Page 22 of Keeping It Professional

“Don’t you see how huge this is?”

She cocked her head. “Huge?”

“I’m admitting you were right. Remember I went off on you our very first shift, because you messed up my checklist with your chit-chat?”

Her lip curled. “Yeah.”

“Well, this is me saying you had a point. Your timing was off that day, breaking in on my flow, but youdidmake that driver’s day a little less scary. There’s value in that, so…”

“So…?”

“You’re going to make me say it?”

The ghost of a smile tugged at Sophie’s lips. “Yeah, go on. Say it.”

“Fine. You were right.”

Her smile widened. “And?”

“And?Come on!”

“I was right, so that makes you…?”

I wagged a finger at her. “That doesnotmake me wrong.”

“It doesn’t? You sure?”

“It means we both had a point, and I’m acknowledging yours. And maybe I should’ve done that from the start.”

Sophie chuckled. “I’ll take it.”

On impulse, I stuck out my hand, and she shook it. Her grip was steady, her smile bright and warm. That was her superpower: she was resilient. Whatever life threw at her, she found a way tokeep smiling. I resolved not to let this job harden that out of her. I’d be there for her like a partner should be.

“Thanks for the break,” she said. “Want to get back now?”

We headed back to the bus and on with our shift, and the quiet felt different as we waited for our next call. Sophie wasn’t fidgeting. I wasn’t tense. When she covered a yawn, it didn’t annoy me. We were finding our rhythm, and it was a good one.

This could work, her and me, for all our rough start.

CHAPTER 9

SOPHIE

The dark little sports bar was a relief. It was third on our pub crawl, me and the girls, and the first we could find a place to sit down. The first I could halfway hear myself think.

“I’ll get the first round.”

Jen cupped her ear. “What?” She shook her head like a swimmer fresh from the pool. “My ears are still ringing from that last place.”

“That bachelorette party?” Kate rolled her eyes. “I get it. You’re happy. But you’ve got to scream? That one chick had lungs like an air horn.” She mimed honking one. Jen slapped her hand.

“I need more tequila. Or, no, get us beers. If I don’t slow down, I’ll be under the table.”

I headed up to the bar to order our beers. Tonight, we were celebrating a month on the job. We’d all trained together, and now we were here — on the job, really doing it, and it was great. And for me, tonight was a double celebration: I’d found my own place, and I’d be moving next weekend. Living with Mom wasnice, with the free home-cooked breakfasts, but this felt like a big step. A new stage of life. Maybe it was the tequila, but I couldn’t stop laughing, like it was only now hitting me this was all real.

“Two beers,” I told the bartender. “And, could I get a water?”

“Still or sparkling?”

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