This actually gets my back up a bit. “Look, ever since we first hooked up, I’ve been worried about Luke’s history with girls, worried about whether I’m willing to deal with romance again, worried about whether even hanging out with him would jeopardize my friendships with you guys. But if Mia is fine, I don’t know that it’s fair for you to be upset with me over it.”
“I agree,” she says, surprisingly nodding. “And since you hadn’t brought it up with us, I assumed you didn’t care what we thought. I respected that, and was getting over it. But if you’re asking me, then I’ll tell you: yeah, I had a knee-jerk reaction when Mia called and told me. It’s one thing for Mia to see Luke banging anything that moves, and it’s another for her to imagine him falling in love again. She’s completely in love with Ansel, but of course she had feelings about Luke finding someone, even if we all know that reaction is petty, or unfair.”
Lola blinks down to the floor at this, and my heart stretches too thin inside my chest. I get it: I would never get back together with Justin, but the idea that he loves the person he’s with now—that he’s marrying her—is irrationally painful.
“Mia called me and knew that she wasn’t being totally fair, but it threw her,” Harlow continues. “Luke and Mia started ‘going steady’ in sixth grade, whatever that means. Her accident fucked us all up—a lot—and when they broke up we”—she motions between her and Lola—“had to figure out how to support Mia best. It meant we lost Luke, and that sucks. Because he was ours, see? So yeah, I had an initial reaction, and I’m not sure that it’s the right one, but it was genuine.”
I know there’s a lot of history there—there’s a lot of history here, between all these women, and sometimes it seems easier to keep it surface-level than to really work to get to know them. But with this honesty from Harlow, I know I want friends like this. I want friends who’ll worry about my emotions, even when those emotions feel petty or small.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” I tell her. “I do, and I respect it. But this isn’t about Mia, or you, or their past. It’s about me and Luke now. That’s complicated enough.” I tilt my head, saying softly, “They broke up nearly five years ago. Mia is married. This isn’t really about her anymore . . . at all.”
“I know. I know.” Harlow nods, slowly, and opens her mouth to speak before Lola cuts her off.
“Mia’s not even here,” she says, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to me, or to Harlow, or just pointing out in general that this conversation is happening without the most important component. But then she looks directly at Harlow and adds, “And if she were, she would tell us all we need to talk about something else.”
Harlow steps forward and pulls me into an unexpected hug. “I’m sorry. I want you to be happy. I want Luke to be happy.” Bracing her hands on my shoulders, she pulls away, saying quietly, “I mean, this way we all get to keep him, right?”
“Right,” I tell her. “But I don’t really know yet what that means for me.” I smile at her, shrugging. “So it would be awesome if I could figure that out without having to worry about you getting mad at me if I decide I want more, okay?”
“Okay.” She nods, pulling me into another hug, squeezing me tighter. “But if he hurts you, I’m beheading him.”
“Okay, Crazytown.”
But despite my teasing, my laugh ruffles her hair, and I squeeze her tighter, too.
Chapter FOURTEEN
Luke
NEVER DO I feel more like an underling than when lawyers pile their stacks of briefs in my arms at the end of a meeting, and pat my back as they file out for lunch.
“Send upstairs to Records, would you?” Kevin asks, dropping a folder in my hands.
“Five copies,” Roger says with a friendly wink as he gives me a heavy file. “Just put them on my desk when you’re done.”
“Same,” Lisa says over her shoulder. “Thanks, Danny.”
I go to correct her—there are only two of us interns, and Danny is the short, black one—but she’s already halfway down the hall.
Turning, I see London standing near my cubicle, with an amused smile on her face. My stomach tightens and I immediately remember her smile after she kissed me last night.
I texted her this morning after we babysat together, but in typical London fashion, she didn’t answer. The strange thing was, it didn’t really bother me. I know that London is struggling with her feelings, and how they’re tied into her friendships with Lola and Mia and Harlow. I know that what she’s going through actually has very little to do with me at all, and that I need to be patient. To be honest, patience has never really been my strong suit and it’s killing me a little, but I’ve already come to terms with the fact that London is important, and I’ve got far longer than a few weeks of patience in me.
“Need some help, Danny?” she asks.
I laugh, readjusting the load in my arms. My happiness in seeing her partially overrides the humiliation of what she’s witnessed. “What are you doing here?”
She is glowing. She’s wearing an orange sundress and sandals; her hair is down and soft, hanging long past her shoulders. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it looking like it isn’t windblown.
Fuck, I think I love her.
Something grows tight inside my chest, and I reach with a free hand to loosen my tie.
She holds up a recyclable grocery sack. “I brought us some lunch. I thought you might be hungry.”
With this, she has just completely made my day. “You’re probably the most amazing person alive right now, do you know that?” She shrugs, jokingly waving her hand forward for me to continue. “And the prettiest. And the best surfing teacher. And, if I may get personal, your rack—”
“Shhh!” she cuts in, stepping toward me, her hand coming up to cover my mouth. We’re essentially alone in the hallway, but she does a quick glance around anyway.
I lift the pile in my arms, smiling in apology. “Do you want to go grab a picnic table outside and I’ll meet you in five?”
With a little blushing smile, she nods and walks back toward the front of the offices.
Never in my life have I made photocopies so fast.
Never at this job have I sprinted up the stairs to the Records office to drop off a set of files.
And never did I ever expect London to show up and want to have lunch with me.
* * *
IT’S SEVENTY-FIVE DEGREES out, the air smells like the ocean, I can hear seagulls calling just across the street near the beach, and there is not a visible cloud in the sky. In fact, it’s so beautiful outside I know I won’t want to go back in after lunch. It’s one of the reasons I tend to eat at my desk; the job is a painful slog, the paralegals and lawyers seem to love treating me like the village idiot, and our offices are across the street from the Pacific Ocean. I keep reminding myself being a legal intern is a rite of passage and will be over soon enough, but looking up and seeing London out here in the sunshine, unpacking a big bag of food, makes the prospect of returning to my cubicle feel impossible.
“Hey, Logan,” I call.
She looks up and smiles, but her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open just as a voice comes from behind me: “Hey, Sutter.”