Camden flicks her auburn hair, then says to the two of them into the mic, “If you insist.”
She belts out another tune, mesmerizing the audience.
Camden and I walk home together after her last set. In a comfortable lull in our usual chitchat, she nudges my elbow. “So, Paris is soon. Will you do our list?”
“Obviously.” How could I forget our Someday in Europe After Graduation list.
“Good. I might need you to add a few things.” Camden taps her chin, staring at the starless Manhattan sky. “Like, have dinner with a handsome Frenchman. Or a handsome American.”
“That won’t happen.”
She hums doubtfully. “I don’t know. Seems like you two can’t keep your hands off each other. Or his dick out of your mouth,” she adds as we pass a martini bar, Olive and Dry, with evening crowds spilling onto the open terrace.
“Why do I tell you anything?” I faux lament.
“Because you love me,” she says, batting her lashes.
“Truly, madly, and deeply.” I mean that from the bottom of my weird, reserved, wounded heart. The heart that had been craving friendship—and has found it again with my crew.
“Will you take lots of pics and send me stories? Regale me with tales of Paris. Who knows if I’ll ever go?”
“Oh, you’ll go,” I say confidently. “You’ll sing on some big stage. Perform with a hot guitarist or something. And become an international sensation.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure your dinner with a sexy American is more likely.”
“Stop it, you enabler,” I say, shushing her. “Nothing more is happening.”
Even if I were to take that risk, I couldn’t see Finn doing so. My father’s friendship means too much to him, and already I care enough about Finn that I don’t want to damage that. Friendship is precious.
Back when my sister and I were teenagers, Willa was the connective tissue for our whole big group—Taylor, Hannah, Josh, Ollie, and Emma…After she died at that pool party late one summer night, we never put ourselves back together again. We’ve all gone our separate ways. But Willa was my best friend—my OG bestie. She’s a piece of my heart that I’ll never retrieve.
I have new friends now, and I’m lucky. My dad has Finn, and I also don’t want my father to hurt again.
I steer the convo back to Camden. “Did I get a vibe tonight with you and a certain musician in the audience?”
“He was with his girlfriend,” she says, knowing exactly who I meant.
“And?”
“And he was with his girlfriend,” she repeats.
“But he seemed to enjoy watching you.”
“Because he likes music,” she insists, but I stir the pot the rest of our walk. It keeps my mind off my own forbidden wishes.
But I don’t talk about Finn again with any of my other friends. I don’t return to The Scene, either, not even when Scarlett asks me if I want to fill in a third time. “It’s a modern costume party and the theme is devils and angels,” she tells me one evening on the phone as I’m heading home from the office.
I’m tempted, partly because I spotted a sexy angel costume at my favorite thrift shop recently. The skirt is so short it ought to be illegal. I’d love to wear it and pretend to be good while being very bad.
But I can’t put myself in the path of temptation. And I definitely don’t want to see Finn there picking up other women in shorter white skirts or tight red corsets that boost their boobs.
I grind my teeth at the awful thoughts. Those are truly awful, not just intrusively awful. “I wish,” I say to Scarlett. “But I’m too busy with work.” And that’s true. Prepping for the production will keep me busy till I leave at the end of the month.
One afternoon in the office, Bridger and I Zoom with Solange Marina, the show’s executive producer, who I’ll be working with in Paris. Bridger introduces me as his rising-star producer. It’s embarrassing but wonderful to hear too.
“I’m happy to help with anything,” I tell her.
“I look forward to keeping you busy,” she says, and she’s hard to read, but she’s efficient and I like that.
Over the next week, I stay busy prepping for Paris. I’ve researched the city countless times, planned my workdays, and mapped out what to do with my free time in the evenings.
I’m almost ready to visit the city I’ve always dreamed of visiting.
A few nights before my flight, I pop into An Open Book after work and peruse the new releases, hunting for a juicy memoir or a dishy tell-all for the plane. I’m flipping through the pages of a just-released celebrity biography when I startle at a voice calling, “Inside feet.”
When I peer over the display, there’s Finn striding across the plush, sapphire carpet. He’s wearing dark blue slacks and a crisp charcoal shirt, and his hand curls over the shoulder of a little boy who looks remarkably like him—same dark hair, green eyes, and impish grin.
Finn slows his son before the boy can race down the main aisle of the store. I don’t think he’s seen me yet, shielded by a shelf with titles like When I Was Young and Tie One On. I feel like a spy, and it’s wildly fun to see them together. A little mesmerizing too.
“Sorry, Dad. But I just want the new Captain Dude so badly,” his kid says, insistent and eager as he stretches out the last word.
I just can’t resist. I become the bold one as I step out from behind the shelves and say to Finn’s back, “The new one is so good.”
He stops and turns, but it takes a few seconds for him to process seeing me here, which amuses me too. “Oh. Hey. Jules.”
Are his cheeks a touch pinker than usual? I’ve never seen him flustered. It’s borderline adorable. “I didn’t know you shopped here.” His kid escapes him and motors down the aisle, hellbent on his destination in kid lit.
“Or I you,” I say dryly.
“Zach likes it.” He gestures to the speed demon. “I should make sure he doesn’t knock any shelves over in the rush to get his new book.” He studies me for a beat, and I imagine the gears turning in his head. “Do you want to join us?”
That wasn’t on my to-do list tonight. But checking out books with a child seems safe. “Sure,” I say, and I don’t hide the smile I feel. It’s nice to be invited.
As we head to the children’s section, Finn holds up a finger like he’s pausing and rewinding something in his head. “Did you just say the new Captain Dude was good?”
Ah, I’d been waiting for him to catch up to my comment. “I did. I read it while I worked out this morning. On my Kindle,” I add.
“You…did?” Finn asks.
I’ve really shocked Mister Tycoon now. This is fun. I think I’ll keep doing it. “Well, I was dying to know what’d happened in Metropolisville since the last adventure,” I say. “Especially after they saved the city from the runaway train. Or should I say, saved the chocolate on the runaway train.”
“Yes!” interjects a young voice beside us. The boy talks as fast as he moves. “I was so stoked when they got to eat the chocolate. But the dog didn’t eat it. Dogs can’t eat chocolate.”