Chapter 34
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
EZRA
Not to make it weird but I have one of your voicemails saved so I never forget the way you sound when you laugh or cuss me out…that too.
—Ezra
H arper pulled on jeans and a sweater, still grumbling about Aaron’s text, and kissed me on the cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like we hadn’t just detonated our entire friendship the night before.
I didn’t like it, not the night before part but the her leaving part.
I knew it needed to be done, that Aaron was owed answers sooner rather than later and that the sooner she got the content uploaded and said ‘hey, look I’m giving the one that got away a chance’, that things will be totally fine.
Honestly, until then, it still felt like we were lying to everyone and on top of that, it just felt like we were dragging things along for views which I also wasn’t comfortable with.
Her following had almost doubled since starting and I had to wonder where she wanted to go from here, another hurdle we had to cross.
She was starting to make enough money that it was more than a fun side hustle but again, baby steps.
It wasn’t my place to tell her what to do, not when I’d Cinderella’d my own content creating career but burned the slipper rather than leaving it for someone to find.
“I’ll be back,” she muttered whizzing through the kitchen, hair half-tamed, keys jangling. “Try not to start another bar fight while I’m gone.”
I scoffed.
“Can’t make promises I can’t keep.” I smiled until the door closed behind her and then I let my smile fall and allowed myself to give into the tiny ache in my chest where my heart was doing it’s best not to twist all over itself. Shit, this sucked.
I barely had a second to pace before the front door opened again.
“Oh, thank God,” I said, half-laughing, half-relieved. “You forgot your?—”
Not Harper.
Grandma Blue.
In the flesh. Purse swinging, lipstick on point, eyes sharper than any pencil I’ve ever had, a stare down during elementary school sharpening wars. Dark times, really dark times. Always good to have a reminder in human form though.
“What the—how—” I stammered pointing from the door to her and back again. What did she do Spiderman her way in here? Was she on the ceiling only to drop in front of the door right when Harper left?
She breezed past me, dropped her bag on the counter like she still owned the place—which, technically, she did—and squinted.
She leaned in, her nose wrinkled as she took in a deep inhale and squinted. “You smell like a deviant of the sexual manner. As in, you’ve been participating in activities of the bedroom sort.”
Was it possible to choke guiltily? “Excuse me?”
“Don’t excuse yourself,” she snapped, tossing me a look that could peel paint. “You’ve finally got the girl in your bed and you think I’m going to clap for you like some giddy TikTok fan? Please. I’ve been waiting a decade for you idiots to figure it out.”
“Then maybe—thank you?” I tried, rubbing a hand over my jaw.
She narrowed her eyes, softer this time. “Don’t thank me. Don’t screw it up.”
The weight of it landed heavier than any threat.
I cleared my throat, trying to sound like a man in control and not a kid who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or, you know…Harper.
“Why are you here exactly?” I asked, eyeing her like she might sprout fangs. “And why did you think you needed something this huge?—”
Whack.
A dish towel cracked across my arm.
“Ow! That hurts!”
Her eyes gleamed, wicked. “Do you even realize how many sicknesses I’ve faked? How many brunches I’ve spiked your drink?”
I froze. “That was you?”
She waved me off like I was the slowest student in remedial math.
“The real winner should’ve been the ammonium.
But I got the dosage wrong, and let me tell you—nothing’s sexy about a man camping out in the powder room.
No matter how attractive the throne of lies, Ezra, a throne of lies is still a throne of lies. ”
I blinked at her. “You drugged me.”
She sniffed. “Don’t be dramatic. It was just enough to keep you home and near Harper. A nudge. A push. You think either of you was going to figure this out on your own? Please. I’m old, not patient.”
“So,” I asked, cautious. “What? Do I just…sit here and wait?”
She blinked, then let out the most offended scoff I’d ever heard.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you also need a detailed, color- coded map?
I swear, you lead a horse to water and the horse just drowns itself, doesn’t it?
Or it stands there whining—‘oh no, what if the water’s too hot, too cold, too deep, I’m allergic. ’ Damn Gen Z.”
I cleared my throat. “I think I’m a super-young millennial, math-wise.”
Her glare could’ve peeled wallpaper.
I held up my hands. “Anyway. I mean…Aaron’s obviously not going to be happy when she picks me, but I guess everything’s over with now. So I just wait.”
By the weight of her silence, it was clearly not the right answer.
“Be a man of action. Confess.”
My entire body went rigid. “I slept with her. Pretty sure she overheard my confession over the phone with my idiot brother. What more do you want—a rib?”
She rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t fall over.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We already tried the rib, and look how that turned out.
If anything, women should’ve given men a spare rib so you idiots could rub extras together and maybe generate more brain cells.
But alas—here we are.” She threw up her hands like I was hopeless.
Then she leaned in, eyes sharp, voice low.
“The world thinks you dated. You didn’t.
The world thinks you were the one who got away—you weren’t.
You were the one who stood silently, confidently, at her side.
Do you know how rare that is? How many relationships never even start because people are too afraid of what it might look like if it’s different?
You can inspire. You can come clean. You can help her win more than just your heart.
Show her she’s a hero—not for giving you another chance, but for being smart enough to look in your direction in the first place.
And thank her, dumb-dumb, for choosing you. ”
She patted me on the head like I was five. “You’ll figure it out. Now, I’m off to Italy.”
I did a double take. “Wait—right now?”
Grandma Blue winked. “Take care of the place for me, will you? I won’t be back for a few months. Oh—and don’t get married until I’m home. I have big plans. But do have as much sex as possible. I want a great-grandchild before I croak. Bye now!”
She left the same way she came: out the door like nothing on earth could stop her. A flurry of perfume, confusion, and inconvenient inspiration.
I just stood there, jaw slack, staring at the door she’d slammed behind her.
Then, slowly, I reached for my phone. My thumb hovered over Harper’s name—then drifted away. I had her logins. I had access to everything. But more importantly… I had access to my own channel.
With a sigh that felt more like a battle cry, I dragged my laptop onto the kitchen table, flipped it open, and whispered, “here goes nothing.”