Kristen’s question interrupted his brooding, and thoughts of Tori vanished.
“Yeah. Next week.” He nodded, feeling a different kind of weight on his chest now. “I’m going to be so damn relieved when it’s done.”
“I’m sure.” Blake clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got this.”
James grunted.
Blake’s hand tightened on his shoulder, to the point where James lifted his attention to meet his friend’s solemn stare.
“You’ve got this,” Blake repeated, so calmly and confidently that James felt any doubt slip away.
“You’re right. I do.”
Blake let him go, cracked a beer, and handed it to James.
“Here. Kristen thought you might want one.”
“Thanks, man.” James accepted the beer, even as a sliver of self-consciousness slipped through him.
It was always a little weird drinking around Blake. His friend hadn’t touched alcohol since the day he’d been in a car accident when one of their frat brothers had driven drunk.
Blake had been the only survivor, and it’d flipped his life upside down. He’d stopped drinking completely, dropped out of the UW’s prestigious business school, and become a paramedic after being inspired by the ones that had saved his life.
Damn, his friend had really come far.
“And you know what we’re going to do once you pass the bar?” Kristen chimed in. “We’re going to throw you a big-ass party with all your friends to celebrate.”
“I am one hundred percent on board with that.”
Right now? Nothing sounded better.
*
“So, I hearyou’re working at the same law firm as my brother?”
Tori choked on the bite of eggs Benedict she’d just popped into her mouth.
She put up a finger in the silent “give me a second” and took a swig of coffee.
Wow, James had really moved fast on giving his sister the gossip.
“I am.” She nodded. “I’m sorry. I suck for not texting you when I got the job. Things just got chaotic fast. I needed to buy, like, real clothes. Nice stuff. Not sexy clubbing stuff, or my other staples, which are joggers and tank tops.”
“Oh yeah, I bet.” Kristen gave a knowing nod, her eyes glittering with amusement. “Like, pantsuits and stuff.”
“I find I prefer skirts.”
“And why wouldn’t you? If I had legs like yours, I’d be showing them off all day in every way.”
“It’s more finding pants that actually fit my tall body lengthwise. And you have lovely legs.”
“I am actually what most would call short”—Kristen pointed her fork at Tori—“which means I have short, stumpy legs.”
“Your legs are not stumpy.” Tori snorted. “And I’m betting Blake isn’t complaining when they’re wrapped around his waist in bed.”
Kristen’s face turned red, and Tori couldn’t hide her laugh of delight. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget her friend had been a virgin this time last year. The blushing was always a good reminder.
“You have zero discretion,” Kristen hissed, but then her expression turned smug. “But you’re correct. Zero complaints.”