Page 9 of Because of You
“Be at the office by eight tomorrow morning!” Julie yells after them.
Molly turns around and yells back, “Don’t expect me before nine! I can’t be both hungover and creative!”
“I told you not to have the third margarita! And you don’t have to be creative! No one needs creativity to unpack a box.”
“Girl, I always need to be creative.”
“Molly, I love you like a sister, and Jules, you are my actual sister and I adore you, but this is not a sorority house. I have actual customers who are not paying to see your particular brand of drama, so very kindly please shut it down in my place of business.” Ben has on his serious voice, but I see him snicker when Molly turns back around and sticks her tongue out at Julie before Emma drags her out of the bar.
Jo turns to Julie. “If I didn’t know you guys so well, I would think you hate each other.”
Julie lets out a snort. “Sometimes I do hate her. But in, like, a sisterly, ‘I hate you and you drive me batshit crazy, but I would also die for you and fight anyone who crosses you’ kind of way.”
“Kind of like I feel about you guys,” I say to my sisters with a smirk.
“Hey, I never drive you batshit crazy.” Hannah sounds extraordinarily insulted.
“No way,” I snark. “Absolutely never. You have never driven me crazy, and I have never had anything but fierce love for you for every single minute you have been alive.”
Hannah gives an amused,yeah right, look. “Okay, JoJo, time to go.” She stands up and comes around to hug me. She holds me a little tighter than usual. And when she says, “I am so proud of you, honey. You guys did good,” The tears I have held at bay for hours rise up in my throat again. I will them away with all the force I can muster.
Soon, I can fall apart. Not quite yet.
“Thanks, Han,” I whisper. My baby sister might be overwhelming sometimes, but she is kind and happy down to her core. A true sunshine girl. She lets me go and then Jo takes her turn before they leave to catch their own cars home.
“I’m heading out too,” says Julie. “I’m going to my parents. I stored some stuff in the pool house I want to bring in tomorrow, so I’ll just sleep there and then have my dad drop me off in the morning. Will you be okay to grab a car?”
“For sure. I’m going to run to the bathroom and go home. I’ll see you tomorrow, but not until the afternoon. I’m at Callahan and then in court tomorrow morning to finalize Maya’s adoption.”
Callahan is a small local Pittsburgh law firm specializing in family law and adoption. I connected with them during a family law clinic I did in my third year of law school, where I assisted one of the attorneys in an adoption proceeding. I loved the clinicand have done some pro bono work with the firm on and off over the years since graduating law school. Maya is a seven-year-old girl who the firm’s clients, Eric and Jen Casey, have been fostering for the last four years, and they are formally adopting her tomorrow morning. I have helped them on the long and difficult road to get to this point. There is no way I wouldn’t be in that courtroom in the morning to see them officially declared the family they have been since they first laid eyes on Maya.
Eric and Jen are just a year older than I am, and I have become friendly with them in the two years since we first met. I have hung out with them a bunch of times with Julie, Emma, and Molly, and Eric works out at the same gym as the guys whenever they all get the chance. Everyone has met Maya, and they have all seen firsthand what a beautiful family the three of them make. Other than, like, bleeding out on a gurney somewhere, this is probably the only thing that Julie would let me delay box unpacking for.
As predicted, Julie’s gaze softens, and she smiles. “I know how much this means to you, Hal. I’m so happy for them, and I’m glad you get to be there to see it. Celebrate with them a little afterward, and I’ll see you when you get in.” Julie kisses my cheek and I see her stop by the bar for a quick conversation with Ben before she disappears out the door. I head back to the bathroom and as I’m washing my hands my phone dings.
Ben
Last one standing, huh? Feel like dessert?
I consider this. Part of me wants to go home, crawl under the covers, and wallow. I have been holding myself together all day, and I am so drained of energy I feel like I could just float away. But the memory of Ben’s eyes on me earlier has me reconsidering. They were filled with steadiness andunderstanding, and right now I am so vulnerable that I want to drown in all that comfort. And also eat dessert. Decision made, I text him back.
Me
I am, in fact, desperate for dessert. Is it ok if I crash in your spare bedroom and Uber home in the morning before work?
I adore Ben’s loft. He has big, squishy furniture, fluffy blankets, and an excellent guest room bed. He always stocks our favorite snacks and drinks because we tend to hang out at his apartment after brunch in the area or a particularly late night at the bar. Julie and I each also keep some necessities in the spare room and guest bath, since we both occasionally sleep there when we are too tired to go all the way home.
After getting stuck there one too many times without underwear or a toothbrush, we finally commandeered the dresser as our own. And since Ben is Ben, not only did he not care, but he asked if he should buy a bigger dresser so we could have more room.
Ben
Always, Hal. Go upstairs and I’ll meet you up there when I’m finished here. Shouldn’t be long. Jeremy can cover the rest of the night.
Heading back out into the main bar area, I search around for Ben. He is still behind the bar, handing some beers across to a group of women, a couple of whom are openly ogling him. I grew up with Ben and have known him all my life, so I spend a not insignificant amount of time observing women checking him out. He might be one of my best friends, but I’m not blind to how he looks. He is wearing a dark green Henley t-shirt andjeans with a bar rag tucked in the back pocket. His blond hair is a little shorter on the sides and perfectly tousled in a way I know is entirely unintentional. He has a wide smile and sparkling blue eyes, and an air about him that is both smoking hot and incredibly approachable. It is an irresistible combination to most women.
One of the women reaches out and touches his forearm, and I feel a swift tug of something low in my stomach, so foreign and surprising that it knocks me back a step. Territorial maybe? Protective? I can’t pinpoint it, so my tired brain stops trying. I need to lay down, stat.
As if Ben can sense me standing there, he looks up and his eyes meet mine. He smiles and gestures towards the door in our usual “head on up” signal. Weird feeling forgotten and awash in relief at the thought of some time with a friend who is not also my soon-to-be partner in a business I may or may not want to actually take part in, I head upstairs to burrow into the couch and wait for Ben.
