Chapter 37 Javonte
I read Lily’s text six times before I respond.
Me: I’ll come to you.
Her reply comes a minute later.
Lily: My place is fine.
I grab my keys and leave before I can talk myself into sending something else. I drive to her place in silence. I don’t call Zea. I don’t rehearse some long speech, even though my brain keeps trying to hand me one. I don’t need a speech. I need to listen.
When I get to Lily’s house, she opens the door before I knock. She’s in leggings and an oversized T-shirt, her hair pulled up, her face bare. She looks tired, but not closed off. That gives me something to breathe around.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
She steps back to let me in, and for a second, we just stand there in her entryway like we forgot how to move around each other.
“You want something to drink?” she asks.
“No, I’m good.” I pause. “Actually, yes. Water. Please.”
Her mouth twitches. “Okay.”
I follow her into the kitchen, holding back every urge to reach for her. She gets a bottle of water from the fridge and hands it to me. Our fingers brush, and I want to pull her close. I don’t. I stay where I am and let her lean back against the counter.
“I turned down the promotion today,” she says.
That is not what I expected her to say first. “How do you feel?”
“Terrified. Relieved. A little nauseous.”
“That sounds about right.”
She lets out a quiet laugh. “It does.”
“I’m proud of you.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Thank you.”
I twist the cap off the water but don’t drink. “I don’t want to mess this conversation up by changing the subject.”
“Then don’t.”
I laugh, but I stay quiet.
She looks down, then back at me. “The studio was beautiful. And thoughtful. I could see how much you noticed. The storage. The light. The back area for the water. If I was looking for studio space, I probably would’ve picked it too.”
“But it still hurt,” I say.
She nods.
“I know. I didn’t ask you. I saw what was stressing you out, and I built a whole solution without stopping to see if it was the one you wanted.”
Something in her face softens.
“I thought I was giving you space,” I say. “But I filled the whole thing with decisions before you ever walked in.”
“That’s exactly what it felt like.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.”
“I already talked to the leasing office. If I need to break the lease, I can. There’s a fee, but that’s my problem. Not yours.”
Her eyebrows lift. “You already asked?”
“Yesterday.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t want to make it your responsibility to comfort me because I finally figured out what I should’ve figured out before.”
She looks at me for a long second, then walks into the living room. I follow, stopping near the couch while she picks up a notebook from the coffee table.
“I made a list of the things I actually need help with.”
“Okay.”
She sits, and I sit in the chair across from her because sitting beside her feels like asking for closeness she may not want yet.
“I need help with emails. Booking requests. Scheduling. Social media. Inventory. Setup. Food.”
“Food?”
“I forget to eat before events.”
“Lily.”
“Don’t do that.”
I smooth my face out. “I’m listening.”
“Good.” She looks back down at the notebook.
“I need someone who can help keep the business moving when I’m at work or when I’m creating.
Someone who can post the content I already have sitting in my phone, answer basic questions, track sign-ups, pack supplies, remind me when I’m low on brushes and table covers.
I need actual help, not a whole building I have to figure out. ”
“So, an assistant.”
She looks surprised. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You don’t want to tell me how the studio should still be on the table?”
“I want to,” I admit.
Her eyebrows lift.
“But I’m not going to. Part of me still wants to explain how good the place could be for you. The better part of me knows that’s not what you asked for.”
She holds my gaze, then nods.
“What kind of person would be good at all that?” I ask.
“Someone organized. Quick. Good with people, but not too soft, because people ask ridiculous questions. Someone who understands social media. Someone who can take direction but also catch stuff I miss. Someone who likes the business enough to care.”
I shake my head and laugh.
“What?” she asks.
“I know somebody.”
Her eyes narrow. “Who?”
“Don’t say no immediately.”
“That’s a terrible opening.”
“I know.”
“Who is it?”
“Zea.”
Lily goes still for half a second. “Zea?”
“She’s organized when she wants to be. She’s on every app known to man. She has opinions about everything. She already likes you and Lit with Lily. She wants a job, and she needs something productive to do besides bullying me full-time.”
Lily blinks, then laughs. “She would give herself a title, wouldn’t she?”
“Assistant Director of Vibes.”
Lily points at me. “No, that’s actually good.”
“Do you want me to call her?”
“Yes, but just to ask if she’s interested in an interview.”
I pull out my phone and call Zea on speaker. She answers on the third ring.
“What did you do now?”
I close my eyes. “Why is that how you answer my calls?”
“Because you usually did something.”
Lily presses her lips together.
“You’re on speaker,” I tell her.
“Oh.” Her whole voice changes. “Hey, Lily!”
“Hey, Zea.”
“Are you okay? Did he do something dumb? Because I told him not to sign anything.”
Lily’s eyes fly to mine. I look at the ceiling.
“Zea,” I groan.
“What? I was a witness for common sense.”
Lily sits back and laughs, and the sound loosens something in my chest.
“That’s not why we called,” I say.
Lily takes over. “Javonte thought you might be interested in a part-time job helping with Lit with Lily. Emails, social media, supplies, setup, things like that. We’d need to talk to your mom, and school would come first, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested in an interview.”
The line goes quiet. For once, Zea has nothing to say.
Then she screams.
I pull the phone away from my ear.
“Yes!” she yells. “Yes, yes, yes. I’m interested. I already have ideas. First of all, your TikTok needs more behind-the-scenes content. People love setup videos.”
Lily covers her mouth, laughing.
“And can my title be Creative Operations Manager?” Zea asks.
“No,” Lily and I say at the same time.
Zea sighs. “Lit with Lily Assistant?”
“That works,” Lily says.
“Can I add something after assistant?”
“We’ll discuss it.”
“That means yes later.”
“It means we’ll discuss it,” Lily says, but she’s smiling.
They talk for another minute before Lily promises to set up a real conversation. When we hang up, she looks lighter than she has since the studio. Not fixed. Not all the way okay. But lighter.
I set my phone down. “That was the first useful thing I’ve done all week.”
“It was useful.”
“I’m sorry it took me messing up to ask the right question.”
She runs her fingers over the edge of her notebook. “Me too.”
That hurts, but I don’t argue with it.
“I don’t want to lose you over this,” I say.
Her expression shifts.
“I don’t either.”
I take that in slowly. It doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t erase what I did. But it gives me enough to breathe.
“So what happens with the studio?” she asks.
“I’ll handle it. If I can break the lease, I’ll break it. If I can sublease it, I’ll sublease it. If there’s a cost, that’s on me. You don’t have to make one decision about that place unless you want to.”
“And if I decide later that I do want to see it again?”
“Then we’ll go see it.”
Her eyes stay on mine. “Okay.”
That one word does more for me than I want to admit. I stand before I ask this moment for too much.
“I’m going to go.”
“Thank you for coming over.”
“Thank you for letting me.”
She follows me to the door. When I turn back, she’s close enough for me to touch, but I don’t reach for her.
She reaches for my hand.
For a second, we stand there in the quiet. Then she pulls me closer and hugs me. I close my arms around her slowly. She rests her face against my chest, and I hold her with my eyes closed.
It isn’t everything.
But it’s enough for tonight.