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I hand him the screen, watching as the weight of it sinks in. A map of bad choices, one after another. The anger’s gone, replaced by something deeper—fear. He’s just a dad now, wanting his daughter home safe and sound.
The door creaks open, and Jules steps out, her voice cautious. “Everything okay? What’s going on out here?”
When the awkward silence settles over us, I pocket a hand and stay silent. I wait for her dad to say something—anything—because it’s not my place to display the family skeletons. It’s his.
Just as her dad’s about to speak, Colby swoops in, grabbing his dad’s cigar like he’s been eavesdropping the whole time. “What does it look like? Man-time. No girls allowed.”
Jules rolls her eyes, unfazed. “More like caveman time.” Her gaze softens as she turns to me. “You ready?”
I nod. “Five minutes.”
She heads back inside, and the air shifts between her dad and me, a quiet understanding passing without a word. Colby leans against the railing, grinning. “Do you two need a moment? Or a room?”
“Smart ass,” his dad mutters, yanking the cigar back. He gives me a pat on the back. “Well, boys. Let’s light ‘er up.”
Jules’s mom gently guides Halmeoni to her seat, while Jules watches me, her eyes dancing in the soft glow of the evening. And with no makeup and hair in a ponytail, she’s breathtaking.
“Do the honors,” her dad says, handing me the lighter with a grin and a nod toward the fireworks setup.
Right. Because nothing saysFire Marshall nightmarelike three guys with zero pyrotechnic experience and a handful of YouTube tutorials.
Fuck it. Here goes nothing.
I light the fuse with my cigar, stepping back as the sparks fizzle and sputter down the line.
We all wait, staring at the dark sky, holding our breath. A beat passes. Then another. Then...
Nothing.
We’re all about to give Colby hell whenboom—a million colors explode across the mountain sky, lighting it up like the universe just birthed a Technicolor star.
The bursts of reds, blues, and golds reflect off the peaks, to the point where the world is magic and light.
Jules slides under my arm, her head resting on my shoulder as we watch in awe.
A perfect end to a perfect night.
It’s late,past midnight, and I’m wide awake.
Something about that email from Sydney Sun keeps poking at my brain like a sharp twig, refusing to let me rest. So, I sit alone, in my den, sipping rye and reading her email again and again until the words blur together.
When I blink my eyes open, there’s a new email sitting in my inbox.
A small smile tugs at my lips before I glance at the door.
Is Jules asleep?
I’m tempted to go to her when curiosity gets the better of me, and I click it open.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Media Excellence Gala Invitation
Thanks for the RSVP.
See you at the gala.
xoxo
