Ugh. He had to go and pull the family card. He knows how I feel about that. Nonetheless, it works. Because the pro side of going into business with one of my best friends might be even stronger than the con side. Why shouldn’t I take this opportunity to put the fate of my business in the hands of someone I trust? Someone I know will always have my back and my best interests in mind. Someone I know will never screw me over or betray me.

But I can’t let him win this too easily. “If—and that’s a big if—I were to agree, you’d be acting as a silent partner. Emphasis on the silent.”

“Not like you’d let me get a word in anyway.”

“And friendship comes first. Always. If shit starts to get weird, either I’m buying you out or I’m finding someone else to buy you out.” Because the thought of anything coming along and busting up our fearsome foursome is unacceptable.

“I can live with that.” He starts tapping away on the iPad, like he’s drawing up the contract as we speak.

“What’s your number?” I hold my breath, even though I know he’s going to be more than fair.

“Two hundred for twenty percent.”

“Fifteen.” I hold out my hand.

“Done.” Nick clasps my hand in his, giving me a firm shake before pulling me in for a hug. He then gives me an actual noogie. “I would’ve taken ten.”

I push him away from me. “I would’ve given you twenty.”

For a minute we just look at each other, grins of disbelief wide on our faces. Then Nick heads out front to talk to Kristen, and I stand in the center of the empty space that’s now mine. My store. My business.

I can’t believe this is my life.

Until the closet in the back of my brain cracks open and that mostly-shoved-away negative talk starts to creep out.

You think you can do this?

There’s no way you can do this.

You could never accomplish something like this.

“Sade, let’s go.” Nick waves me out the front door, closing up the shop and my inner voice behind him.

Kristen promises to have contracts in our email by the end of the day, and as long as nothing weird comes up, keys should be in my hands in two weeks.

We wave goodbye, and I practically skip along the sidewalk. “Nicky, you just signed up to be tied to me for life. How does it feel?”

“I’m sure you want me to make some kind of sarcastic retort about how I’m already in a deep state of regret, but I’m not doing that. I’m pumped. You’re going to rock the shit out of this, and I’m happy to be along for the ride.”