I stand there feeling a bit sick for a moment, staring into the empty soup pot on my stove. After Atticus left last night, I ate soup and dipped bread into the broth, devouring every last drop. Then I heated the cookie and ate it with a huge glass of milk. And I slept so freaking good last night.
A smile lifts my lips, and the worry of contacting the Brutes seems to fade away as I remember last night.
We had fun.
Hell, we had funall weekend. And I got a job. No matter what a fuckin’ tool Reynold is, I got this job, and someone at the Brutes will confirm I worked there. They will not ruin this for me.
Pushing myself off the counter, I hold my head high and shoulders back before dialing Beck.
“Hey, how are you?” she says, a little out of breath. I consider that I interrupted some morning nookie, but then I look at the clock and realize Beau is likely at work. Then I hear the voice of a hungry baby. “Okay, okay, I’m putting you in the high chair now, buddy,” my friend says to her son.
“Hey, Jetster,” I greet in case I’m on speakerphone. “Is this a bad time?” Kids are high maintenance. Kids make Mariah Carey look low-key. They have naps at specific times—notapproximatebut to the minute, or else they don’t sleep. They have snack times and meal times, and times where they have to be read to and stimulated and Jesus. It’s too much.
“Naa,” Beck says, always the cool and collected mom. “Just getting him a snack. He's been a littleextralately because he’s cutting teeth.”
“Ahh,” I say. “Well then, if it’s not a bad time, are you ready for my good news?”
“Um,always.”
I pause, grinning to myself because… I was not really qualified for this job, but I did it. I went in there and I fucking owned that space and I did it. “I got the job I interviewed for last week.”
“Goldie!” Beck screams my name in celebration. “Oh my god! Goldie! I amsoproud of you! Iknewyou’d crush it!”
We squeal together in a way that only best friends do, even when they’re almost forty.
“Selfishly, I’m happy for me because working there means you’restayingin Oakcreek.”
“I know. You get to keep me!”
She laughs. “Thank god! I may have had an emotional breakdown if you moved back to the city now!”
“No breakdowns! I’m here to stay!” I beam, feeling so good that instead of my usual cup of coffee and nothing else, I reach into the open Ziploc bag of chocolate chip cookies that Edie packed and take a bite of one.
“Let’s celebrate. Seriously. Come over for dinner tonight.”
“I don’t actually go in for paperwork until next week. Should we wait?” I ask, the issue of contacting the Brutes still existing in the back of my mind.
“Fork, no!” Beck practically shouts back, earning a shout from Jett in the background. “Come tonight. Seriously. You got the job. We are celebrating. End of story.”
“What can I bring?” I ask while the world’s biggest smile curls my lips.
“Just yourself. Seriously. Do not bring anything. This is to celebrate you!”
We set our dinner plans for around six since Beau is usually done at Wrench Kings around that time. The weather has let up overnight, making navigating the roads less difficult. When Beau and Miller jumped and then brought my car back, they put chains on my tires too. Even if it’s stormy out tonight, I’m going to Beck’s and we are going to celebrate.
She’s right. I deserve this.
* * *
“Hey, boo,”Beck calls as I push inside her house. “Did you treat yourself today to celebrate?” she asks, coming around the corner with a dish towel slung over one shoulder, Jett on her opposite hip.
“Hey,” I respond as we bump shoulders in a loose hug, trying not to squash Jetster. “Not really, and I feel weird showing up empty- handed,” I tell her as I hang my purse on the hook lining the wall. She waves me into the kitchen behind her.
“Don’t even. It’s your night to celebrate.” She floats her hand over the kitchen island where there is a spread of bomb ass food–a taco bar. “Tacos, any way you could want them.” She beams at me as I take in her charcuterie spread of taco toppings. Diced tomatoes, fresh guacamole, sliced onions, fresh sauteed peppers and onions, shredded lettuce, sour cream, greek yogurt, green sauce, hot sauce, salsa, cabbage salsa, ground turkey, beef, chicken, soft shells, hard shells, three varieties of cheese, a few colors of beans and a row of craft beer behind it.
“Holy sh–shark,” I correct, giving her a satisfied smile that I did indeed remember my baby-safe curse word. “Beck, you guys outdid yourselves. This looks great.” I reach around her shoulder and pull her into a hug, squashing Jett’s leg a little this time. But holy crap. This looks amazing, and it looks like it was a buttload of work.
“Just thank me because Beau is running late,” she says, lowering Jett to the floor. He shouts Beau’s name on repeat as he toddles out of the kitchen, heading toward the living room where he will undoubtedly start tearing apart the house. Beck waves her hand as if to say let him go, and I turn my focus back to her.