Forty-Eight
ESSIE
W hen we arrive back in DC around ten, the familiar bite of pre-snow air surrounds us, sharp and perfect for a drink. We’re the first ones at Smoke and Shadow, so we claim a table and Dalton gets us two tequila sodas.
“You were texting a lot in Salem,” I mention, watching him type on his phone. “And at Cracker Barrel too. Everything okay?”
But before he responds, my phone lights up with a call.
“Take it,” he urges.
I shoot him a puzzled look before I accept the call. A familiar voice answers with, “You’re all anyone can talk about.”
“Claudia,” I say, locking my eyes on Dalton, whose arms are folded across his chest—and he’s not visibly surprised to hear Claudia’s name like he should be. “It sounds like you know Dalton and I aren’t working at Hannington-Hale anymore. If you’re calling about your money, I don’t have updates, unfortunately.”
“Please. I pulled my funds from the bank the moment Hannington called and said he was introducing me to a new VP. I only stuck around because of you and Cavendish.”
“…Can I ask why?”
“On the worst day of my life, you took care of me and you didn’t even know who I was. More importantly, you told me what I needed to hear,” she replies before pausing. “Plus, you said you were fucking your stepbrother, so I had someone look into you and I learned that not only were you fucking your stepbrother, but you were also filming it. Obsessed, by the way. It’s so unbelievably messy.”
“We like a little mess.”
“Same,” Claudia agrees. “And I’m calling because a week ago, I invested thirty million dollars in you. What if I did it again?”
I look at Dalton, and I now have a strong suspicion about why he was texting so much. He’s nodding at me, and I can’t help but smile back. “Well, as a camgirl, I pay a tithe of my earnings to the platform that hosts my account.”
“Bullshit.”
“Exactly. So, with capital, I would build an alternative to the camming platforms we currently have, but with a change: no cut for the host sites. More people could get into sex work and keep the money they earn.”
“You’re saying you would build a site where sex workers keep all their subscriptions and tips.”
“And not only that,” I go on, “but they’d be able to make sex work a career—the way my two best friends and I have—through data and better algorithms to find the right customers and subscribers.”
Claudia is quiet after I finish pitching. I look up at Dalton again and raise my eyebrows.
“ Close the deal ,” he mouths.
“Invest five hundred thousand to help me develop a business case and a minimum viable product. I’ll build the prototype site, and Dalton will handle the business aspects: a plan, a pitch deck, and branding.”
“You want me to invest half a million dollars into sex work,” Claudia clarifies.
“Yes.”
“Absolutely not.”
My heart sinks immediately, and I’m about to apologize—something I’m trying to do less—when Dalton holds up a hand. Wait.
“A million,” Claudia counters, “over three years. You’ll work better if you’re not worried about moving fast. We’ll do an annual review every year to determine if you need another round of funding.”
“I’d consider those terms,” I reply before mouthing at Dalton, “Oh my god.”
“Perfect. Tell Harvard to get a contract together and to propose an equity stake. Make him handle the money. You’re the talent, so you focus on the product.”
“Done.”
“Lovely,” Claudia says. “I have a good feeling about us. I think we can make the kind of mess people need.” She ends the call and I stare at my phone in stunned silence, trying to process what just happened.
“Did she take five hundred?” Dalton asks, canting his head to get in my line of sight.
I exhale slowly. “A million.”
Dalton’s face lights up. “That’s my girl,” he exclaims before getting out of his chair to scoop me into his arms. “Essie, I’m so proud of you.”
“Me? I’m proud of you. You said you were going to make me money, and you did it in, like, eight hours.”
“Could have been faster, but Goodman Winchester kept mad dogging me in Salem,” he says, which makes me burst out laughing. We’re still laughing and hugging when our four best friends arrive at the bar—the same one where we all met two years ago.
“There they are,” Lander calls out, smirking as they approach our table. “We got you a gift, Dalt.”
Dalton releases me and takes the paper Lander passes him. He scans it before he scoffs. “An unemployment form? Fuck off, Lan.” He crumples it and throws it back to Lander, but he’s grinning.
“For the record, I wasn’t in on this unemployment scheme,” Everett replies, throwing his arm over Dalton’s shoulder and patting his other hand on Dalton’s stomach. “All Lander. I thought it was a waste of paper. But hey, are you good?”
“So good,” Dalton replies, looping his arm around Everett.
“What about you?” Cora asks, hugging me.
“Because we’ve been so upset all day,” Valeria chimes in, claiming my other side. “We almost came to get you, but then we tracked your location to Massachusetts.”
“Long day,” I admit. “We were in Salem.”
“Good thing you didn’t follow them, princess,” Everett says to Cora. “You might have been burned at the stake.”
“Go fuck your own face, Ev,” Cora replies while giving him the most adoring look.
Valeria tucks my hair behind my ear. “Are you okay though? Because Lander and I discussed the ways you could sue Weston, and there’s a solid sexual harassment case here—enough to ruin Hannington-Hale.”
Lander gazes at Valeria. “You should hear her talk about legal precedent. It’s so hot .”
I believe it wholeheartedly. I squeeze Valeria’s waist. “You two can put that down as plan B, but I think Hannington-Hale is already ruined.” I look at Dalton. “Should we tell them the big news?”
Dalton nods. “Yeah, guys, Essie and I are,” he begins, looking between our friends, “ getting married .”
I snicker at first until Dalton digs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring with the single largest emerald I’ve ever seen. Seriously. The thing is so big, it looks like an entire monarchy could fall if it ever went missing.
“ What the fuck ,” I mouth while everyone stares with matching expressions of surprise. “Daddy. Dalton.”
“Yes,” he replies, beaming.
“Did you just propose to me in a bar—”
“Yep.”
“—on the day you quit your job—”
“Yep.”
“—in front of all our friends, who look so surprised that I have to conclude nobody was in on this—”
“Yep.”
“—while wearing a t-shirt from Salem that says, ‘Resting Witch Face’ with an arrow pointed toward your head—”
“Yep.”
“—and with a massive ring you just pulled out of your pocket, not even in a box, might I add—”
“Yep,” he replies, smiling bigger.
“—when I’m still a senior in college and we’ve only been officially dating for a week.”
“Thoughts?”
I let out a long sigh. “You are the most chaotic, messy, and unbelievably unhinged man I’ve ever met.”
Dalton nods. “I feel like I’ve worn out ‘yep’ at this point, but… yep . Will you marry me, Essie Romero?”
Smiling back at him, I weave out of Valeria and Cora’s arms and close the space between us. I stand on my toes, pull him down, and kiss him.
“Absolutely,” I reply, feeling so completely beyond fine. “I’d be honored.”