Page 4 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
“I will,” she said, realizing she’d likely never afford this Carter. “I’m just sure of it.”
“Fuck it,” Rachel said, selecting a bottle of wine from the six-bottle rack on the kitchen counter. “I’m opening the good stuff. My best friend is here and deserves to be spoiled after her dusty drive.”
“That’s true. I’ve battled dust and won.”
Rachel poured with a flourish, raising the bottle at the final moment to show off a little. Ella resisted the urge to applaud, reminding herself that she’d be doing that a lot if she got started. Instead, she turned to her friend. “It’s really good to see you.”
They smiled at each other for a moment. Finally, Rachel covered Ella’s hand, her expression one of quiet sincerity. “This was a good move, E. There’s so much going on here. The tech scene is bustling and hiring all the time. You want to work for a politician? We have thousands just up the interstate looking for all kinds of digital artists. Want a girlfriend? I can definitely place you right in the middle of the whole scene.”
“Let’s slow our roll on that last part. At least until I figure my life out.”
Rachel touched her oval-shaped wineglass to Ella’s. “You and me both. After Max and all her bullshit, I don’t know that I want back in that ring ever again.”
“Cheers to that.” She tipped the glass to her lips and let the bold, smooth flavors wash over her taste buds. Raspberries, earthiness, and a hint of spice. “This is good stuff.”
“Told ya.” Rachel led the way to the couch and sat back in total lounge mode, glass and wrist dangling. That’s when Ella realized that her outfit was a near match for the drapes. She’d designed herself right into her own color scheme, which was so quintessential Rachel Lenoir that she almost had to laugh. Ella could never master that kind of coordination for … anything. Call it the artist in her, but she flew by the seat of her pants, a happily creative mess winging it most of the time.
“So, how have you been since the nightmare that was Max?” Ella asked. “Still going through it? I haven’t laid eyes on you since you were in Tulsa a couple of weeks before the breakup.”
“Sad, pissed off, and sad again. I’m sure you can identify.” Ella’s own breakup occurred a good six months before Rachel’s, but she remembered every awful stage. “She got most of the friends when we split. At least the good ones. Fuck her.”
“Fuck her. We hate her all the more.” Ella did, too. Because that was how friendship worked. You showed up for each other, and loyalty was everything. Max, after playing the role of a loving girlfriend, had up and ghosted Rachel after their four-month relationship. Though Ella had never met Max in person, it was clear from the stories Rachel had passed along that she was a shady, self-involved player. No one deserved that.
“She’s probably on woman number five by now,” Rachel said with a disgusted shake of her head. Her green eyes narrowed. “I feel like four was a brief interlude, probably motivated by boredom. That’s how she is. Maybe even just to taunt me.” She sighed, her gaze falling to the fabric of the couch as if the thought just stole the wind from her sails.
“So, you’ve seen her out with these women?” Ella asked.
“Glimpses on Insta. Plus, I hear things and can fill in the blanks.”
Ella couldn’t imagine dealing with that kind of pointed animosity. If Britney had thrown jabs at her post-breakup, the healing would have been exponentially harder. “I’m so sorry she targets you like that, Rach. I’m just relieved she showed her true colors before you were any further in.”
“I’m glad you didn’t marry Britney, too.” Rachel sipped her wine. “We’re like the breakup twins, and, honestly, that helps.”
“Now, if only you’d lose your job, we could be theunemployedbreakup twins.” Without prompting, they both raised their glasses high in the air.
“To life and the way it continues to throw us into oncoming traffic,” Rachel said with mock joy.
“I heard that.”
“You hungry?”
“Maybe.” Ella looked behind her. “Do you have Oatmeal Hoopties?”
Rachel smiled, pride radiating. “It’s like I knew you were coming or something.”
Ella exhaled and sat up a little taller. This was why they were close. No one knew her like Rachel did. And in that moment, Ella knew without a doubt that she was right where she was supposed to be. “Hey,” she said to her louder, cooler friend, someone she could probably learn a lot from.
“What?” Rachel asked as she rounded the couch to the kitchen for a bowl of sugary cereal that would be Ella’s second helping today.
She shrugged. “I love you. You know that?”
Rachel placed her palms flat on the perfectly white speckled granite. “I love you, too, E.” A pause. “And thank fucking God you’re finally here!” she yelled and hit the countertop. She had an aversion to excessive sentimentality, and that was okay. “All right. Mushy part of the evening is over. Let’s eat, veg, and then sleep late, because it’s the wonderful weekend.”
“You and me,” Ella said, moving two fingers from her eyes to Rachel’s. “Like this.”
“Always, you nerd.” She handed Ella her bowl.
“Love you.”
