Patrick, the second member of our group, rolls his eyes. “For once, I’d like to get through a night without hearing about your sex life. You talk about it so frequently, it’s like we’re there with you. And trust me, that’s not something any of us want.”

“At least you haven’t walked in on them doing it,” Jack, another buddy, grumbles. “I’m scarred for life.”

Neil snorts. “My ass is divine, Lancaster. Besides, it’s not my fault someone has the hots for their best friend and refuses to do anything about it. Being bitter isn’t a cute look, Walker.”

Patrick throws up both of his middle fingers. “Contrary to popular belief and your small-ass brain, men and women can have a platonic relationship and not sleep with each other. Lola and I have never done anything physical, and I’m not arguing about this with you again.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t think about it.”

“We aren’t here to talk about me.” Patrick’s life-long friendship with Lola is always a frequent topic of debate amongst our group, and I know he hates when she gets brought up. “This is Henry’s 911 Bro Call.”

Our 911 Bro Calls, while carrying a pathetic name, are sacred. When enacted, the five of us do our best to drop everything and meet up immediately, knowing an important decision or announcement is about to take place. Patrick, Jack, Noah, and Neil have all initiated one in the last three years. This is my first time, and I’m sweating bullets.

“Sorry I’m late,” Noah says, sliding into the empty chair at the head of the table, the last to arrive. “What did I miss?”

“I have an announcement to make,” I start, taking a deep breath.

“You’re pregnant.”

“You’re dying.”

“You got someone pregnant.”

“You killed someone,” Jack says flatly.

“Wait. Shit. What do lawyers do when they need a lawyer?”

“I think they’d get their own lawyer. Right?” Patrick doesn’t sound too convinced.

“Are you all finished?” I huff, anxious to share. They all nod in unison, and I break out into a grin. “I’m being considered for partner at my firm.”

The guys are silent for two seconds before they erupt in boisterous cheers, loud enough for the surrounding patrons to crane their necks, trying to find the source of the outburst.

“Holy shit!”

“Congratulations, H!”

“That’s well deserved, man!”

“So proud of you!”

It’s five minutes of their hands clasping my shoulder, ruffling my hair, and hooting excitedly. When they finally settle down, I begin speaking again.

“Wallace told us today and the decision is going to come in the next couple of months. I’m already stressed out. I bet we both are. There’s going to be interviews, an outside board, reviews. It’s a lot to process.”