Page 124 of Just One More Thing

“No. We are not.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about.”

Lainey points at her. “She’s doing the thing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Bethany says.

“You’re doing the thing where you pretend your face is neutral.”

“My face is naturally neutral.”

“Your naturally neutral face just got neutraler,” Ainsley says.

I glance between them. “Wait. Is there—does Bethany?—“

“No,” Bethany says immediately. “Bethany hell no, does not.” She leans back in her chair and looks out toward the water. “He is loud, attention seeking and says things with the confidence of a man who has never once doubted himself and should really consider starting.”

“And?” Ainsley asks.

“And nothing.”

Ainsley looks at me. I look back at her. Neither of us says anything because some things don’t need a spotlight. They just need air.

And time.

“What’s happening with the house next door?” Lainey asks.

“Mrs. Townsend’s kids are finally cleaning it out to sell,” Bethany says.

“So sad. I remember her sitting on that porch every night to watch the sunset,” Ainsley says.

Then she stands and stretches. “I’m going to bed before I become emotionally invested in two separate unresolved romantic situations tonight.” She hugs me like we’ve known each other longer than one evening, which somehow feels accurate. Then she hugs Lainey and disappears inside.

“Me too,” Lainey says. “I have a slice of key lime pie and an enemies to lovers waiting for me.” She kisses my cheek and hugs me like she’s trying to transfer emotional support through physical contact.

“Remember, you only get a second chance at first love once.” The porch door silently closes behind her.

Bethany walks me to the end of the driveway. “He’s a good man,” she says quietly once we reach it.

I don’t pretend not to know who she means. “I know.”

“One of the best I’ve ever met.”

She squeezes my arm once and starts back toward the house. Then she stops and turns around. “Emory. Don’t let the logistics win.”

I start walking the lane toward The Point. And I think about Jake.

The way his face changes when he looks at me. The way his voice lowers when he says Mo.

How every time I try to keep this temporary, he somehow makes it feel like home instead.

I pull out my phone and tap his face in my messages.

Still awake

Yes. You still with the girls?