Page 93 of All Our Nevers

“Look.” Owen leans forward, elbows on the table in a relaxed but confident posture. “None of this is called for. We’ve been on a few dates, and we’re hooking up. That’s all.”

“Define hooking up,” Sophie says.

“Let me put it this way, Soph,” I say. “You weren’t kidding about the Walsh family endowment.”

“Alright.” Nolan pops up, hands raised. “That’s it. I’m out.”

Andy pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, Lia.”

“Actually that’s your brother’s job.”

“Okay!” Sophie claps her hands together brightly. “I guess we deserved that. But this is your official notice: you two have to get married now because we won’t have you messing up the dynamic at the SALON.”

“Oh yeah. What a great way to maintain a normal dynamic,” I say. “Call a formal meeting to tell two consenting adults they can’t have sex outside of marriage.”

“First of all,” Sophie says, “I am literally following your playbook, my love. Secondly, you can have as much sex as you want outside of marriage, you just have to end up married afterwards.”

“This is supremely weird,” I say. “You realize that, right?”

“Yeah come on, Sophie,” Owen says. “This is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be distracted with wedded bliss right now?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Owen agrees. “How was your honeymoon anyway? Can we talk about that?”

“No,” Sophie says. “We’re talking about you two right now.”

I lean towards Owen and stage-whisper, “Must not have been a very good honeymoon.”

He huffs his agreement. “Well, it was my brother’s first time having sex, so he probably wasn’t very good at it.”

“I’ve got some videos favorited on Pornhub that I could send them for reference,” I say.

“Can I take a look first?”

“If you’re lucky.”

By that point all three of my friends have stormed away from the table, dissolving this charade of a meeting by the grace of God.

When it’s only me and Owen left, he says, “You really are exceptional at getting annoying people to go away.”

“It helps that I’m an annoying person myself,” I explain. “I know what makes them tick.”

My phone buzzes with a text against the wooden table.

In recent months, my body has developed the annoying habit of physically recoiling at that sound, expecting it to be another message from Connor even though I’ve since blocked his number as well as several unknown numbers I suspect were him. I’ve considered getting a new phone number myself, but what would I tell NASA? My parents? I can’t. Better to push through, force my body and mind to behave, pray he gets tired of it all.

Yet this time, when I force myself to flip the screen over, the message I find there has my heart racing for a totally different reason.

“What is it?” Owen asks, seeing the expression on my face.

“It’s Guy,” I say, my eyes flying over the text. “He finally talked to his cousin, the one with that boutique that’s hiring designers. She’s willing to meet with me, but she won’t be back in Boston until October. He said we could do a video call in the meantime instead, or if I ‘find myself in Paris’ I could meet with her sooner.” I say the Paris bit with a tone that acknowledges how ludicrous it is.

“That’s great, Lia.” His big hand comes to rest on my shoulder, pride radiating through the warmth there. “Either way, that’s a huge step.”

“I guess,” I say, feeling deflated. “It’s just such a tactile art form. I wanted her to be able to feel the fabrics and textures and… whatever. No, you’re right, it’s still good. I’ll just wait for October. I’ll have to rework my schedule for the rest of the year but—”

“You could always go to Paris.”