Page 36 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
She smiled up at Rachel, and everything in her inflated. She had to remember something hugely important. She wasn’t alone or overlooked, not in this household. Gratitude stuck with her for the rest of the night, and she let her hang-ups with her family, her preoccupation with Maxine Wyler, and her own self-esteem issues float away in favor of a little much-needed friend time. It was salve to a wound.
“Hey, Rach.” She squeezed her friend’s ankle across the couch. “You’ve saved me in so many ways this year. I’m not sure how to go about repaying you.”
Rachel relaxed into a warm grin. She dropped her cheek against the couch cushion and met Ella’s gaze with purpose. “Nothing to repay me for at all. This is what friends do for each other.”
Rachel was absolutely right. Friendship wasn’t just text messages and inside jokes—it was about showing up. And Ella knew, without a doubt, she’d do the same for Rachel in a heartbeat. “Hey. I love you.”
Rachel beamed. “I love you back.”
NINE
Ride or Die (But Mostly Ride)
Aslight shift in the vibrancy of the purple. Ella bit her lip and surveyed her work.Better. A couple of subtle lines to add detail to the woman’s chestnut hair as it swished to the side, mid-swing.Yes. That most certainly worked. And finally, a pull back on the opacity of the ice rink in the background. There. Rightthere.
Ella sat back with a happy sigh, more than pleased with the cover illustration. Her shoulder blades ached, and her head held nothing but fuzz. Didn’t matter. Her heart was ready to burst and run down the street in victory. She had just put the finishing touches on her very first commissioned cover,No Pucks Given. Who knew hockey romance was so hugely popular? She certainly hadn’t, but had fallen down a rabbit hole and quickly educated herself. She’d been hugely happy slash shocked to accept the job from an indie romance author whose cover artist had left her high and dry on the cusp of her release date. The author at hand, Holly Sprockets (which couldn’t have been her real name), had fallen in love with the rough draft version depicting a woman placing a hockey stick across a uniformed player’s chest while she leaned into his space, determination inher eyes. Had she drawn the guy extra hot just for Holly? Most definitely. But she liked that she’d given the power on the cover to the female character.
“Headed your way, Sprockets,” she murmured as she attached the file and uploaded it to their shared drive for Holly’s approval, two hours before she’d promised to have it delivered. “Tell all your hockey writing friends.” Once Holly signed off and had a chance to post a cover reveal, Ella would toss it up on her new Instagram page, which she’d noticed was growing steadily already. If she pulled in enough of these commissions, she might be able to sneak by without another job. Freelancing for herself would be the best thing that had ever happened to her. The cherry on top of the sundae was how much she loved the work, reveling in the creation process and celebrating her contribution to telling a brand-new story. She gave her shoulders a celebratory shimmy-shake just as her phone leapt to life and joined her.Ariana. “Dance, Ari. Dance,” she said, continuing their duet with a bit of hip action.
She slid onto the call with a grin. “I just finished my first commissioned book cover, and you and I just danced.”
“Because you’re a badass. We should dance more.” And pause. “How are you so quick to start taking over the romance world? You literally just walked in the door.”
“Well, I’m not new to design. It was simply a matter of understanding how the work differs on a cover. Binging the books sure helped.” She fell back onto her bed like a teenager and regretted it when her body screamed back like a woman in her thirties. “And I’m getting old.”
“You’re a toddler at best. So, here’s the thing I’m calling about, you badass creative child, you.”
Ella got serious. She sat up and rested her elbows on her knees. “Tell me.”
“Remember how we pitched the very gay bar Sally Sue’s Western Safari?”
“That name puzzles me at night.”
“By design, I’m sure. I think you’ll love it there. Everyone does once you’re over the warring themes.”
“That’s a valid pitch.” She’d been looking forward to checking it out.
“Well, find your boots. It’s on. Can you be ready in an hour?”
“Tonight? It’s happening now?”
“You just finished the cover, so the answer must be yes.”
“Really, though? Must it?”
“I think Stevie could use a night out,” she said in a less playful tone. This was down-to-business Ari. She was learning the difference. “She’s guilt-ridden about the divorce and ruining Dominic’s life. And now she’s just staring at these shattered pieces of the past. I think she needs a taste of what’s ahead to help her through.”
“Okay, okay. So, we show her a good time.” Ella’s eyes darted around the room. She had three shirts on the bed, two on the floor, and one on the lampshade—beautiful, organized chaos. “Let me just get my bearings here. Fashion is important, but a struggle.”
“Listen to me, you’re gonna nail it. Want to ride with Max and me to the bar? She drives her black luxury car while I check my nails and secretly pretend like she’s my chauffeur. It’s the best kind of game.”
Ella went still, lampshade-shirt frozen in her grip for examination. She didn’t exactly want to drive thirty minutes on her own in the dark to a place she’d never been, but hopping in hot Max’s Range Rover might not be the best idea, given her pledge to Rachel about cordiality. But hold the phone. With Ariana as a chaperone, they would have no choice but to keep their distance. That felt pretty cordial. Plus, she could let Arianacarry the conversation. “You know what? I’d love a ride. Sign me up.”
“Done. Pick you up at nine.”
Her brain screamed. “Nine? Did you just say nine? I’m in my thirties.”
“Ella, you’re going to be just fine.”
