Page 104 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

“Okay, good. You can start at my office tomorrow. I’m in Colorado for two nights. Veronica can find you a desk there.”

“And I found you a desk here,” Avril says.

“Here?” we all chorus, looking around at the bare floorboards and listening to the sound of shouts and drilling coming from above our heads.

“You need to be onsite,” Avril says to Poppy.

“I can come to site. I don’t need to work here all the time. The dust alone will drive me crazy.”

“Okay, but I picked us out an office to share.”

Poppy groans. “I didn’t agree to share a room with you. We haven’t done that since we were kids.”

“Are we all going up or not?” I snap. I can only listen to Poppy and Avril bicker for so long.

Sophia’s hand shifts in mine and she finds my pulse point on my wrist. This simple movement calms me. Her touch makes me aware of her—makes me remember what’s important. “I’m going to miss you,” she whispers as we step into the elevator.

I tune out Avril and Poppy and start to think about the journey tomorrow. None of our friend group knows I’m headed out to Colorado. It’s not a secret exactly, we’re just not telling anyone.

“I’m going to miss you too. You could come with me.”

“I have a job,” Sophia says, her tone teasing.

“A job you don’t like.”

“Right. But until I figure out what I’m going to do, it’s a job I’m keeping.”

“If you quit, you’d have time to think about what you want to do.”

“Maybe you’re right. Or maybe I’d just follow you to Colorado and wherever else you’re traveling to, and then I’ll start getting up later and going to the gym at noon, and then five years would have passed by.”

“You could find us somewhere to live.”

“Oh, I did that already,” she says as we exit the elevator. “Your kiss scrambled my brain and I forgot to tell you.”

“You found a place?” We’ve looked at a couple of places in the last month or so.

“Well, only on Zillow, because surfing Zillow’s my side hustle now. It’s on the next street over from ours, just a block away.”

“Sounds good. Can we go have a look at it?” Sophia’s gone back and forth on moving out of the brownstone now that she’s settled in. But even though it was she who first suggested a move, it’s me who’s pushing for it now. I want a fresh start. Marrying Sophia was the beginning of so much, and I want to honor that by living somewhere I bought because I want to live there with my wife—not because it was convenient and big enough for my sisters to move in if the need arose.

“Sure—oh wow, progress,” she says as she looks around. I follow her gaze.

“Walls,” I say.

“And electrical and plumbing and HVAC. We’re completely back on schedule.”

I’m impressed. They’ve achieved a lot this week.

We step off the corridor and into one of the newly constructed rooms. The drywall hasn’t had a plaster veneer yet, and the floors are covered, so it’s difficult to get a sense of proportion. “Is this a bedroom?”

“Yes,” Avril says. “It’s a standard bedroom. Most of them will be this size. Bathroom is in there. Or will be.” She lifts her chin at a doorway to the right of the entry.

“It doesn’t seem especially big,” I say.

“A typical New York hotel room is three hundred square feet. This will be four-ten. It’s very generous. We’re going to be able to bring in rollaway beds for families.”

“It’s great,” Sophia says. “You’re going to be opening the doors in no time.”

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