“Jo, will you just…” He makes a panicked sound.

Josie turns, mask slipping to the floor at Adam’s expression: mouth gaping with terror, entire face red with clear embarrassment. Her laughter comes out as a coo, and she reaches for a hug. “I kid, I kid!”

Adam pushes at her outstretched arms, craning to get away. “Just—just give me a minute. I’m experiencing a heart attack.”

“Heart celebration,” Josie corrects, pulling him close. “You’re thrilled that I’m the same old Josie. Pennsylvania ain’t changed shit.” 

Adam mumbles something about her new home exacerbating her Josie-ness, but hugs her back. “The show starts at nine? We should probably hurry up and grab dinner. It’s seven-thirty.”

“Shit, okay. Gimme like two and a half minutes to change. I still smell like airplane. ”

Josie is technically running on fumes after an all-day cross-country trip that started before dawn and included two layovers. But stepping off the plane and onto California soil shot a dose of adrenaline straight through her. She missed this place, but didn’t realize exactly how much until she caught San Francisco’s skyline flying in, and found Adam waiting at the baggage carousel. 

The game plan is to stay at a hotel with Adam for the next two nights, then move to a considerably less expensive motel in Oakland for another couple nights before catching a flight back east. 

For now, she’s fully focused on the lead-up to the elopement, and making sure Adam is as chill as possible. 

***

Adam was adamant, within the first twenty-four hour haze of his engagement, that he didn’t want a bachelor party. 

“I don’t have … those kinds of friends,” he told Josie over FaceTime, pulling books from his shelves and placing them in boxes. “I’d honestly rather stay in.”

Josie was standing in the lobby of a historic building in the Harrisburg suburbs, taking a break from the art nonprofit’s community show she was working. “Is Ari doing one?”

The line between Adam’s eyebrows deepened. “Yes, but that’s because he enjoys that kind of thing. He’s the perfect person to have a bachelor party for.”

“Okay, so don’t consider it a bachelor party for you. What does the perfect Josie-included pre-marriage celebration look like for Adam Hughes?”

As it turned out, it looked fairly simple: IHOP in Daly City—the one Jon worked at until recently, followed by a show at the Throne Room. 

Adam and Josie. Pennsylvania ain’t changed shit. 

***

It’s after two in the morning when they return to the hotel, both of them floating breezily back to the ground post-rush of live music. 

An older man gets off the elevator on floor eleven, and it’s just them. Adam leans against the back wall of the elevator, wearing a wistful smile. 

“I never would’ve guessed, back when I first moved out here, that you would become my best friend. You were so scary to me,” he says. “In that Intro to Journalism class, remember?”

“The whole campus was terrifying those first few weeks. You were just scared of my hair.” She pushes curls off her shoulder.

“Anyone looks at you, sees your hair, and they know everything there is to know about you.”

“Feral?” Josie asks, with a nudge of her foot against his. 

Adam shakes his head as the doors part for floor eighteen. “More a whole vibe than a single word.”

“Feral’s a vibe.” She keeps her voice low as Adam leads the way to their room. There’s a moment of reflection—Josie remembering tailing Adam across campus time after time, the set of his shoulders much softer than they are now. Maternalistic as it sounds, Adam is all grown up, and getting married. 

“What did you think of Ari when you first saw him?” she asks. 

Adam uses a hotel key to unlock their room. The sash still sits atop the bed. Josie dons it and lays back on the comforter. 

Adam looks thoughtful as he pulls off his shoes. “I’ll be honest, I don’t think there was actual thought. I was completely floored by the sight of him.”

“You were always going to be the love-at-first-sight kind of person.”

Adam lies down next to her. “And you? What kind of person are you when it comes to love?”

Josie frowns and looks up at the ceiling. “A bit deep considering the hour, eh?” But she’s thinking about it, what her answer might be. Dating has never been a particularly high priority for her, and since moving to Harrisburg, she’s put energy toward socializing, not romance. But falling in love, she imagines, will happen like it does with her friendships: “The kind who sinks her teeth in,” she tells Adam.

His returning smile is slow and sleepy. “Sounds about right.”

He’s asleep within five, and Josie turns inward, sorting through the tangle of emotions—joy over being back; bittersweetness over Adam’s marriage. Upcoming interactions are a stressor, too. Silas. Ramona. 

