Chapter 35 #2
Phoenix tips the card so we could see. A woman standing alone, light around her, like she was stepping into something instead of waiting for it.
“That’s being seen. Stepping out, not hiding,” Nessa claims.
Phoenix huffs a laugh. “I’m not hiding.”
Mack finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, green mask half-set on her skin. “Do you want us to answer that honestly or …?”
Phoenix points at her. “Stay in your lane.”
“My lane is skincare and truth tonight,” Mack says, completely unbothered.
I press my lips together again, failing this time to hold back a laugh.
Nessa tilts her head. “What do you need then?”
Phoenix’s thumb drags along the edge of the card. Once. Twice. She looks up, a sad smile in place, softer than usual, less polished or forced.
“To be chosen,” she says. “I think.”
Vanessa blinks. “Chosen by who?”
Phoenix shrugs, but her fingers don’t leave the card. “Someone who doesn’t make it complicated.”
Nessa narrows her eyes. “Is this about your parents?” Nessa asks gently.
“It’s not,” Phoenix says quickly. Then, lighter, “You’re reading too much into it, remember this is all open to a crazy amount of interpretation.”
Phi had a complicated relationship with both of her parents growing up.
There was a messy divorce, and neither prioritized her well-being.
But somehow, I don’t think that is what she’s talking about.
There’s something there. Not her old wound, this feels newer, like it would still bruise if you pressed it.
Phoenix drops the card back onto the table like it didn’t say anything important. “Okay. Next.”
“We are circling back to that,” Nessa says.
“No, we’re not,” deadpans Phoenix.
“We absolutely are.”
I snort into my drink. Nessa slides the cards toward me. “Your turn.”
I hesitate for half a second, then reach out, fingers gliding over the spread before I pull one. A figure mid-step. Not fully in. Not fully out.
“Annoying,” I mutter.
“What?” Vanessa leans over.
I turn the card so they can see. “This.”
Phoenix’s mouth curves. “Progress.”
“I hate that word,” I admit, scrunching my nose.
“Why? Because you can’t fully control it?” Nessa asks.
“I can control plenty,” I shoot back.
“Mm.” She takes a sip like she’s already won.
I pick up my glass, the elderflower soft on my tongue.
“Sam stayed last night.” Three sets of eyes snap to me.
Vanessa actually gasps. “Wait. What?”
I shrug, like my heart didn’t just pick up speed. “He wasn’t going to. He was leaving.”
“And?” Nessa asks.
“I asked him to come in.”
Mack’s hands are still on her face. “Pause. Are we mid-face mask hearing this?”
“Yes,” Vanessa says. “Do not move.”
Mack freezes, keeping the contents in place. “Okay. Continue.”
I laugh, a little breathy. “It was … good. Not perfect, familiar maybe.”
I don’t say how strange that felt. How much I missed it. I gloss over the more intimate details of the night, but fill in the pre-made coffee and my theatrical rendition of Mrs. Reynolds feeling up Sam.
“How’s the spreadsheet update?” Phoenix asks.
“Another deposit today, we are now at…” I look at the app. “…$45,662.38.”
“Sam said he wanted us to have the good stuff for tonight. So you all can thank him for this Humboldt Fog goat cheese.”
Nessa lets out a low whistle. “Okay. Effort.”
“It doesn’t fix it,” I say quickly. “It’s not—”
“No one said it does,” Phoenix says.
I exhale, some of the tightness in my chest easing. “It’s just … something.”
I glance down at the card again. The step, the movement. Not all the way there but not stuck either.
“I like something.” Nessa lifts her glass carefully so she doesn’t mess up her nails.
“Something is underrated.”
“To something,” Mack adds, still not moving her face.
“To Becca’s homegrown cocktail era,” Phoenix says.
I roll my eyes but lift my glass anyway. The candlelight catches it, soft and steady. “To something,” I say.
We drink, then I glance up.
Phoenix has her card back in her hand, like she didn’t mean to pick it up again. Her fingers resting on it, quiet.
She’s not looking at us. She’s looking at the card. Before I can ask if she is alright, someone knocks on the door.
Mack looks at me, puzzled. “Are we expecting someone else?”
I stand up confused. At the door, a gangly teenage boy startles at my appearance.
“Ah! Oh my gosh, are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?” He asks, terrified.
“What are you …” Then I remember my green, lumpy face. I laugh. “I’m fine, just trying to stay young. Can I help you?”
“Here, delivery for ‘Girls Night’ it says.”
He hands me a heavenly-smelling bag. Warm through the paper, smelling like cumin and something fried.
When I open it, I see it’s burritos from the local dive place across from his new job site.
Sam must be working there late tonight. I smile at the thoughtfulness, and for the first time, I lean into embracing the progress.
I set the bag down on the table and watch the girls react—Nessa immediately investigating the contents, Mack finally releasing her hold on her face mask, Phoenix putting away her card for the first time all night.
As I close the door, my phone buzzes in my hand.
Unknown Number
I stare at it for a moment, then flip it face down on the console table. Not tonight.