Page 14 of Dare to Hold
Instead, I let myself live in this moment with my best friends on our annual trip, before it ends, and we go back to real life.
Harper’s leaning halfway across the table, fork in hand,trying to steal a bite of Olivia’s dessert. Olivia smacks her hand away without even looking.
“Get your own, thief,” she says, eyes still glued to her phone. “This was the last bread pudding on the menu, and I earned it.”
Harper pouts. “You earned it? You’ve been glued to your client emails all day.”
“I’ve worked too hard to go full-time and not check in,” Olivia says, finally putting her phone down. “Next week I’ll have no supervision. I’m allowed to panic.”
Harper grins. “You’ll be amazing. And don’t worry I’ll send you emotional support texts when my class of tiny gremlins launches full chaos at me.”
“I still think you deserve combat pay,” Olivia says, raising her glass.
“She’s a hero,” I agree. “Trying to convince five-year-olds to sit still and not eat glue? Saint-level patience.”
Harper laughs. “You’re both dramatic. But I will take outfit help for the first day. I need to look calm and collected, even when a kid throws up on my shoes.”
“I’ve got you,” Olivia says, smirking. “Something that says, ‘warm and approachable’ but also ‘don’t test me.’”
“You’ve nailed that vibe,” I add.
“And you,” Harper says, turning to me. “Freelance Ivy. How’s it feel knowing you are about to be your own boss?”
I lift a shoulder, smiling. “Terrifying. But also, kind of amazing.”
“I still can’t believe you quit,” Olivia says, eyes softening. “That was a big move.”
“It was time,” I say, exhaling. “I got tired of designing for people who didn’t care. Now I get to pick my projects and avoid meetings that should’ve been emails. Honestly? Feels like freedom.”
By the time we’re walking along Bourbon Street, exhaustion starts creeping in. The neon lights blur together, and the pulse of music from every bar vibrates through my body.
“We aren’t in our early twenties anymore, are we?” Harper groans.
“Nope,” Olivia yawns dramatically. “It’s like, the day after I turned twenty-five, my body just gave up on staying awake past ten o’clock.”
“Honestly, same,” I add. “I only had one drink and now I need a nap and a neck massage.”
We all laugh, a little too loud.
Harper gestures toward a bar with a live jazz band playing in the corner. “Let’s sit for a bit. I need to rest before I drop dead in the middle of the street.”
We all agree, weaving our way through the crowd until we find an open table. I sigh as I sink into the chair, letting the hum of conversation and the smooth sound of the saxophone wash over me.
“I could live here,” Olivia says, sipping a daiquiri. “Beignets for breakfast, daiquiris for dinner, jazz on every corner.”
“You’d be broke in a week,” Harper says.
“Details.” Olivia waves her off. “I’d start a TikTok series. Something like Single Girl in New Orleans. It’d go viral.”
I laugh. “You’d have local sponsorships by day two.”
And for a moment, just a moment, I’ve completely forgotten about what happened earlier today.
Until a deep, smooth voice from behind me sends a shockwave through my spine.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
My heart stops.
