Page 4 of Ship Happens

“Were you going to reply to them?”

“I’m working.” Not like that’s mattered before. Owen leans back against the counter, rearing his head as he stares at the ceiling. “And you didn’t say anything in them.”

“Right, that’s because I didn’t want to talk to you about this over text.” Kaitlyn’s voice has an uncertainty to it. It reminds Owen of when they hardly knew each other, back when Kaitlyn was fresh from her undergraduate program and Owen was fresh from flunking out of his junior year, the both of them taking work at a Mediterranean restaurant in the Haight.

Only in recent years had Kaitlyn found the courage to admit to Owen that she was frightened when she’d met him for the first time. “Not in like a threatening way,” she’d said halfway into a can of spiked Mountain Dew Baja Blast. “More like you were a stray cat, and I knew I had to earn your trust.”

“Is that why you gave me those cinnamon candies every day?” Owen spat.

Even after Kaitlyn eventually left the restaurant to start her doctorate program, they stayed close friends, eventually becoming roommates for a few years. Owen had hugged Kaitlyn through her nastiest breakups, helped make sure she ate actual food when the pressure from school was at its worst.

And Kaitlyn had been the one who talked Owen through what he wanted to do with his life after flunking out, which is how he started learning to tattoo. She’d even been the first actual person who Owen had tattooed besides himself. He’d shaken the entire time he was inking the rabbit on her upper thigh. But she’d trusted him, yapped through the entire thing, did whatever she could to distract Owen from the fear that he was permanently maiming his best friend’s body.

That tattoo is still one of his favorites, even after hundreds of others, after he’s learned so much and his skills have undoubtedly improved.

“Just tell me when I’m home,” he says to Kaitlyn, checking the clock on the wall. “It’ll be another hour, maybe two.”

“That’s also the thing . . .” She pauses. “I didn’t know how to tell you in person.”

“So you waited until I went to work?” Owen says warily.

“Yup.” Her lips pop on the p.

“Okay . . .” Owen pinches the bridge of his nose, already exhausted with how this conversation is going. “What’s up?”

“Firstly, are you coming to the Christmas party tomorrow? You didn’t RSVP.” Her voice is suddenly normal again, as if nothing suspicious at all is happening.

“Kaitlyn, I’m sleeping in your guest room,” Owen reminds her before remembering that a client is just a few feet away. “I sort of figured my presence was a given.”

“Okay, well, usually when you’re sent an invitation, you hit either yes or no to indicate to the host whether you’re coming or not.”

She’s not wrong; Owen can’t fault her.

“I’m coming,” he says.

“Okay. Favor number two—”

“Two favors? You’re pushing it.” He tries his best to make a joke. He’s never really been all that good at differentiating his tone between serious and sarcastic. Thankfully, Kaitlyn always seems to know for him.

“Hardy-har. Tomorrow, Abby can handle picking up dinner, but I was thinking that we need some desserts.”

“And you just assume that I’m prepared to spend all tomorrow baking?”

“Like you mind,” Kaitlyn scoffs. “Besides, I checked the freezer, and you’ve already got cookie dough stockpiled.”

“Who is coming?”

“Abigail and me, obviously. Kevin’s coming up from San Jose. And Hailey and Ravi will be there, but they’re dropping Pari off with Ravi’s mom, so it’s a kid-free zone.”

“As if you’ve never been drunk in front of her before.”

“That happened once!” Kaitlyn reminds him. “And she was fine. I’m still convinced it made me a better babysitter.”

“I looked after her for the rest of the night while you were passed out on the couch!”

“Of course you’re taking credit for a woman’s work.” Kaitlyn tsk-tsks him. “Typical man. Besides, there will be no drinking for me tomorrow.”

“Getting ahead of your resolutions?”