“Not on Fridays. Besides, the summer term ended yesterday and I’m off for the next month before fall classes start.”

“Okay, happy hour it is,” she says with a grin. “Miller Room?”

“Yes, please.”

Catching sight of someone over her shoulder, she turns. “Tory!” she calls with a wave.

Footsteps approach, and a moment later our coworker Tory Hageman appears. Her platinum pixie cut catches the light and I practically squint at its radiance.

Whereas Christina is a year younger than me, Tory is four years older. But unlike Christina and me, Tory actually has her life together in ways that make ours seem hopelessly childish. She’s married, for one. And second, she lives in a house. Not an apartment or a condo, but an actual house with grass and a fence and designated guest towels and everything.

“Hey, ladies,” Tory says with a grin, hugging a stack of folders to her chest. “What are you two plotting over here?”

“Happy hour at Miller Room after work. You in?” asks Christina.

“Yes, perfect. Count me in. I have news to tell you too. Big news.” Her smile widens to the point that I think her round cheeks are going to crack.

“Spill,” I say.

She checks her watch. “Can’t. I’m late for a meeting, got to run. Oh, and Henley—it looks like that director of digital marketing position is finally happening. I’ll give you the details later.” She crosses her fingers as she backs away, then turns and bustles toward the conference rooms.

My breath catches in my throat and I use every ounce of willpower not to paste a million-watt smile on my face. Tory is the director of financial planning and analysis, so her office has to approve the budget for any new positions. She undoubtedly has all the tea.

Christina nods after Tory. “It’s about time we had a digital director.”

I slide a look to Christina. It’s no secret that I’m gunning for the new role, but she’s been with Seaquest longer than I have… what if she expects the promotion? We haven’t actually talked about it.

Dropping her chin, she puckers her lips. “Oh, come on, Hen. You really think I’m some nineties sitcom version of the friend who gets all catty over her bestie’s success? We both know you deserve that promotion. You work harder than anyone else in this entire company. It’s kind of pathetic, actually.” Winking, she hops off the desk and sidesteps our divider to return to her cube.

My chest fills with warmth. Christina’s not just a work friend anymore, she’s a real friend. And it’s not like I have an inexhaustible supply of those. I smile to myself as I pull my phone out of my bag. Tory’s whole “big news” thing has reminded me of something. I open Walsh’s texts from last night and fire back a reply.