Page 144 of Friends Don't Kiss

Have Grace talk to her. She’ll know what to say

3:25 a.m.

Did Grace say what kind of wedding cake she wants?

3:28 a.m.

Can you ask Grace how many people she’s thinking of having over?

5:05 a.m.

Hey babe I’m sorry. Justin made me do his karaoke thing and I couldn’t find my fucking phone after that. Going to bed now. Hope this doesn’t wake you up. Love you.

fifty-two

Colton

It’scoffeebreaktimeat the garage, and the reception area is packed. Since Kiara’s been gone, croissants baked by Chris turn up on Monday and Wednesday mornings, brought by a rotation of residents. Sometimes—like today—Emma brings a basket of baked goods when she’s due to work on my books. Often, I know Kiara has been working her magic from overseas when it’s her recipes for muffins or cupcakes that appear in my shop, their smell as familiar as a sad country song. “You guys realize there’s a coffee shop in town, right? Easy Monday?” I half joke as I elbow my way to the coffee machine.

“We just came from there, hun,” Ms. Angela answers, her knitting needles clickety-clacking. “Wanted to check on the crocuses I planted last fall, and what you have going in there,” she adds, pointing her chin to the garage.

“Impressive,” Luke comments before taking a huge bite off one of Emma’s cookies. “Damn these are good,” he mumbles.

I raise my mug of coffee to the assembly and head back into the bay, Emma following me so we can go over a few pending items for the garage. “None of my business, but… the logo redesign? Was that really necessary?” she asks.

“Yup.”

“And-and-and… new sign, new t-shirts, mugs… That’s adding up. Just want to—”

“It’s abso-fucking-lutely necessary,” I bark. Over my dead body is Kiara coming back to something that makes her feel insecure.

“Colton. It wasn’t.” She crosses her arms. “I’m worried about you.”

There’s nothing to be worried about.

“Since Kiara’s been in Paris—”

“Lemme know what you think,” I interrupt her, pointing to the third bay. She falls in step behind me as I walk her to the project I’m currently working on.

Everyone seems worried about me, but I’m fine.

I’m just fine.

Keeping busy until Kiara returns.

Ifshe returns.

I’m not a fool. I know the appeal of the world will be hard to resist for Kiara. And she deserves a huge, beautiful life. Celebrity. Anything she wants.

Me, I can offer her something. So I’m working on that while she’s gone. And if she returns, she’ll have… something I hope she likes.

“You haven’t told her anything?” Emma asks, surprised, as we round Luke’s Mustang in the second bay. Since the exhaust scare, he brings it in constantly to have us check for shit. Makes Merritt’s day every time.

My gut clenches. At the beginning, Kiara and I would speak several times a week. Now, Sunday’s the only day I’m certain to hear her voice. She says she’s tired, and I can tell she is. She says the workload is brutal, and I believe that too. So much so that she hasn’t really visited Paris.

But she says she’s learning a lot, and she loves it. And that too, I believe.

There’s nothing I can do. It’s the way it was going to be. The way it should be.

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