When she first boarded the plane that morning, she honestly didn’t know closure was something she might want upon arrival in San Francisco. But here she is, old demons yawning awake after a six-month hibernation. 

Thank god she’s no coward, is Josie’s last thought before she, too, falls asleep. 

***

Those demons reappear a little sooner than she would’ve preferred. 

She sleeps until half-past nine before Adam’s ringing phone shoots her into a sitting position, heart pounding, mouth sour with sleep. 

A picture of Ari and Adam lights up the screen, and Josie reaches for it on the bedside table. Adam’s still out cold, so she does the honors.

“Ari.” Her tone is casual, bored even. The two who care about Adam the most, yet never quite needing to bridge their own gap.

There’s the briefest pause. “Hey, Josie. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know.” She lies back down and stretches her legs. She’s still wearing the sash. “Sharing a bed with a random redhead I met yesterday. Says he’s getting married tomorrow, but didn’t seem too bothered shacking up with me for a couple nights.”

“Ha, ha. Can I talk to Adam?”

“Stand by.”

She pokes Adam awake and heads for the bathroom to shower. By the time she emerges, wrapped in a towel, Adam is, unsurprisingly, reading. 

“Hi,” he says, blinking up at her. “Um, I guess there are a couple more reception tasks I need to give my opinion on? Ari said it’ll only take an hour. I’m so sorry, but do you mind if I steal off for a bit? Ramona’s helping out a ton and I don’t want to have her stress over me.”

Josie makes a face, her back to Adam, as she digs through her suitcase for clothes. “No worries. I’ll come, too.”

“Oh, um.” 

Jeans and a t-shirt draped over her shoulder, Josie turns. His reluctance is clearly written across his face. “I swear I won’t be mean, or make it awkward, or pull a knife, or threaten to expose the latest Taylor family drama.” She smiles beatifically. “It’s better for me to see everyone now instead of during the ceremony when you and Ari are suffocating us with your happiness and we’re desperate for an outlet.”

A small smile creeps across Adam’s face. “How could I forget your incredible debate skills? Promise you’ll play nice?”

“Nicest person you know.” She tosses the sash, which she’d left at the foot of the bed, at him. “Now, make yourself presentable.”

***

They arrive bearing gifts—a half dozen donuts from Josie’s favorite shop. Ari gives Josie a sort of grimace when he opens the door and she holds the box out. 

“I’m okay, thanks.” But he gives her a quick hug before greeting Adam more intimately. 

He then beckons them inside. “We’re supposed to give our approval on gift bags and the table settings. Just say yes to everything because there’s no way Ramona will change her mind from what she already has planned.”

Josie snorts as she tails Ari and Adam to the kitchen, where she sets the donuts on the counter, then continues to the back patio. Under a pair of outdoor patio heaters perches the devil herself and a guy Josie doesn’t recognize. 

Ramona wears a purpley-red sweater over a similarly colored flowy skirt, hair pulled into a long braid that drips over her left shoulder. In an instant, her eyes lift to Ari, then snap to Josie. Her face gives nothing away, but she says definitively: “No.” 

Josie supplies a wide grin and a wiggle of her fingers. “Hiiiii, roomie.”

Next to her, Adam fidgets. 

“Si’s in his room,” Ari says pointedly. To which Josie rolls her eyes but leaves in peace. 

She spent enough time with Adam-and-Ari-the-couple to have been to the bungalow Ari shares with Silas, and remembers the route to the bedrooms. Sure enough, Silas’s door is cracked and there’s the sound of low music. 

Josie allows herself a three-second hesitation. When the dust settled last year, Silas was very clearly on the Ramona side of the line. He and Josie never quite rekindled their friendship, reduced to occasional head nods when their paths crossed. 

She’s missed him. More so upon moving to a city where she had zero ties. Hell, she even missed stupid Elliot and his peacocking; combative acquaintances proved all the more special when she found herself starting at zero. But she and Silas had been more than that. Friends when she was lacking. Perhaps it’s that recollection—plus half a year of distance—that has her wanting to repair things now. 

She taps lightly on the doorframe, then freezes. 

Silas’s room is all but cleared out. Nothing but a mattress on the floor and two stacked boxes, upon which a lamp sits. Silas lies atop the mattress, laptop propped on his legs, but sits up when he sees her. 

“Josie?”

