Page 4 of Shifted

"Hmm, I'll have to think about it.” Her face dropped from my response, causing me to laugh. She lifted her cloth napkin and chucked it across the table from me. "I mean, I want to be there for you. I just don't think I'm there yet. You know?" She reaches for my hand, playing along, and takes a deep breath.

"I know you’re scared, but…" I stared up at the ceiling in conflict, shaking my head. Her hand squeezed mine lightly, and I looked at her.

"I just, I don't know.” I cut her off as a slow smile crept onto my face.

"So, is that a yes?"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Bella, of course! I would be honored." I stood from my seat, pulling her into my arms as she squealed excitedly. I felt the lingering stares from the restaurant's tenants, “I’m sorry, I just found out my best friend is getting married!” The reveal causes a wave of applause and a teary-eyed Bella. I couldn’t believe it.

"We were thinking about the harbor in May?"

"I'll be there with my captain's hat and Joely dressed as a mermaid." She squeezed me once more with excitement and ushered me to sit back down. Her cheeks flushed, and her face filled with emotion. The waitress finally approached our table promptly after our excitement to take our order and give congratulations.

"Can we have two glasses of Moët, please?" She nodded, and as she turned away, Bella looked at me, skeptical of my offer.

"Hope." She warns.

"You're getting married. We have to have champagne!" My voice filled with delight as she giggled. It was a time to celebrate. But as we sat, I watched as her face changed. I knew nerves filled her with this engagement, and I couldn’t believe she was about to get married. But as she sighed, I knew it was not about that.

"I'm so happy we can do this. I feel like it’s been a bit. It's like you live a double life.” A churning feeling bothers my stomach with her words, but I laugh it off.

"Says the woman who got engaged, but I had no clue it was happening." My phone buzzes, and I reach for it in my briefcase, juggling through things. I clutch my burner hidden underneath my wallet and look at it. Speak of the devil.

"Is that a flip phone?” Her head peered over to see what I was staring at. “What is it 2008." I held the black burner in my hand and looked back at her.

"It's for work." She chuckled in amusement.

"Your firm is simply stuck in the 2000s. Your boss knows smartphones are a thing, right?" She reaches for the phone, and I pull it back as she sighs, “Come on, I want to pretend I’m in a horror film and that I found the killer's burner!”

"Ha. Ha." I flipped open the phone to see a message from Isaac.

Isaac (12:57 p.m.): ACHERS 7:00 p.m.

Noticing my shift in attitude, she looks curious as I place my phone back into my bag, annoyed. Bella always reads me the best in ways. But instead of ruining the mood, I smiled at her proudly as the champagne came over, and the waitress poured us two glasses. It bubbled to the top, and I watched it spill over, slightly staining the tablecloth. I tilted the glass towards her.

"To you." I cheered.

"To me," She squealed again and tilted the glass back downing it. But I began to sip it, savoring the bubbly flavor.

"I'm so proud of you, Bella.” Then she raised her glass towards me.

"To friendship," she mumbles, and I place my hand on my heart, gasping for dramatic effect as she speaks, acting so touched.

"To friendship," I repeat as our flutes clink. Then, another buzz distracts us, but this time, it’s Arabella’s phone.

"Shoot, it's work." She was a journalist for the Globe. I vividly remember the day she got the job. I flew to Chicago for her Northwestern graduation, and she got the call at dinner the night before. But that was four years ago, and our lives and those of others changed drastically over time.

"Go, go, seriously. I'll see you later." She nodded, standing from the table and looking at me alone. “Please go. I’ll text you to make plans.” She beamed at me and kissed my cheek before rushing off to write about some breaking story. I sipped the rest of my glass and signaled for the check.

The waitress made her way over and handed it to me as I swiftly placed my card in the sleeve, and she collected it. I reached for my phone again and opened it to read the unread messages that haunted me. I was offered another assignment for the evening.

Hope(1:00 p.m.): How much Isaac?

Isaac(1:02 p.m.): I’ll give you 675 thousand. Does that work for you?

Hope(1:02 p.m.): Send me further details about the target, and I’ll go from there.

Isaac(1:04 p.m.): Angel, you have till seven.

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