Page 17 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
When Rachel arrived home twenty minutes later, Ella was waiting with her most winsome smile. “I need you. Are you free tonight?”
“I could be persuaded. But work kicked my ass. The holiday decorations that were supposed to arrive last week aren’t going to be here until next week, and that completely fucks the scheduled decorating days and leaves me with more overtime.” She sighed dramatically.
“Aww, Sweetie. You sound like you need a night out.” Ella framed her face with her hands, blinked slowly, and smiled like a guardian angel here to make her wish come true.
“You’re way cuter than the stream of disagreeable customers we dealt with today.” Rachel’s job as assistant manager at Montclair’s Department Store was apparently very stressful. It often took her a good hour to decompress once she arrived home. “Don’t get me started on the sweaters I’m supposed to move. Those things are getting boxier every year, by the way. You’ve been warned.”
“I’ll steer clear.”
She dropped her oversized tote on the kitchen counter with a thud. “So, what’s tonight?”
“Do you remember me talking about Em from the book club?”
“I do. One of the most romantic moments of your life, you said.” She pulled a face and shrugged. “How would I forget that?”
“Well, she’s going to be at this little bar with some of her friends and has invited us over. Very casual, which is how we should approach this.”
“Which bar?”
“McHenry’s.”
“I know it well. They make a blueberry mule that will change your life. Let me slip into something French kiss worthy. You’re buying.”
Ella relaxed into a grin, anticipation bubbling. “Only fair.”
“I want to meet the woman who has you skipping through my kitchen,” Rachel called from the walk to her room.
Tonight was going to be a good one. She could tell by the way everything had simply fallen into place just before she’d fully committed to a mundane night of chocolate-drizzled popcorn and a docuseries on the scary, bald cult leader. Those plans wouldn’t have been awful. This was objectively better. She relaxed into the couch with a grin and then remembered that she would need to change, too. Joggers and a T-shirt with the Sprite logo weren’t going to blend. “Dammit,” she said, leaping up and rushing into her chambers, as she referred to her en suite at Rachel’s house. She hurried to her closet on a mission and sifted through one wrong option after another. What from her wardrobe saidkiss me againwithout screamingI’d trade my morals for one night with you? The line was a mysterious minx.
“I need help!” Ella yelled down the hall to Rachel’s room. “This is a grade A fashion decision, and I’m a C+ student at best.”
“Calm down,” Rachel said, arriving in the doorway, hands up. She was already gorgeous and put together in a low-cut purple sweater, black miniskirt, tights, and booties. Damn that girl. Ella would kill to have that kind of ability, to disappear behind a door for five minutes and come out in an ensemble that was a definite win. “I’m here and you’re going to be just fine,” Rachel said with ease, strolling into the room. Another day at the office for her. She performed a flit-flit gesture, and Ella took a step back from the closet to make way. Rachel assumed her spot and perused the offerings one hanger at a time until she selected a long-sleeved navy top with a scoop neck and paired it with her low-slung jeans. Ella wasn’t even sure why she still owned those things.
“Oh, no. Those jeans are so uncomfortable.”
“You look amazing in them,” Rachel said with dead serious eye contact.
“Sold.”
When they arrived at McHenry’s, Ella was surprised to see that the little bar was not so little after all, and something with a decent beat played over the sound system, making her bop her head. Round wooden tables dotted the center of the floor, and a series of banquettes flanked the perimeter of the large square room.
“Shall we grab a drink or find your girl?” Rachel asked. A second later, she whirled around, putting her back to the room. “Fuck my life. My ex is here.”
Ella widened her eyes, feeling guilty for putting Rachel in this situation. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Do you want to leave?”
“Hell no.” Rachel waved her off. “She doesn’t own this town. And she won’t dictate where I will and will not go with her presence. Where’s your girl?”
She scanned the room and saw Em approaching just over Rachel’s shoulder. “She’s coming over.”
Rachel turned. “So’s Max.”
Confused, Ella attempted to brighten and sent Em a grin. She had her dark hair partially pulled back. “Hey, you.”
“Hi,” Em said. “You made it.”
“Yes. And I want you to meet my best friend. This is Rachel Lenoir.”
The smile dimmed noticeably on Em’s face. She seemed more than confused. At the exact moment, Rachel turned and looked from Em to Ella in confusion. “What is happening here?” she asked in an icy tone, taking a step back.