Unlike Ramona, whose plastic surgery is keeping her frozen in time, Silas looks different. Even over six months. Dark circles under his eyes, face wan. 

Josie’s planned approach swings from cautiously friendly to unexpectedly pitying. She clears her throat. “What, no more Juliet?”

Silas appears off his game as well. He stands from the bed and seems to try his hand at Ramona’s X-ray vision, approaching Josie with an assessing gaze. “I knew you’d come, but not…” He stalls, and then laughs. “Hey.”

She’s not sure what to address first: the last time they had an actual conversation, or that it looks like he’s moving out. Adam had mentioned that he and Ari were going to stay here a few weeks while Silas crashed with Ramona, but this—

“Are you moving in with her?” The words are out before she can think twice. 

His eyebrows push together and she gestures around the room in reply. She has no leg to stand on to explain the sinking feeling in her stomach. Silas and Ramona were always a packaged deal, even when she refused to see it. 

“Oh. No. I mean, for about a week, but not…” The liveliness she always noticed in Silas’s facial expressions is slowly flickering back on. He wears a look of bemused consternation now. “Are you seriously already picking a fight with me?”

Josie bristles. “What? No. Fuck you. I missed you.” Then, if that’s not humiliating enough, she adds, “I’m sorry. About how everything went down. With you and me.”

He moves toward her, and she flinches into the hug. Their first ever, she’s fairly sure. “I missed you, too,” he says. 

When they pull apart, Josie’s cheeks are embarrassingly warm. “I, uh, brought donuts? From Bob’s. Fat chance anyone out there’s gonna eat one, so they’re basically for you.”

“I pegged you as a donut girl.” He sweeps a hand toward the door. “After you.”

The others are still outside, heads bent as the unknown-to-Josie male scrolls on an iPad. Josie plucks out a maple bar, then slides the box toward Silas. They sit on bar stools, back to the sliding glass door. 

“So,” she starts. “You’re moving.”

He’s dithering between a glazed donut and a jelly-filled one, but gives her a quick nod. “It’s time.”

The potential meanings there feel infinite, but Josie hasn’t earned being nosy about his life. All she asks is, “Where to?”

New York City—job opportunity—sister close by—fresh start.

He shares the details somewhat haltingly, like he, too, understands the gap between them is still present. Josie can’t help silently reading into the decision. Silas hasn’t ever been short on job opportunities, as far as she’s aware. Perhaps Ari and Adam’s union has something to do with it? Or Ramona’s fraternizing with Andrew Prosser last year has had a slow burn time, but it caused the friendship to go up in flames after all? 

The only thing she says aloud is, “You’ll be a three-and-a-half hour drive away from me.”

Silas swallows a bite of glazed donut and says, “Perhaps I’ll come visit.”

Then it’s Josie’s turn to recap her latest: arts and culture reporter for an indie paper, plus communications assistant for an art nonprofit—her own place—yes, she actually has friends—the East Coast is fine, but she’ll always be a Californian. 

“Is Pennsylvania long-term, you think?” Silas asks, rinsing his hands off at the sink. 

“No idea,” Josie says honestly. “When I landed yesterday, there was a rush of missing the city and Adam and, like, the life I had here. But I like my new jobs. I like that it’s way cheaper there. And I like that I get to …” She gives a vague wave of her hand. “Like, figure things out on my own. Without preconceived notions from others.”

There’s a yearning-looking lift to Silas’s mouth as he dries his hands. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you just sold me on my move. That all sounds like exactly what I need.”

“Except the cheaper living part. Pretty sure New York City and San Francisco are neck and neck in that department. But, yeah. Anyway. I haven’t even been back for twenty-four hours yet, but I think I’ve already gotten some closure.” Specifically with him, she doesn’t add.

“I’m glad, Josie.” He’s smiling at her, and some of the earlier weight on his shoulders seems to have lessened. “Really.”

Behind them, the sliding door whooshes open. Josie turns to find Ramona stepping inside and pulling the door shut behind her. Through the glass, Adam gives Josie a look while Ari nods and points to something on the iPad. 

He doesn’t have to worry, because Josie learned long ago that whatever Silas might say to her directly, his truest self comes out when Ramona Taylor is present.

Her former roommate moves closer to the kitchen counter, attention on Silas. Josie, though expecting a coordinated attack, still attempts to keep her expression neutral.

But she’s caught on her back foot. Ramona only asks Silas,  “Are you okay?”

