Honey Girl(52)

Grace turns to him. Her head is pounding; her throat is still dry. Somewhere, in the cavernous hollow cave that is her chest, drunk, angry words sit embedded in a perfect target. “You weren’t all wrong,” she admits. “I didn’t just spend eleven years sacrificing my own things. I also sacrificed so much time with you all. Being there for you. Drunk words equal sober thoughts, right?”

“Okay, first,” he says, “that sounds like a Pinterest quote. Never say that to me again. Second—” He takes a deep breath. “It’s in the big brother handbook to call you out on your shit. But your shit isn’t just hard, it’s a bunch of systemic bullshit. I know that. I was wrong to suggest otherwise. So, thanks for calling me out, too. Maybe little sisters know what they’re talking about, sometimes.”

Grace smiles, even though it hurts. The sun is too bright and the city is too loud and everything is too much. Everything has been too much for far too long.

She sniffles, and Raj freezes up. His hands hover somewhere around her shoulders, like he has no idea what to do. She wipes her eyes as she laughs at the absurdity. “I’m telling Meera you said that, too.”

They look at each other, hesitating like they never have before.

“Just hug it out!” Yuki yells from the window. “Who knew earth signs were so goddamn emotionally incompetent?”

“How do you know I’m an earth sign?” Raj asks.

“Broke into your phone while you were in the bathroom and added you on that astrology app,” she says, disappearing inside. “Your passcode is whack!”

He looks back at Grace. “You really picked one.”

She looks up at the window. “Yeah,” she sighs, unable to keep the affection from her face. “I really like her.”

“I like her, too,” he says. “She’s good.” He opens his mouth and takes a moment before speaking. “I really am sorry.”

Grace holds her arms out. He leans in, and she inhales his familiar scent. “I’m sorry,” she breathes out. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry I never asked. I would have—I don’t know what I would have done. But I could have tried.”

He laughs quietly. “I know you would, dummy. I’m sorry I never told you. I’m sorry I got mad that you’re trying to figure out your own shit, and I can’t figure out mine.”

“Not your fault,” she says firmly. “I love you.”

“Love you, Space Girl.” He pulls away. A gray Honda pulls up to the curb. “My chariot awaits. Next time you talk to me, I may be in the market for a new employee in Boston. Right up your alley.”

“I’m there,” she says.

“You ready?” the driver asks.

Raj nods, taking a deep breath. “Wish me luck?”

“Good luck, I guess. I’m conflicted about it.”

“Well, as long as you’re conflicted,” he says, climbing into the car. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Impossible,” she whispers, and the car zooms off, into the busy streets of New York.

Later, while Clueless plays on Yuki’s laptop, and Grace nurses her second cup of hojicha, her phone vibrates.

She groans. Raj already texted that he arrived in Boston safe and sound. Ximena sent her photos of the therapy dogs in the hospital today, golden retrievers and German shepherds and little Yorkies with bows in their hair. Agnes sent a string of skull emojis, but she also had group therapy tonight, so it checks out.

Meera, the display says.

“Shit.”

Yuki makes a questioning noise, half asleep from half a bottle of wine. “Me or you?”

“Me,” Grace answers, rolling off the bed. She snatches the phone up and says, “Give me a second,” before she presses it to her chest. “Gotta take this. I’ll be right back.”

Yuki nods, rolling into the warm spot Grace has left. “Want me to pause?”

Grace shakes her head. “I’ve seen this movie like a hundred times. Please.”

She tiptoes out the room. Dhorian is in the living room, case studies and paperwork laid out in front of him on the coffee table. He’s in comfy clothes, sweats and a long-sleeved shirt that says Black by Popular Demand. He gives Grace a little salute when he hears the bedroom door shut.

“Is that Porter?” Sani calls. “Tell her and Yuki we’re having a Crash Bandicoot tournament once you’re done trying to save the world.”

She waves her phone, and Dhorian nods. “She’s busy,” he says. “Must be important, because who the fuck talks on the phone anymore?”

Grace shuts herself into the bathroom. She gets in the tub and pulls the curtain for extra privacy.

“Hello?” Meera sighs impatiently.

“Hi, Meera.”

“Finally,” she says. “It took you forever to say hello. What if it was an emergency? What if I was on that game show where you have to phone a friend? I would have lost.”

“Are you talking about Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Is that what you’re talking about? Why would you be on that?”

“Have you ever heard of hypotheticals?” she asks. “Like, hypothetically, my brother is driving me crazy with his weird guilt over whatever went down with you two while he was in New York. So, spill. What did he do?”