The Speed of Light: A Novel(52)

Hayley’s eyes widen. “Oh God, no. It’s not them, it’s her. Like, is she actually genuine, or does she just get a rush out of helping them? Because she always seems to be looking for her next cause, you know?” She shrugs. “Like I said, she’s a fixer.”

Something about the word makes the ice cream threaten to make a reappearance, and I scramble to my feet. “I, uh . . . forgot I have to email a reporter back about an interview next week.” I stride away before any of them can question me.

It’s all too much—people getting let go at the worst times of their lives because they’ve used up their sick leave. People getting let go for no reason at all, with no notice. Dating someone who is sick or injured in order to feel good about themselves.

Inside, my fingers fumble to unlock my office door, and I end up dropping the keys onto the faded brown carpeting. “Dammit.”

“I got it.” Nikki swoops in and saves the day, as best friends do. She unlocks the door and lets me go in first; then she follows me inside and turns to me, arms crossed. We stare at each other for a long time, until finally she speaks. “Fuck them.”

It’s so unexpected, and I’m a bit punch drunk from sugar and sadness, so a laugh blurts out.

“I’m serious, Mone.” She’s smiling, though, as she reaches over to hand me the napkin she’s brought in from outside. “What the hell do they know about a plan for layoffs?”

I wipe at my eyes and nod.

She nods back. “Repeat after me: I, Simone Archer, am going to go home and drink a big ol’ glass of wine, finish packing, and then I’m going to go on a super-fun vacation with my big hot boyfriend and have lots of sex and alcohol.”

I’m shaking with laughter now, but her Nikki look is fierce. “Say it.”

“I mean, that was a lot of words.”

“Say it, Simone.”

“I’m going to do all those things.”

“And I’m not going to worry about what a bunch of jerks say.”

I smile. “And I am not going to worry about what a bunch of jerks say.”

“Okay, then.”

Behind me, a throat clears. I whip around, and Connor is in the doorway. “Oh God,” I say, “you didn’t hear any of that, right?”

A smile twitches at his lips. “No, of course not . . . but I mean, if I did, I would say that Nikki gives excellent advice.”

Heat creeps into my face and across my neck, but Nikki bursts out laughing. Connor winks and walks over, puts his arm around me, and kisses the top of my head. “So,” he says to Nikki, who is finally reining in her laughter, “when are we gonna do a poker night again? I want to beat Claudia this time.”

Nikki snorts. “Um, yeah, good luck with that, buddy. Nobody ever beats her.”

“Damn, I know, I’m a big talker.” He sighs, then turns to face me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything—just wanted to stop by and remind you I’ll be over bright and early Sunday morning to pick you up, okay?”

I nod, and he plants a soft kiss on my lips, then turns back to Nikki. “Seriously, though, game night—let’s make it happen. Even if I lose all my money again.” They high-five and I beam. There’s something about your boyfriend and best friend actually liking each other—being able to double-date—that is so glorious.

He walks out and Nikki turns to me. “You feeling better?”

I answer with an attack hug, hanging on tight, not wanting to let her go.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

July 4, five months before

There’s something beautiful about the open prairie stretching before you, all waving fields of gold and rolling hills of green capped by a wispy-clouded blue sky, full of promise. Or maybe it’s because Connor is next to me. Whenever he’s by my side, the sun shines brighter and I feel strong.

I sip the mocha Connor brought me bright and early this Fourth of July morning, basking in the blue sky and sunshine streaming through the passenger window. In a surge of good spirits, I pull out my phone to call my mom and wish her a happy Independence Day. Her voice is filled with surprise—and exhaustion.

“You and Dad up late partying last night?” I joke.

She chuckles, but it’s forced. “Oh, your grandma was up again.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

There’s a pause. “I thought we’d told you. She gets up at night sometimes. Wanders around the house.” Mom sighs. “It’s not so bad this time of year, but in the winter it’s scary . . . you know, if she were to get outside.”

Oh God. My hand goes to my mouth involuntarily. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor sneaking a glance at me, and I meet his eyes and force a smile. “I’m sorry, Mom. Have you . . . have you guys thought any more about finding somewhere permanent for Grandma?” I saw the brochures on the table over Memorial Day—now it makes sense.

“Now, Mone, you don’t need to be worried about this, okay? You’ve got enough on your plate already.” Mom’s voice is stern. “That’s for me and Dad to talk about.”

A surge of frustration hits, and yet I’m the one who’s been sulking, measuring everyone else’s troubles against my own. “Well, I’m here if you need me, Mom. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Such an empty phrase, and it leaves me empty, too.