Page 55 of Two to Tango

God, what other nonsense did I do last night?

I text Agostina:Did I do anything stupid last night?

She might not even be awake yet.

Morning, sunshine! Oh, you had a great time.

I groan as I read her text. I can’t be doing these things, I’m not fucking twenty-two. I need to be more responsible. I need to use my time wisely, as I hear my parents’ voices in my head.

Last night was … well, it was fun. And different. A reminder of what I’ve always wanted to be: the carefree one that doesn’t have to carry the weight of everything.

I grumble, rolling over to get out of bed, figuring out how the hell I’m going to make it through the workday, when I remember I left my car at the bar. “Shiiit.”

Right on cue, my phone lights up again with a message from T:Manny and I got your car this morning.

me: You did? How?

t: We did it before yoga.

me: You were downing shots called the Panty Dropper last night but this morning you were awake for yoga?

t: I contain multitudes.

me: Thanks.

t: It wasn’t a big deal. Logan told Gavin to tell us and we just made a plan, whatever. Gotta go cat cow.

I almost want to fight that nobody needed to get my car, that I could have figured it out on my own, but they did and now I don’t have to. Now I have one less thing to worry about.

In bed, with my Jello limbs and my dull aches and my churning stomach, I think about how I have so much paid time off. Would the world really end if I just took it for once?

Before I can think too much about it and lose my nerve, I call Barbara. I take a deep breath, this act making me even more nauseous.

“Barbara Prescott.”

“Hey Barbara,” I clear my throat. “Good morning. I’m so sorry to have to do this, but I am not feeling well. I can’t make it in today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” I push forward. “Must have been something I ate. Not sure.”

“Fine. Can you work on your cases at home then?”

Can I? Probably. But do I want to? I feel my stomach churn some more as we have this conversation. “I’m actually going to take the day.”

Her huff on the other line is loud. “Fine. See you next week.” She hangs up, and the phone call is done. I feel the lingering guilt for a minute, but then it slowly starts to evaporate. Lifting and lifting until I feel free of it. Well, I feel like shit—my own fault—but I have banked sick leave and I’m going to take it. I’m finally going to take it.

As I crawl back into bed, the night comes back in pieces. Little ones, like dancing and loud music, laughing with Logan. Then bigger ones, like the elevator ride up, my purse spilling onto the floor, the feel of Logan’s grip on my arm. How it all still feels so potent.

I pull up my messages and type out another one.

Chapter eighteen

Logan

Julie: Thank you forhaving T get my car.

I read the text, and I can’t help but smile. I know it’s early. I know I’m about to push my luck, but I take the risk and call her.

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