Chapters (44)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Julie Murphy
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
Yes, yes, yes, yes, I nearly scream, but I’m not in the business of being overly eager and I definitely don’t want to sound desperate. “Um, not that I’m aware of.”
On the monitor, a woman walks in and waits at the counter.
“Hang on,” says Lucas. “I’ll be right back.”
Once he’s gone, I quickly grab my phone and shoot off a text to Clem.
911! I need a pep talk.
On the monitor, Lucas stands with his back to the woman as he types her numbers onto her lotto tickets. He looks up to the camera—to me—and rolls his eyes, letting out a short sigh that blows the hair off his forehead.
“Clem, Clem, Clem, come on!” I mumble.
My phone lights up with her face. “Okay,” I say into the phone. “I don’t have time to explain. But I need a pep talk. Quick.”
“Wait—what’s—” she sputters. “Okay. Waylon Russell Brewer. You are a gift to humankind. God or whoever’s in charge made you and mwah! Chef kiss! Perfection! You deserve to have good things and good people. You have more vision and culture in your pinkie than most people have in their whole bodies. Ten years from now—”
“I gotta go,” I say. Lucas has disappeared from the monitor. “But that was good. Your pep talk game is at an all-time high.”
“Wait,” she says. “I love you. My life is better because I share it with you. Twin love for life.”
“I love you too,” I whisper back into the phone and hang up, my whole chest glowing with optimism.
Lucas pushes the stockroom door open and I shove my phone back in my pocket. He wipes his hands down the front of his jeans, and I can see that he’s as nervous as I am.
I inhale sharply, shuddering as I exhale.
“Were you talking to someone?” he asks.
“Nope, just, uh, humming to myself.”
He stands between my knees and presses his palms against my thighs. “Waylon?”
“Lucas?”
“I think I’m ready to . . . tell people.”
I hook my arms around the back of his neck. “Are you sure?” I try to keep my voice perfectly even and measured. This is all his decision, and I don’t want to sway him one way or the other.
He pulls my arms down and takes a step back, his whole face lighting up. “I never thought I’d feel like this.”
“Yeah?” Hope bubbles in my chest and I feel like I might burst. I’d told myself over and over for the last few months that this was only physical. Nothing more, but somewhere along the way, it became more, and now—