Sullivan’s own laugh surprised her.
“What about supporting young professionals?”
“Young professionals stay the fuck off their phone when they have the opportunity to work with one of the best chefs in the country.”
Sullivan hid her smile behind another bite of her sandwich.
“Jackson, you’re slipping. What about your point six percent?”
Kia arched her back, the tower of her hair in its purple scarf lifting regally.
“I saidoneof the best chefs.”
And Sullivan remembered one of the things she had always appreciated about Kia: Kia could tease her, gloat, and talk shit, and it never made Sullivan feel small. Smack talk was something they did together, not something Kia did to her.
Days passed quietly and then it was Sunday morning, the day before their court date. Tomorrow, Nina would clear everything up. The case would be dismissed. Kia and Sullivan wouldn’t be a team anymore. It’d be back to Kia the developer and Sullivan the small-business owner. Even though they’d been friendly to each other, Sullivan would expect Kia to move out. The thought swirled around Kia’s mind as she sat at the kitchen island trying to focus on her fans’ messages.
Deja and her AI social media program responded to comments, driving up engagement. But Kia wanted to write back to as many personal messages as possible. People shared their stories, their memories, their family recipes, and sometimes theirgrief.I watch your reels when I’m in the hospital with my kiddo. We cooked your Snickers potato pie at my gran’s funeral.She couldn’t let AI reply with a genericHope you’re doing well.So she sat at the island in Sullivan’s microgreen-filled kitchen, her laptop and her special coffee in front of her, typing and typing.
Her neck ached and it was barely ten a.m. (Sullivan was still asleep, which was a charming surprise. Kia expected her to be an up-at-six kind of person.) Kia sat back and stretched. A confetti of early sunlight sparkled through the trees and the greens, casting dancing points of light on the blond wood cabinets. Two colorful Turkish-cotton dish towels adorned the oven door. After tomorrow, she might never sit here again.
Kia was wearing tight jeans and a Kia Gourmazing T-shirt, but the kitchen invited fluffy robes and slippers. It felt like a home, like Old Girl and her father’s yacht except immovable and old. Sullivan’s family had owned this house for generations. Nicks in the hardwood could have been made by kids who’d grown up, lived their lives, and passed before Kia’s father had been born. It’d be nice to live in a place like this with friends she saw every day.
“Morning.” A sleepy voice broke Kia out of her reverie. “What are you doing up?”
“It’s after ten.”
“How did that happen?” Sullivan sat down on an island stool across from Kia. She tugged at the cuffs of her pajama top (a subtle tan plaid, like Burberry without the red stripes).
Kia hopped up and turned the water boiler on for another pour-over. Without thinking, she put her hand on Sullivan’s shoulder.
“Don’t wake up too fast. You’ll hurt yourself.”
Sullivan rolled her eyes.
“How long have you been up?”
“Since five.”
“That’s obscene.” Sullivan laid her head on her crossed arms as though preparing to go back to sleep.
Kia placed a cup of coffee beside her. She resisted the urge to ruffle Sullivan’s hair. Sullivan sat up and took a sip.
“So I had an idea,” Sullivan said, sleep clearing from her eyes. “You’re buying the Bois. I guess that’ll all start soon after Nina puts Mega Eats in their place. And you haven’t seen the whole Bois. What do you think about a picnic? There’s a beautiful spot I want to show you.”
The coffee soured in Kia’s stomach. She read the subtext.Tomorrow you’ll get the go-ahead to destroy the Bois. Want to see it before you wreck it?But Kia couldn’t say,Nah, I’d rather not see your ancestral forest before I pave it over. And a stupid part of her ached for this to be real, for Sullivan to invite her on a real date. Sullivan wasn’t, but it’d be exquisite if, after all those years of pining for Sullivan, Sullivan took her hand—I’ve always wanted you, Kia, I was just too scared to tell you—and kissed her.
“No?” Sullivan asked.
Kia felt her face flush. Please don’t let Sullivan read the fangirl lust in her heart.
“No. I mean yes. Of course.”
An hour and a half later, they headed out, Sullivan wearing a backpack. An actualbackpack. The Bois wasn’t backpack big. Why not carry their sandwiches in a sling bag? Or just hand one to Kia to carry on her own? The Bois felt bigger as they walked through the woods. Eventually, they arrived at a flooded field. Short, gnarled trees jutted out of brown water. In the distance, a line of trees looked like they swallowed up children in fairy tales. Kia flipped up her turquoise sunglasses and peered around.
“It’s a wetland,” Sullivan said.
Kia assessed the location for its appeal on U-Spin and its Instagrammability. Instagrammability about eight percent. U-Spin, zero.
