was sophisticated, the furniture all creams and beiges—I guess there was a right way to style neutrals—with dark wood tables, folded white napkins, fine glassware, and violet flower centerpieces.

And the view.

The view.

With glass walls, we could see the whole city. The view was panoramic, all-encompassing, sweeping—the blue sky, the Delaware River, the buildings, the streets, even the cars. “This is incredible,” Isa breathed, raising her phone for a picture. Ev and I took ours out, too. Even if I couldn’t post it anywhere, this view warranted a photo.

Jean-Georges was humming with guests, but I wasn’t about to complain about our table; it seemed like there wasn’t a bad one in the entire restaurant. Ev and I slid into a small, curved booth facing the windows, and Isa took the cushy chair across from us. While I’d determined I wasn’t afraid of heights, she’d discovered the opposite.

“Your server will be with you in a moment,” the hostess told us.

We smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“I apologize for earlier,” she added.

“Forget about it,” I chirped with a sarcastic smile. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

She blushed. “Again, your server will be with you soon.”

Then she scurried back to her podium.

Isa lowered her menu. “Okay, that was harsh.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I said.

“Grace…”

I scowled. “James would say the same thing.”

“Maybe,” Isa said, “but he’d be charming about it.”

“I was charming!”

“But with a bitchy undertone,” Ev murmured, chuckling when I kicked him under the table. My skin numbed when I felt him put his hand on my knee.

“And James isn’t here,” Isa said pointedly as my heart began to race. “Is he?”

Before I could answer, our server arrived with a carafe of water. “Hello, my name is Adrien,” he said. “Welcome to Jean-Georges. I will be your server this afternoon.” He filled each of our water glasses. “Will we be sticking with water, or would you care for another beverage?”

Isa, Ev, and I looked at one another.

Should we try? our expressions asked.

“I’ll have a glass of champagne, please,” Isa said, surprising me again today.

Adrien nodded. “Veuve Clicquot?”

Isa stayed in character. “Yes, excellent.”

“And for you?” Our server turned to Ev.

“Stoli up with an olive.” He ordered the martini easily. It had been his dad’s signature.

Another nod from Adrien, and then it was my turn. “Last but not least?”

“A cosmopolitan,” I said.

“All right, wonderful,” Adrien said. “You can expect those”—he checked his watch—“in three-to-five years, when you are indeed twenty-one.”

Isa blushed, Ev shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and my mouth might’ve dropped.

Adrien pretended not to notice. “Can I get you anything else to drink?” he asked. “While you wait for those birthdays?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’ll have a lemonade,” Isa said.

“Iced tea,” said Ev.

“Ginger ale with a splash of grenadine and cherries,” I said.

Adrien gave me a bemused look. “So a Shirley Temple?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to play things cool. “A Shirley Temple, heavy on the cherries.”

Isa and Ev cracked up once Adrien had disappeared. “You and your Shirley Temples,” Ev said, smiling and shaking his head.

I rolled my eyes. “They’re delicious!”

“They’re meant for little kids!” Isa said as Ev squeezed my knee. The two of them exchanged a smirk before she changed the subject…back to my brother. “Has James texted you again?”

“No, he’s been radio silent,” I said, placing my napkin on my lap. “Which hopefully means he’s actually paying attention in class.”

“Or he got caught with his phone,” Isa said quietly.

Under the table, I nudged Ev’s hand off my knee. My brain was going to short-circuit from all our signals today.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“Nothing.” She took a quick sip of water. “Just that he was so persistent earlier…” She trailed off as another server delivered our bread basket.

“Oh, wow,” Ev said once we’d buttered warm rolls and taken our first bites. He moaned. “These are good. ”

“Try so good, ” I said, my eyelids fluttering shut. “I wish I had room in my purse to hide some.”

The people at the next table turned and stared at us, but we didn’t care. Fancy bread at a fancy restaurant?

Come on. Live a little.

It wasn’t until Ev and I had eaten two rolls each that I realized Isa hadn’t even eaten one. She’d angled herself away to admire the view again, but had now gone completely still. “Hey, Isa,” I said. “What’s up?”

My pulse plummeted when she turned back and looked at me. All the color had drained from her face; it was as white as our napkins and frozen.

“Isa,” Ev said firmly. “Isa, say something.”

Her lips barely moved. “Look over there.”

Look over there.

I started scanning the restaurant and Ev stretched to do the same. What was Isa…?

“By the windows,” she said.

“Every wall is a window,” I responded just as my eyes landed on a table in the far corner. I blinked once, twice, three times. A couple sat together clinking champagne.

And even though I could only make out the man’s profile, I knew.

“My father,” Isa whispered a heartbeat later. “My father ishere.”