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“We’re going to live here,” Margo says, quiet, almost testing the words. “Actually live here. You and me and them.”
“Yeah.” I pull her into me, resting my chin on top of her head, looking out at the pool and the courtyard and the whole small, real life waiting for us inside these walls. “We are.”
The barbecue at Raven House happens two days later, the whole backyard full in the specific way it gets full when everyone who matters shows up at once.
Beau is running the grill, one-handed no longer necessary since the brace has been off for months, Cash beside him giving him grief about something. Wyatt’s manning a cooler with the specific quiet competence he brings to everything. Sloane, Wren, June, Priya, Kara, and Delaney are scattered across the yard in the loose, easy configuration of a friend group that’s stopped needing an occasion to gather — lawn chairs dragged out, someone’s speaker playing low, the whole afternoon carrying the particular ease of a group that’s spent a full year becoming something closer to family than friends. With the exception of Priya, Kara and Delaney. They’re on the cheer squad with Margo, and from what she’s told me about them, they’ve been good to her.
Margo and I arrive together, straight from the apartment, and something about the way we’re standing gives it away before either of us says a word — no careful distance, no calculated angle, just her hand in mine like it’s always belonged there. We haven’t planned this exactly. We didn’t sit down and decide today’s the day. It just happens, the specific inevitability of two people who’ve spent seven months being careful finally forgetting to be careful in front of the right room full of people.
Cash spots it first.
“WAIT.” He drops the spatula, actually drops it, pointing at us with the specific delighted horror of a man watching a theory he’s held for months finally confirmed in real time. “Are you two — is this — WYATT!”
“I see it,” Wyatt says. Calm. Unbothered. He pulls out his phone, taps something, and looks up. “You owe me forty dollars.”
“I owe YOU forty dollars? I’ve been saying it was them since March!”
“You bet against yourself in February,” Wyatt says, deadpan. “I have the receipts.”
“That doesn’t count, I was hedging —”
“You bet Beau it wasn’t real, and Beau took the bet even though he apparently already knew, which frankly feels like fraud —”
Beau, over by the grill, raises both hands in mock innocence. “I never bet against it. I just let you two argue about something I already knew the answer to. That’s not fraud, that’s entertainment.”
“You KNEW?” Cash rounds on him, betrayed. “This whole time?”
“Since January.” Beau shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “Sloane told me. I’ve been watching you two run this bet into the ground for months, purely for my own amusement.”
The whole yard’s laughing now, the specific loose chaos of a group that’s just gotten confirmation of something they all half-knew anyway, and I catch Margo’s eye across the yard, both of us caught somewhere between embarrassed and relieved that the secret, such as it was, is finally, fully over.
“Okay, but for real,” Priya says, once the noise settles. “How long has this actually been going on?”
“January,” Margo admits. Sheepish. “Since right after the party.”
“JANUARY.” Delaney looks personally wounded. “You didn’t tell me for four months, Margo. Four months.”
“I know.”
“I’m not even mad, I’m impressed.” Kara raises her drink. “That’s genuinely elite-level secret-keeping.”
“It’s not, though.” Cash points his spatula at the group, entirely too pleased with himself. “It’s actually the worst-kept secret in the history of secrets. We all had suspicions. Wren, June, Sloane — all of you had theories at some point. Wyatt and I had an actual running bet. Beau apparently just knew and said nothing, which I’m choosing to be offended about separately.”
“I never said I didn’t suspect,” Wren says, mildly. “I just didn’t need it confirmed to know it was true.”
“Same,” June agrees. “I’ve had my suspicions since Christmas, honestly.”
“See?” Cash gestures around at all of them. “Worst-kept secret. You two thought you were being subtle. You were not being subtle.” He pauses, and I can see the exact moment a worse idea occurs to him, delight spreading across his face. “So all the times I heard your headboard tapping the wall was really you just tapping Margo?”
Margo’s whole face goes bright pink, mortified, and she buries it in her hands while the rest of the yard dissolves into laughter around her.
“Cash,” she says, muffled, through her fingers.
“I’m just saying, the walls at Raven House are not as thick as you’d think —”
“Okay, that’s enough.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into my side, half-laughing myself despite the secondhand mortification radiating off her. “Ignore him. He’s been saving that one up for months, clearly.”
“I absolutely have,” Cash confirms, entirely unrepentant. “It was worth the wait.”
