Page 6 of My Best Friend's Sister

“Reading self-help books is only nutty if you never take action on the ideas they inspire.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” he said. “I remember you saying you were going to do that.”

“Well, they offered me an internship.”

His face lit up. “Maddy, that’s fantastic!”

“I know,” I said, sparing him the monologue he’d heard a million times about how depressed my receptionist job made me. “But it’s unpaid.”

“So what? The bottom of a ladder you want to climb beats a ladder with no fucking rungs at all.”

“I can’t afford it,” I said. “My dream is to work in fashion, not for free.”

His face furrowed. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. This is your lucky break! Please don’t fail to realize that just because the opportunity’s arrived in an unappealing package.”

I nibbled my lip. I knew he was right, knew I’d always wonder what if I’d just sucked it up and been poor for a while. Hell, I was already poor. Wasn’t being poor and happy better than being poor and miserable?

“If you don’t take it, you’ll always wonder what would’ve happened if you had.”

He knew me too well.

“It’s like this London thing for me,” he said, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window again. “It’s not that I want to leave my comfort zone. It’s that if I don’t, I’m playing small. Wimping out. Closing myself off to a new experience.”

I imagined his friendship with Quinn had more than prepared him for all the stiff upper lip he was in for.

“Dead-end receptionist jobs will always be there,” he said. “You owe it to yourself to at least give this internship a try.”

I nodded slowly, processing his words. “I’ll talk to Kiki. Maybe she can spot me for a bit or ask her boyfriend to start chipping in or something.”

“Her boyfriend?”

“He basically lives with us.”

Disgust twisted his face. “So you’re the third wheel in your own goddamn place?”

“I’d say the mess Kiki’s boyfriend makes is the third wheel these days.” I thought of how many times I’d picked up the Pop Tarts wrappers he left in his wake, how many times I’d slipped on the boxers he abandoned on the bathroom floor. To be honest, I couldn’t even remember the last time my side of the couch was free. “I’m more of a dispassionate observer.”

“So you should stay at my place for a while,” James said. “Maeve was right.”

“For the love of God, let’s not tell her that.”

He lurched back as if his shocked expression had landed with force. “You think I’m crazy? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I grinned.

“Shame she couldn’t have come tonight,” he said, failing to hide his disappointment. “But I know how she is about her job.”

I wondered what excuse she gave for blowing off his party and felt a little smug knowing she’d trusted me with gossip she hadn’t shared with him. It was juvenile of me to feel that way, but I was never privy to their secrets growing up because I wasn’t “old enough,” so I couldn’t help but be delighted whenever either of them confided in me now.

I understood Maeve’s position, though, so I wasn’t about to blow her cover. Making small talk with James’s fancy friends made her want to fork her eyes out. Plus, if she admitted she was staying in to look at a baby batter catalogue, it would’ve launched him into that over-protective mode where he forgets he’s not, in fact, her big brother, too.

“The offer’s there, anyway,” he said. “I haven’t promised the place to anyone else, and I’d be so happy to know I was helping you chase your dream.”

“I appreciate that, James. I do. But I’m not sure it’s entirely your decision.”

His eyes pinged left to right like he was looking around for who the fuck’s decision it might be. “What are you talking about?”

I squinted at him. Was he really that dense? “Don’t you need to maybe run it by Quinn?”

“Quinn?” he asked, stuffing his neck back. “Why the hell would he have a problem with it?”

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