Chapter 2
Beckie arrived in a gust of perfume and laughter, filling the room with noise immediately—the kind that demanded attention and left none behind for listening.
She came in already mid-sentence, already performing, a bottle of wine swinging loosely from one hand—uncorked, because of course it was.
She wore something tight and deceptively casual, the kind of outfit that insisted it hadn’t been planned while clearly being planned within an inch of its life.
Her glossy blond hair fell just past her shoulders, the ends curling in every direction.
Erica watched her with the familiar mix of fondness and fatigue.
They’d been friends since college, back when Beckie’s energy had felt contagious instead of exhausting.
Somewhere along the way, Erica had grown up, and Beckie had stayed exactly the same.
The friendship persisted not because it still fit, but because it always had.
“Birthday girl!” Beckie hugged her hard enough to press the air from her lungs, then leaned in to whisper, “Thirty looks so good on you.”
“I’m assuming that’s the wine talking,” Erica said, laughing as she stepped back.
Beckie grinned. “The elevator took forever, and I was thirsty.”
Her gaze slid past Erica, landing on Chad. She smiled slower this time, deliberate. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, yourself.” He smiled easily, like this was all part of a routine they both knew.
Erica reached for the wine. “Let me put this in a glass for you.”
“It’s more fun straight out of the bottle.” Beckie raised her brows twice, daring her to object.
“And far less civilized,” Erica said.
Zach arrived next, standing just inside the doorway as though he were waiting for permission to enter. He was tall, lean, and dark-haired, the sort of handsome that came with warmth rather than intimidation. He held a small, neatly wrapped box, the paper smoothed flat, corners pressed sharp.
“Happy birthday,” he said.
“Thank you.” Her smile softened. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Zach felt safe to Erica in a way few people did.
Maybe it was the way he waited—never interrupting or assuming.
They’d met years ago when she’d hired him last minute to fix a lighting disaster, clipboard clutched to her chest, already apologizing for asking too much.
Zach had solved the problem without making it a thing, and they’d worked together ever since.
Sometimes she wondered if he remembered that night the way she did.
“Oh—this is for you,” he said, handing her the gift like it was no big deal.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
She invited him in, and he shrugged off his jacket, hanging it neatly in the coat closet.
Liv slipped in behind him, already scanning the space without meaning to—the table, the lighting, the distance between chairs.
Her dark hair was pulled back into a practical twist. She didn’t like attention, preferring others to hold it.
She hugged Erica and murmured, “It’s beautiful,” before drifting toward the kitchen, hands already reaching for nothing in particular.
Her boyfriend, Derek, followed with a dessert Erica hadn’t asked for. His tie was loosened and his sleeves were already rolled, like he’d decided the night didn’t require formality.
“Backup,” he said.
Erica sighed. “I don’t need backup.”
“That’s what I told Liv.”
Liv shot him a look. “It’s safer to have options.”
Erica smiled, though something pinched at the word safer.
They settled into the dining room, chairs scraping, glasses clinking, everyone finding their place. Erica moved among them, pouring wine, offering water, adjusting napkins, and double-checking that everyone had what they needed. She didn’t think about it. She just did it.
Chad took the chair at the head of the table, settling into it like it belonged to him.
Beckie slid in beside him without hesitation.
Liv and Derek sat across from her, knees touching under the table.
At the opposite end, Erica took her seat, and Zach waited until she sat before pulling out his chair.
Steam curled from the food as it was passed around, the table glowing under candlelight.
“This looks incredible,” Zach said.
“And smells amazing,” Beckie added.
Erica felt a brief, unwelcome flush of pride.
Chad cleared his throat and stood, glass raised. Erica stayed seated, watching him with a small smile she’d taught herself to wear.
“To Erica,” he said, “who somehow manages to make everything look effortless, even when it’s not.”
Beckie nodded. Zach stared into his glass. Liv smiled tightly.
“She’s driven,” Chad continued. “Organized. Brilliant. And she makes everything better just by touching it.” He smirked. “Even me. Which is impressive, considering how wonderful I already am.”
Laughter rippled unevenly around the table.
“To Erica,” Chad said.
“To Erica,” they echoed.
They drank, and conversation picked up in cautious waves, a mix of work stories, shared memories, and jokes that landed a beat too late. Chad’s phone vibrated against the table. He flipped it facedown without looking. Erica saw it, noted it, and let it go.
“So,” Liv said. “Thirty. How does it feel?”
Erica smiled. “Like a relief.”
No one asked what she meant because they already knew.
Forks scraped across plates and wine gurgled into glasses as Erica refilled them, making sure no one’s was ever empty. She allowed herself to relax in fractions as her friends ate and drank. This was what she had wanted. Something small, controlled, and safe.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Erica frowned, looking around the table, noting six place settings, six glasses, and six people.
“Is someone missing?” Derek asked.
“No,” Erica said. “Everyone’s here.”
Zach glanced toward the door. “Maybe it’s a delivery?”
“At eight?” Liv asked.
Zach tilted his head. “Or maybe it’s a birthday present.”
Erica looked at Beckie. “Don’t tell me you hired a stripper.”
Beckie raised both hands, grinning. “Nope. I’ve got nothing to do with whatever’s on the other side of that door.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The candles flickered, one burning lower than the rest.
“I’ll get it,” Erica said, already standing.
Her chest tightened for reasons she refused to examine. This hadn’t been part of the plan.