“So, what now?” Bree asks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. I can keep working on furniture and selling it to stay afloat. But I think I’m going to find a job away from any type of camera or anything having to do with news.”
“We’re hiring at the bank,” Alex says, referring to CT Anderson Bank, where he works and where Holly used to work.
“I could use an assistant,” Holly says. Her professional organization company has gotten quite a bit of business as of late.
“You can come work for me at the firm,” Thomas adds. “I’ll tell everyone you’re my mistress. It’ll be fun.”
“Ew. No, thanks,” I say, crinkling my nose at Thomas.
“Don’t forget me,” Bree says. “You can come serve tables with me. All those tourists are so much fun to serve food to.” We all laugh at her blatant sarcasm. She’s complained enough about her job that we all know how much she hates it.
“You guys are the best,” I say. “I think I just need some time. Maybe a little time off to figure out what I really want. It all just feels really crappy right now.”
“I get it. It wasn’t that long ago that I was sitting right where you are, probably in that same chair, and definitely in this same restaurant, thinking my life was falling apart,” Holly says.
“And look at her now,” Thomas exclaims. “Practically perfect in every way.”
“It’s true,” Holly says, blinking her eyes rapidly at Thomas, giving him her best cheesy grin. She turns to me. “All I’m saying is, you never know where you’ll end up.”
“Yeah, Quinn,” Bree pipes in. “This could end up being the best thing to happen to you.”
“Or the worst, and you’ll end up living in your parents’ garage,” Thomas says with a tilt of his head and a lift of his shoulders.
“Thank you for that, Thomas,” I say dryly.
“I’m just keeping it real.”
“Well, I think whatever you do, you’ll be amazing,” Alex says.
I beam at him. Alex has always been the most positive person in our little group, thank goodness for him.
Right now I can use all the positivity I can get.
Chapter 26
“So are you going to watch it?” Holly asks as I exit the bathroom, drying my still-damp hands on my shirt. Bree, Holly, and I are all sitting in the small living room of my apartment. All squished together on my white sofa, all in our pajamas. I’ve got on my favorite cupcake shirt-and-shorts set, and my hair is thrown up in a messy bun on my head.
“I thought you both came over tonight to keep me from watching it,” I say to Holly as I take a seat on the couch in between the two of them.
It’s Tuesday evening and the news is about to start. It’s Henry’s last day of the feature, when he picks one of the women he went out with to go on a second date.
“We did,” Bree says. “But when you went to the bathroom, we decided that maybe you should.”
“Yeah, Quinn,” Holly says. “Besides, I checked, and you were already recording it on the DVR.”
“You snoop!” I say, slapping her lightly on her leg. “Just because I was recording it doesn’t mean I was going to watch it.”
“Exactly,” Bree says. “Just because I buy myself an ice cream cone doesn’t mean I’m going to eat it.”
“Good point,” Holly says.
“No, it’s not,” I say. “It’s dumb. Why would you buy an ice cream cone if you weren’t going to eat it? Oh . . . Wait, I see. The ice cream cone is the recording.”
“Exactly,” Bree says. “I don’t doubt for a second that you’d have watched it.”
“And wouldn’t it be better if we were here with you?” Holly says.
I let out a breath. “You’re right. Let’s watch it.”
I reach over to the coffee table, grab the remote, and turn on the television, and Channel 4 instantly pulls up since I’ve been watching the newscast fairly often. I’d told myself it was therapeutic, but seeing Moriarty on there doing the evening news with perfect red lipstick and her job still intact made me want to throw things. Namely, my television.
Of course, I could also be sitting there at noon, still doing the midday report. But I chose not to be.
Henry never texted again after the one time. My fanciful brain would come up with grandiose ideas where he’d show up at my door, in the rain, asking me to forgive him for everything, and I’d of course take him back and we’d live happily ever after. But that never happened. Plus, I live in a high-rise apartment, so the rain thing was a little far-fetched. The whole thing was a bit over the top. But that’s my brain for you.
“It’s on,” Holly says, tapping me on the arm with her hand as if my eyes weren’t already glued to the television.
The music for the news comes on, and the intro featuring Moriarty and the rest of the team fills my fifty-inch flat screen. Bree makes a gagging noise when Moriarty’s face comes into view.
“She just looks annoying,” she says, pointing at the screen.
“Oh, I’ve met her,” Holly says, having been able to meet a lot of the anchors when she was doing her feature. “She’s Satan’s spawn for sure.”
“I don’t know if I’ve said it enough, but I really love you guys,” I say to them both.
Holly lays her head on my shoulder. “Back at ya,” she says.
We watch as they start the news, with Moriarty on first, saying that they will have Henry on at the end of the news hour to announce who he plans to pick for his second date. The camera pans over to Henry, waiting in the wings, who gives a little wave to the camera, one hand in the pocket of his dark jeans. He’s wearing a light-blue button-up, and his dark hair is perfectly styled. And he looks absolutely dreamy.
My heart, which has mostly felt broken for the last few days, does a little jumping thing in my chest, as if it had been dormant and just came back to life from seeing Henry’s face on the screen. I knew it would be hard to see him, but I didn’t think it would be this hard.
“We have to wait nearly an hour?” Bree whines.
“Let’s order food, then,” Holly says, patting her stomach. “I’m starving.”
We order pizza, and it arrives faster than expected, and nearly an hour later, we’ve all eaten and are sitting on the couch awaiting Henry’s appearance.
I feel a little sick to my stomach. It could be the third piece of pizza my body didn’t want but I ate anyway, or it could be that I’m about to see Henry. Or it could be both.
“I’m not sure I want to watch this,” I say, wondering if maybe I should turn it off.
“You’re going to watch it whether it’s today or tomorrow,” Holly says. “And we all know it.”
“Yeah, so just get it over with,” Bree says. “Rip off the bandage fast.”
“Plus, we’re here for you,” Holly says. “You shouldn’t watch this alone.”
I blow air upward out my mouth, fluffing the hair that had escaped from my messy bun as I do. “Fine.”
“Shhhh,” Holly says, pointing toward the television. “It’s on.”