“Better, actually,” Silas says. “Believe it or not, Josie managed to move the needle more than listening to sad music did.”

Josie is then fully caught off guard as Ramona Taylor, Wicked Bitch of the West, gives her a quick glance—and then nods like she’s actually thanking Josie.

Josie has no reaction other than to be completely shocked as Ramona says something to Silas about going home and showering before the others are also coming inside.

“Sorry.” Adam joins Josie at the counter. He reaches for a chocolate donut. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Remember: city hall at three, ceremony at three-thirty,” says the guy Josie still doesn’t know the purpose of. He still has the iPad in hand. “I’ve allotted about forty-five minutes for the ceremony and pictures on-site before a car will collect you and take you to Ramona’s. At nine-thirty—”

Oh my god, Josie thinks, pulled from her stupor. 

“—the same car will drive you to the Ritz—”

“Oh my god,” she says out loud. “You’re the new Evelyn, aren’t you?”

The baleful look the man gives her cements the claim—so too does Ramona rolling her eyes. Silas, at least, coughs to cover a laugh.

Dynamics, she’s relieved to know, are restored.

***

The rest of the day is spent, at Adam’s request, primarily in the hotel—surfing the TV channels for movies or shows, reading, ordering room service, even nipping down to the gym to lift weights. The last one is only Adam (Josie would never), and it’s a new piece of him she’s generally flummoxed over until he mentions (face beet red as he does so) that he wants to look good for Ari the following evening “when … um, you know. We…” he says. “Later. Tomorrow night.”

Josie pulls a pillow over her face, so goofy-looking her smile must be. When she sits up, Adam looks half-defensive, half-terrified. 

But Josie keeps things genuine: “You are my favorite person in the whole entire world, and I hope Ari actually deserves your precious, precious soul.”

For dinner, they pick up takeout from a nearby Mexican burrito stand and head for Union Square. The district is bustling—lit up by store fronts and the massive Christmas tree. They find a raised ledge that provides a nice view of the ice skating rink, and begin to eat.

“I fucking hate ice skating,” Josie says through a mouthful of burrito.

Adam, of course, is smiling softly at those circling the rink. “It’s not so bad.”

“You can only say that because you’ve never seen me on skates.” 

It is rather atmospheric, she can admit. Families and friends and couples cutting gracefully across the ice, or hugging the wall as they shuffle their feet. With all the lights, and the cold air, and non-skaters laden with shopping bags, holiday magic is in the air.

“Are you nervous at all?” Josie asks, once she’s halfway through her burrito. 

Adam catches her intention. He swallows his current bite, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and nods. “But I know what to expect. I’ve, um, read up on things. And I trust Ari. So.”

“I do, too.” Josie nods. “When it comes to you, at least.”

She gets another two bites in before Adam says, with apparently even more hesitancy, based on his fidgeting, “I, um, invited my family. To come tomorrow.”

The admission is less of a surprise to Josie than Ramona’s split-second niceties earlier. Still, her stomach sinks. 

“And?” is all she asks, side-eyeing him.

He’s once again watching ice skaters circle the rink, though his attention seems a smidge hazy. He shrugs and meets her eye. “We’ll see.”

It’s a tip of the iceberg answer if there ever was one, and Josie can’t help a small stab of irritation. If she was planning the happiest day of her life, anyone who made her feel shit even for one second would be the last person to find out. “Just don’t hang your hat on anything, ’kay? Your focus tomorrow is yours and Ari’s happiness.”

“I know. But I’m not going to get married and not invite them. I just wanted to—to see.” He looks down at the half burrito wrapped in tinfoil sitting in his lap, and exhales like he’s trying to center himself. When he looks back up, he says, “My expectations are low.”

“No,” Josie counters. “Your expectations are to marry the man of your dreams surrounded by people who love and support you. That’s it. Anything else should be gravy.”

His smile is slow, but it’s genuine. He knocks his burrito against hers. “Hurry up and finish. I want to ice skate.”

She gestures toward the rink. “No one is stopping you from showing off.” His smile grows, and she begins to shake her head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Please, Jo?” He bats his eyelashes. “It’s just that this is our last night before I get married, and I really want to live it up.”

She’s still shaking her head. “You little shit.” But then she gives him an answering smile, one that’s annoyed, proud, and a little bit emotional. “I’ve raised you well.”