Page 2 of The Best Worst Mistake
I’m on the verge of giving Grant a victory peck when the cork shoots out and we each give a little cheer. A decent volcano of fizz erupts but settles quickly enough, thank God. I’m not about to make the trek back to fetch another if this one spills any more.
Si hands the bottle to me without taking any for himself.
“You put the work in so you get the first sip,” he tells me. “But there’s a catch.”
I take the bottle from him and roll my eyes. “Isn’t there always a catch with you?”
Grant laughs in agreement. “Always.”
But Silas isn’t deterred. “This will be our last time together for a while, so—”
“A while? Just how long do you plan to be in Europe?” Grant interrupts. He’s been trying to get an answer out of him for a few weeks. The two have been attached at the hip since long before I met them in our freshman year. The stretch of time starting tomorrow might be the longest they’ve ever been apart.
“Not sure. Six months? A year?” Si puts a hand on his hip. “You’re welcome to join me, you know.”
Grant’s face falls. He and I are driving back to Boston to get our careers started as soon as we leave. Grant’s taken a small amount of seed money from his parents to fund thenonprofit he’s hell-bent on starting, and my parents don’t have the means to support a single month of me not working. They’re supportive, but nowhere near as wealthy as Grant’s and Si’s families, so my new job in HR starts on Monday.
“What’s the catch?” I ask, hoping whatever game Silas wants to play will keep our spirits high.
“The catch is, you have to say your favorite memory that involves all three of us, and then follow it up with where you see yourself in five yearsbeforetaking a drink.”
I groan but secretly enjoy the idea. I love when Silas gets a little sappy since it happens so rarely.
Grant nods, and I know he’s game because he’s always up for anything. It’s one of the many things I love about him.
“Do I have to go first?” I ask, searching my mind for the perfect memory out of the dozens that surface.
“No, I’ll go,” Grant offers, reaching toward my lap for the bottle. “I already know mine.”
I hand him the champagne while Silas and I go silent, waiting for Grant to woo us with his words. Grant holds the bottle out in front of him like he’s about to give a toast.
Silas subtly winks at me, grinning. We both adore Grant’s inner sap, never the one to shy away from a nostalgic moment like this.
“My favorite memory has to be meeting you,” he says, tipping the neck of the bottle in my direction. I smile, remembering the day I met both of them. Si shifts his gaze out toward the water. “And in five years, I see myself getting engaged,” Grant adds. My cheeks flush hot above my collar. I already know that’s our plan, but my stomach still does a little flip to hear him say it. “I’ll also be running my nonprofit if I can get it off the ground.”
“No worries on that, bro.” Silas turns to assure him. “It’ll be a success.”
“It’ll bemorethan a success by then,” I add. I squeeze Grant’s arm before tucking my hand back inside my sweater sleeve, trying not to shiver since the sun is well on its way to disappearing now.
Silas must notice because he kneels to grab some of the dry firewood we brought with us from the porch and begins arranging it inside the metal fire pit at our feet.
Grant takes a careful pull from the bottle, keeping the fizzy liquid from spilling over the top. Then he holds it out to Silas.
“Jules next,” Si directs, then lights one of the long matches before holding it at the base of the wood pyramid he’s just built. The kindling catches and a tiny flame appears inside the splintered pile. “Give it another minute and we’ll all be backing up from this thing.”
“I hope so,” I mumble, willing the flame to grow.
I take the bottle from Grant. It’s still cold from the fridge and a slight shiver races up my spine, but I’m not sure if it’s from the early evening air or the moment we’re here sharing.
“Okay.” I sigh, glancing between them. My eyes suddenly disobey the little pep talk I gave them earlier and I blink a few times, trying not to let any more emotion spring to the surface right now. “Ugh, why’d you have to pick this type of game, Si?”
I laugh through a frown, blinking a few more times in an effort to clear my nostalgia all the way out.
He grins before grabbing a stick to tend the flame. “Because I love to keep you guessing, Jules.”
“Always,” I assure him.
I force the rest of the emotional upheaval away, while using my toe to smush a rock deeper into the sand, thinking of what to say.
