Tiffany’s voice crackled through the tiny flip phone speakers, followed by her own shriek. “Shut up! Your license?!”

“My license,” I confirmed proudly, spinning in a full circle in the middle of the sidewalk, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. “They gave it to me. Like, legally. I have it in my hand right now,” I said, breathless, holding up the laminated rectangle as if she could see it through the line. “My picture’s hideous and my signature looks like I sneezed while writing, but yes. I passed, Tiff. No more buses. No more begging Scarlett for rides.”

There was a beat of silence—then a scream so high-pitched and dramatic I had to yank the phone away from my ear. “Bitch, you better drive your ass down here and visit me immediately, do you hear me?” she demanded, over the sound of what I could only assume was Jamal in the background yelling, “Ask her if she knows how to parallel park⁠—”

“I will,” I laughed. “I swear. As soon as I get the car situation figured out. And I need Aunt Mary to come back first.”

“You better,” Tiffany said. “I want to see your face, not just hear your voice on the phone. No more excuses, Beverly Price. None of them are valid anymore.”

I sighed, even though a smile tugged at my lips. “I hear you. No more excuses.”

“Jamal and I miss you like crazy⁠—”

“I miss your face so bad it’s disgusting!” Jamal chimed in, and I laughed as a loud smack echoed through the phone, followed by Tiffany’s outraged yell. “Give me back my phone, you menace!”

“Damn, Tiff, that hurt! I was just expressing my emotions,” Jamal protested, his voice muffled. “Violence isn’t the answer⁠—”

“It is when you snatch my phone out of my hand mid-sentence,” she snapped. “Boy, if you don’t—” There was a scuffle, some rustling, and then her voice came back, breathless but victorious. “Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted⁠—”

“Abused,” Jamal muttered in the background.

“—we miss you,” Tiffany finished pointedly, ignoring him.

“I miss you guys too,” I murmured, heart swelling. “As soon as Aunt Mary gets back, I’ll make a trip. I swear.”

“Text me as soon as you have the dates, okay, Bev?” she said, softer this time.

“Promise,” I said. “Love you.”

“Love you more,” she replied, and then hung up with one last celebratory shriek.

Still smiling, I headed into the café, tucking the phone in my back pocket and tying my apron behind me with a little more spring in my step. Aiden was already at the counter, perched lazily on a stool with a newspaper spread out in front of him like he was eighty-five years old instead of twenty. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and his ridiculous green scarf was draped over one shoulder, practically begging for attention. It wasn’t even cold.